Vengeance of The Reborn Heir

The Slap That Shattered Pride

Even Lucien’s expression shifted.

The list was far larger than he had imagined.

“What? You cut the bond and now hesitate to return what came with it?” Ronan’s tone sharpened. “Or does House Sable intend to break its honor?”

The words hit like stones.

Before Benedric could speak, Calista stepped forward, arms crossed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you fool! It was a relationship, not a business contract. No woman would ever return gifts after ten years of engagement.”

Lucien followed immediately, “Calista’s right. No real man would ask for those things back. It’s petty and disgraceful.”

Even imagining returning that much was painful, even if it wasn’t his.

And he still hadn’t received the B-grade weapon Benedric had promised him.

How could he just watch Ronan take everything?

Ronan’s eyes darkened.

“So you really plan to keep what was never yours?”

Benedric’s composure finally snapped.

“That’s enough!” he barked.

“You’ve said your piece. Now leave. You won’t be getting anything back. And consider yourself lucky I’m letting you walk after you humiliated my daughter and me.”

“Be gone, Ronan Crowne. Before I lose my temper!”

Return all that wealth?

Impossible!

He had taken everything as theirs the moment they received it.

He had no intention of giving anything back.

And what could Ronan possibly do, force him?

Surely not, he wouldn’t dare, right?

Benedric truly believed the timid boy who once cowered at Calista’s feet would obey.

But he was dead wrong.

Ronan laughed.

Softly at first, then louder, slicing through the tension like thunder.

The Sable elders frowned, uncomfortable and confused.

What was so funny?

Calista looked startled. Lucien narrowed his eyes.

Benedric slammed his fist on the chair arm.

“Enough! Silence, you insolent brat!”

Ronan simply raised a hand.

In a flash, a chair of shadow-forged energy materialized beside him.

He sat with effortless elegance, crossing one leg over the other, as if he were in his own estate, not a hostile clan’s hall.

Resting his arm casually on the chair, he tilted his head.

“You speak to the heir of House Crowne like a tavern drunk lecturing a merchant’s apprentice,” he said softly.

“So tell me again, Benedric Sable, who gives you the right to speak to me this way?”

The insult hung like smoke.

Gasps echoed through the hall.

Benedric sprang to his feet, rage surging.

“You insolent fool! You forget your place!”

“I don’t,” Ronan replied evenly. “But I wonder if you’ve forgotten yours.”

Benedric’s aura exploded.

Red and gold spiritual energy crackled around him like lightning ready to strike.

“I’ll drag you back to your father myself!” he roared. “Let’s see what he has to say about the son he raised!”

And with that, he vanished.

Then, a shockwave.

The air howled.

The floor cracked.

Benedric’s figure burst forward, Rank 7 might blazing.

The younger members of House Sable couldn’t even track his movement.

The elders braced.

But Ronan?

He didn’t move.

Nor did he blink.

He merely whispered, “Slap.”

From thin air, a ghostly hand appeared, translucent yet radiant with terrifying power.

It descended with divine speed and unrelenting force.

SMACK!

A violent crack echoed through the chamber.

Benedric slammed into the floor with bone-shaking force.

The marble beneath him shattered in a spiderweb of cracks.

Blood splattered across his robes.

A set of teeth clattered across the floor.

A bright red handprint burned across his cheek.

Gasps. Silence. Then utter disbelief.

Ronan remained seated. Unmoved.

And then, above them all, a glowing figure slowly descended, shrouded in golden energy.

A true Rank 8 Gold Master had arrived!

Ancient, overwhelming power radiated from him.

Even the air seemed to bow.

Everyone stared, frozen in awe.

Ronan merely smiled.

In an instant, chaos erupted across the main hall of House Sable.

Calista staggered backward, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Lucien clenched his fists, staring in shock at the towering figure beside Ronan, radiating the aura of a true Rank 8 Gold Master.

A Master of such caliber, appearing here?

How come?!

Panic rippled through the room.

Benedric, still reeling from the blow, groaned and struggled to rise.

His once-imposing form looked pitiful as he struggled to claw his way out of the cracked floor.

Finally, he lifted his head, dread heavy in his eyes as he addressed the elder.

“Who... who are you? Why are you interfering in Sable family matters?”