The Majestic Heir

Chapter 1 - A Call After Ten Years

At a waterfall pool cascading down from the peak of Kilhill village’s mountain, a man was immersing himself in the icy water. His entire body, except for his head, was submerged.

At first glance, there was nothing unusual about him. But if one looked closer through the clear surface of the water, they would see something peculiar—his body was floating in a seated position, legs crossed beneath him.

"This feels so much better."

Opening his eyes, Marc Belmont let out a deep breath. Not only did his body feel tens of times stronger, but his mind also seemed to be brimming with various kinds of knowledge.

A week ago, he had accidentally swallowed a jade-green stone the size of a corn kernel, which sent his body into what felt like an inferno. Throughout the week, he never once emerged from the waterfall pool.

But today, something strange happened—an overwhelming power surged through every part of his body. At the same time, he felt as if his memories had returned.

Although he was physically and mentally fine, Marc had suffered from a serious condition since childhood. Apart from basic general knowledge and daily conversations, his brain simply could not retain any new information.

No matter how often he saw or heard something, it would only stay in his mind for a few minutes before vanishing.

Marc stepped out of the pool, his clothes still dripping wet. A moment later, they dried completely as if he had never taken them into the water.

"Are you Marc?"

A sudden voice made him turn.

A middle-aged man in a black suit and tie stood a short distance away. A small name tag pinned to his chest read Hendrix Gibson.

Behind him stood two younger men dressed in identical attire, standing at attention.

Marc narrowed his eyes. "Yes, that's me."

"You need to come with us to Cammont immediately." Hendrix extended a letter toward him.

Before Marc could take it, Hendrix pulled his hand back. "I forgot—you can't read. So let me convey its contents to you instead."

The two men behind him snickered. They knew their boss was mocking the young man.

Almost everyone in the city was aware of Marc's strange condition. Coupled with the fact that he had been raised by one of Wesley’s sons, they found it hard to resist making fun of him.

"Patriarch Wesley wants to meet you. But before that, you must swear that no matter what happens, you won’t lay your filthy hands on him."

Patriarch Wesley was the head of the Richmond family—one of the three most powerful families in Cammont. To prevent himself from being “infected” by Marc’s condition, someone had drafted this written declaration.

"Tell them I’m not interested."

Casually, Marc walked past them, heading toward the bamboo house nearby.

"How arrogant!" One of the young men behind Hendrix shouted. "Is that what you want to say to the man who raised you?"

Marc was the foster son of Noah, Wesley’s youngest son. After Noah passed away, Marc was sent here to be mentored by Helma, one of the most respected master healers in the entire Lanshire kingdom.

"Don't be ungrateful. If not for the Patriarch's will, no one in the Richmond family would even acknowledge you." Another man scoffed.

"Don’t get ahead of yourself, Marc. The Patriarch only wants to see you. After that, I’ll personally enjoy kicking your ass out of the manor." Hendrix’s tone turned cold.

As if he hadn’t heard a word they said, Marc kept walking without pause.

"Disrespectful brat! You’re forcing us to get rough? Fine by me!"

One of the bodyguards strode toward Marc, cracking his knuckles. His eyes gleamed with anger.

He had been given direct orders—take Marc back by any means necessary.

Seizing Marc’s shoulders, he attempted to slam him to the ground.

But a second later, his expression twisted in confusion.

He had exerted all his strength, yet this frail young man did not budge an inch.

"Take your filthy hands off me."

Marc flicked his shoulder lightly.

Yet, the bodyguard was hurled more than ten meters backward—as if an invisible force had violently shoved him away.

"What just happened?" The second bodyguard’s eyes narrowed in shock.

He had no idea what had just occurred, but he assumed it must have been some kind of trick.

"Trying to use cheap tricks on us? Let’s see if that works again!"

He lunged at Marc with remarkable speed.

Just before reaching him, he leaped into the air, fists clenched—ready to strike.

However, before he could throw a punch, his body was also sent flying backward—crashing hard onto the ground.

Hendrix’s eyes widened in disbelief. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

His two subordinates were internationally certified professional bodyguards. One of them alone could easily take on five muscular men at once.

Dragging a sickly young man like Marc back to Cammont should have been an effortless task.

But what he had just witnessed… was beyond comprehension.

Marc was no longer the same idiotic boy from ten years ago.

Not only had he grown exceptionally strong, but there was also a sharpness in his eyes and a fearlessness in his demeanor.

"Could this be… the work of Master Tilcott?"

If anyone could perform miracles like this, it would have to be the master healer herself.

Hendrix was now beginning to understand why his young master had sent Marc here in the first place.

As Marc reached the front yard of his bamboo house, Hendrix swiftly regained his composure.

"I must complete my mission."

Unlike his subordinates, he lacked combat skills. Using force against Marc would only yield the same humiliating results.

"Mr. Belmont, please forgive me and my men."

Hendrix bowed deeply—his previous arrogance had vanished without a trace.

In the blink of an eye, Marc had become someone he deeply respected.

"We have acted rudely toward you. But please, I beg you to come with us. I’ll be in serious trouble if I return empty-handed."

Marc smirked.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to Cammont—he simply wanted to teach these people a lesson so they wouldn’t behave so arrogantly toward him again.

At the same time, a thought suddenly surfaced in his mind.

"Is this what Helma wanted?"

For the past three nights, he had dreamt of the master telling him to return to the city.

"Fine, I’ll go with you. But first, let me see that letter."

"Of course, sir."

Hendrix couldn’t hide his relief as he handed over the letter with both hands.

Marc glanced at the document for a moment, then picked up a pen. Moments later, he scribbled something on it.

"All done. We can leave now."

He handed the letter back to Hendrix.

But when Hendrix read the bottom of the document, shock filled his entire face.

"No obligation to obey the Richmond family."