Vengeance of The Reborn Heir

The First Ripple of Fate

“Look at you, Crowne! Trying to claw back a gift you flaunted in public. Have you no shame?”

“My question is simple. Will you return them, or not?” Ronan asked Calista, ignoring Lucien completely.

Calista’s lips tightened. She said nothing.

The onlookers erupted with sharper whispers.

“She said she didn’t want him, didn’t want his family… but still clutching their gifts?”

“Forced him to take an oath and now cries foul when asked for the dowry back?”

“What a farce. And that Cross guy… he’s just here to snatch the leftovers.”

Color flushed Calista’s porcelain cheeks. Her hands trembled. Then, she ripped the violet-gold bracelet from her wrist, snatched the dagger box from her arm, and hurled both toward Ronan.

“Fine!” she spat. “Take them! I never wanted your pathetic gifts anyway!”

Lucien reached out to stop her, but too late.

Ronan caught both items in one motion, his stance firm, expression unshaken. His voice was cool, composed.

“Much appreciated. Now, feel free to leave.”

“And tell your father to prepare the documents. Every line. Every clause. I’ll come to House Sable at nine sharp tomorrow. Not a minute late.”

With a sharp huff, she grabbed Lucien’s arm and stormed away.

Lucien glanced back at the box in Ronan’s hand, his expression briefly strained. Calista noticed and whispered tightly, “Father will get you another weapon. One just as good.”

But her voice lacked conviction.

Behind them, murmurs rolled like waves through the plaza.

“So that dagger was meant for him all along?”

“She was going to give her ex-fiancé’s gift to her new man?”

“They really thought Ronan Crowne was a portable gold mine, huh?”

Ronan stood silent as the crowd’s scorn followed the couple into the distance.

Then, Ronan felt something. Like a spark in his soul. Then a whisper.

[Branch Deviation Detected.]

[First Reward Granted.]

He had done it, taken his first step down a path different from the one that led to ruin.

And the world... was watching.

Ronan understood it clearly now, before he had returned to the past, things had unfolded very differently. In his previous life, he had never reclaimed the violet-gold bracelet or the B-rank extraordinary energy weapon. As a result, both items had ultimately ended up in the hands of the so-called Chosen One, Lucien Cross.

With that weapon, coveted even by Rank 7 Grandmasters, Lucien had dazzled the instructors during the final evaluations at the Royal Martial Academy. He leapt from being a mid-tier candidate to claiming the number one rank. That extraordinary performance caught the eye of a Rank 8 Golden Master, who promptly accepted him as a personal disciple.

But now? Everything had changed.

This time, Ronan had seized back what was his.

By reclaiming both the bracelet and the B-rank weapon, he had effectively stripped Lucien of the edge that had once catapulted him into the spotlight. Without that weapon, Lucien wouldn’t stand out nearly as much. The sequence of events had been disrupted. A single altered decision, one moment of resolve, had shifted the course of destiny for both of them.

And for that, the heavens had granted him a reward.

Before Ronan could dwell further on the implications, a cold sensation pulsed from the tattoo of the Crowne sigil etched into his chest.

Instantly, he saw it.

The dimensional vault unfolded within his perception, and inside, three radiant items floated in suspension, awaiting his claim.

The first was a shimmering sigil—an Upgrade Token of Reality-Level Rank.

The second, a golden scroll inscribed with flowing script—the Secret Manual of Golden Transformation.

And the third… one hundred pounds of pure, condensed Tier-9 Energy Essence. Each ounce gleamed with unfathomable power, denser and richer than anything he had ever cultivated with before.

Ronan’s breath caught.

The Secret Manual of Golden Transformation—he had only ever heard of techniques like this in ancient legends. A cultivation art likely tailored for those nearing the peak of Rank 8. And since it had been granted directly by the Will of the World, its quality was guaranteed to be beyond elite—possibly even divine.

As for the Tier-9 Energy Essence, Ronan’s previous self had only glimpsed it from afar. It was the pinnacle of cultivation resources, treasured by Golden Masters on the verge of breakthroughs. Even the Crowne Clan, with its vast vaults and ancient lineage, had possessed no more than a dozen pounds at any given time.

Now, he had one hundred.

The realization hit him like a tidal wave—this was no mere second chance.

It was ascension.

And he had only just begun.