The mention of the name "Caron Leston" made Bessic's face twist with displeasure. It was a name he knew well. The name belonged to the youngest grandson of the renowned Grand Duke Halo, who had garnered fame throughout the Orias Empire.0

"And what's the reason for revealing your name?" Bessic asked, his voice low and grating as he tightened his grip on his battle-ax, grinding his teeth in frustration.0

He thought of Caron as a brat who couldn't be older than twenty—a greenhorn from a ducal family. Yet here he was, smirking as if he found everything amusing, standing right in front of him. The sheer arrogance in that expression stirred a deep irritation in Bessic's chest.0

"Did you think I'd tremble in fear at the name of your family?" Bessic asked.0

He detested the innate arrogance of nobles and their damned sense of entitlement. Even the Southern Kingdom's nobles often wore that same condescending look when first encountering him.0

"You're just a cocky brat," he spat.0

Still, even those so-called high-and-mighty nobles would beg for their lives with an ax pressed to their throats. Their lofty airs crumbling, giving way to tears and pleading—it was a sight Bessic relished, one of his favorite amusements.0

"I wonder what kind of face you'll make," he sneered, licking his lips in a grotesque smi...0