Chapter 116: Anticipation is the Essence of a Gift (5)

In the dining room of the main mansion, five people were sitting at one of the tables. At the head of the table sat Besil, the patriarch. To his left was Panir and to his right was Reganon. Next to Reganon, Myle sat, his posture firm and stiff.

“...”

Everyone stared blankly into the air with expressionless faces. However, Panir slowly began to frown.

He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time, then his shoulders flinched. He glanced sideways at Besil, irritated.

Knock, knock.

A soft knock at the door turned everyone’s glances.

From outside, Anis spoke, “This is Anis. Taragon and Keter are with me. May we enter?”

“Come in.”

At Besil’s permission, the door opened.

Though they had arrived in such haste that they had no time to change into formal wear, they had clearly taken the effort to tidy their appearances as best as they could.

“Follow my lead, Keter.”

Anis stepped forward three paces. With his left hand straightened and his right hand clenched into a fist, he pressed it against his abdomen. Then, he bowed deeply.

“My apologies for being late, Lord Besil, Lord Panir, Lord Reganon, and Myle. Thank you for waiting.”

First, he bowed to the patriarch. Then, he raised his head and bowed to the elders and then Myle. Anis had bowed six times in total, expressing both apology and gratitude.

As Anis sat down beside Panir, he was careful to make no sound as he lowered himself onto the chair. Even after sitting, his posture remained perfectly rigid.

“Haaah...”

Anis finally exhaled.

Seeing this, Taragon licked his dry lips and imitated him exactly.

Soon after, he took a seat beside Reganon.

Now, it was Keter’s turn. Panir, in particular, was smirking.

Keter began walking towards them. Even after a few steps, he continued forward without stopping. Everyone’s gaze followed his movements. They all saw Keter, with a thump, noisily sit at the empty seat next to Anis.

Creak!

He even pulled the chair loudly.

“...”

Reganon stifled a laugh, while Panir became flushed in anger.

Anis urgently scolded, “Keter! What are you doing?! Apologize and express your gratitude to the elders who have been waiting for us!”

“Huh? Am I losing my mind, or did anyone here know there was going to be a family meeting today at this hour?”

“I wasn’t informed beforehand either. But the patriarch and the elders, who are our superiors, have waited for us. It is only proper to express our apologies and gratitude. That is noble etiquette and the tradition of Sefira.”

Anis’ reasoning was logical: if Keter was a part of Sefira, then he had to abide by Sefira’s rules. Panir, especially, looked pleased.

But Keter scoffed.

“I came as soon as I was summoned, so what do I have to apologize for? The ones with too much free time arrived early and waited. Don’t give me that load of crap.”

A response utterly unbefitting a noble, yet perfectly befitting Keter.

At that moment, Panir, livid, slammed the table and stood up.

“You insolent brat! If you refuse to abide by etiquette and tradition, you will never be allowed to use the name Sefira!”

“Is that your opinion, Grandpa, or is that the will of the patriarch?”

“I told you not to address me so disrespectfully.”

“Answer my question. Keter of Sefira is extremely tired right now, so Keter of Liqueur is about to make an appearance.”

“What?! Liqueur?! What nonsense...”

Panir turned to Besil, who could not hide his discomfort. The fact that Keter was born and raised in Liqueur was a secret he had planned to keep hidden for as long as possible. There was no reason to reveal it.

But Keter had announced it himself without hesitation. Besil expected Keter to speak rudely to Panir, as he had already demonstrated that he would neither submit to authority nor conform to rules.

Besil cleared his throat and spoke, “It is true. Keter was brought from Liqueur. I apologize for keeping it a secret, but I believed it was the best course of action.”

Since this was a private family meeting, not an official council, Besil tried to keep the atmosphere as relaxed as possible.

Under normal circumstances, Panir would have flown into a rage. But after recent events, he held his temper in check.

“That, I can understand. But what I cannot understand is Keter’s utter arrogance. We agreed that he would be disciplined after the last assembly, did we not? You did not disregard my words again, did you?”

This time, it was Keter who answered.

“Now, this is starting to piss me off. I only stated the facts, but Grandpa, you just wanted an excuse to nitpick, didn’t you? The patriarch is here, and so is Lord Reganon. Or maybe you just wanted to show off in front of your grandnephews?”

“...”

Panir glared at Keter, as if daring him to say more. And Keter, naturally, did not disappoint.

“The patriarch is silent. Elder Reganon is silent. So why are you the only one unable to read the room, Grandpa Panir? Why are you the only one making a scene? It seems like you alone don’t understand my current role in Sefira... And I don’t want to explain it to you myself... So let’s settle it like this.”

Keter stood up.

“Let’s disregard the ranks and settle this properly.”

Three people froze: Myle. Anis. Taragon. Meanwhile, Reganon chuckled silently. Besil shot Reganon a look before speaking.

“Keter. No matter the circumstances, you should not speak so rudely to your granduncle. And Uncle, must you treat a child raised in Liqueur with such strictness, as if he were an outsider? I would tell you both to simply apologize and be done with it, but...”

Besil exhaled.

Keter and Panir had something in common—neither could be persuaded with words. Since reasoning would not work with either of them, Besil knew there was only one way to resolve this.

“A family feud because of personal emotions is an embarrassment. However, as both are not yielding, following Sefira’s tradition, let’s settle this personal dispute through a duel.”

“The family tradition? A duel?”

Keter’s interest was piqued. Panir scoffed.

“You want me to duel this brat?”

“What exactly is this duel? Tell me, too.”

Besil answered with a solemn face, “Arm wrestling.”

“...”

“It is the best way to test both willpower and strength while minimizing the risk of injury."

“Why arm wrestling, though? That's so random.”

“Is it not the arms that draw and fire the bow? For an archer, the left arm is the heart, and the right arm is the soul. Arm wrestling is a sacred ritual—a duel that puts an archer's very essence on the line. In Sefira, all personal disputes are settled through arm wrestling.”

Both elders nodded in agreement, as did Taragon, Anis, and Myle. Even Keter, usually so skeptical, found himself nodding.

“Now that you put it that way, it makes sense.”

“Keter. If you lose this match, you must dedicate yourself to learning and practicing etiquette and discipline from now on. The same applies to you, Uncle. You must respect and understand the circumstances in which Keter was raised. Do either of you object?”

Family tradition aside, Keter saw arm wrestling as just another type of battle, and he never turned down a challenge.

Keter rolled up his sleeves, his expression brimming with enthusiasm.

“I'll say this in advance—I won’t go easy on you.”

“You arrogant brat. At your age, I was in the middle of a battlefield.”

Sensing the intense heat between them, Besil turned to Taragon.

“Move that vase over there and bring the side table.”

“Yes.”

Taragon brought the table, and Keter and Panir took their positions facing each other.

“I will serve as the main referee, with the patriarch as the second, and Myle, Anis, and Taragon as assistant referees.”

Following the family's tradition, Reganon volunteered as the main referee, but truthfully, he simply wanted a closer look.

He proceeded with the dueling rite.

“Before we begin, Keter and Elder Panir, you must both swear that you will accept the outcome with humility and honor your pledge.”

“I swear upon my heart.”

Keter was the first to place his arm on the table.

“I swear upon my soul.”

Not to be outdone, Panir followed suit.

“Since both of you have sworn, hold hands.”

Reganon placed their hands together.

When Panir touched Keter’s hands, his eyes narrowed.

How can a palm this rough even exist? And this hardness... What kind of training does it take to develop hands like these at his age?

Panir knew Keter was strong—he knew he possessed skills far beyond his years. But he had dismissed it as youthful arrogance. After all, he had never once seen Keter formally train at Sefira.

Visible muscles aren’t everything. Even without applying full strength, this pressure is unreal. His arrogance isn’t just bravado—but to think he can beat me in arm wrestling...

Panir rolled up his sleeves, revealing an arm thicker than Keter’s head. Though over seventy years old, he had reached the rank of Master in his thirties, and his body had yet to decline. Even with his responsibilities, he maintained his training. Plus, he was naturally gifted with immense strength; at the age of twenty, he had beaten four horses in a tug-of-war with sheer muscle alone.

I’ll crush that smug smile of yours, Keter.

Reganon glanced between the two.

He knew about Panir’s sheer physical strength. But he could also tell Keter’s confidence was not baseless. Even Reganon couldn't predict who would win.

“Ready, begin.”

Crack!! Crumble...

As soon as they started, the table shattered on impact, leaving nothing but its base intact. The sheer force of their clash was too much for it to endure. As such, Keter and Panir’s hands trembled in midair.

“Oh ho ho!” Reganon marveled.

Both people leaned into the match, but neither budged an inch. They were locked in an unrelenting battle of force. At a glance, they seemed frozen in time. However, those who watched closely could see their arms trembling ever so slightly, meaning that their strengths were similar.

Then...

Crack!!

A grotesque sound came from Panir’s arm. His muscles swelled, his clothes ripping apart at the seams.

Those born with overwhelming power could temporarily amplify his muscle strength several times their regular strength. It wasn’t quite a special ability, but it was an overwhelming advantage nonetheless.

Screech!

The balance shifted, and Keter began to be pushed back. But rather than gritting his teeth, he grinned. His retreat slowed, then he began to overpower Panir—Keter had unleashed Heavenly Strength.

Rumble!

The ground began to shake, as the sheer force of their muscles rippled through the earth.

Keter was pushing Panir back, but stopped at the very center. Their arms trembled, veins bulging.

Crack!

The floor began to split. At that moment, Besil stepped in and forced them apart.

Keter spoke, “Damn. If you'd given me just a little longer, I would’ve won. Lucky you, Grandpa.”

“You're one to talk! If he had waited one second longer, you would have been buried in the floor!”

Both men turned to Besil.

“Since Father intervened as referee, that means the match was already decided. Who won?”

“Ha! Do you even have to ask? It’s obvious I won! Besil stopped it just to spare you the humiliation!”

Each claimed victory, but Besil shook his head.

“It was a draw.”

Panir was not one to accept a draw.

“A draw?! Elder Reganon, you were closest! You must have seen that I had the upper hand! Myle, Anis, Taragon: who was winning from your point of view?”

Reganon, who wasn’t feeling pressured, first said, “You were both similar. Like the referee said, I think it was a draw.”

Panir then glanced at his grandnephews.

Myle answered first, “I apologize, but... I saw no clear winner.”

Anis and Taragon echoed the same. It wasn’t a lie—neither side had been at a clear advantage.

Had Besil not intervened, a winner would have been decided, but he had cut the match at the exact middle.

Besil continued.

“There will be no rematch. This gathering was not called for a test of strength. Since it was a draw, you will both yield to each other. Keter, etiquette is not about submission to strength or age; it is about respect. Just as I respect your beliefs, you must respect our traditions.

“Uncle, Keter is still young. He grew up in Liqueur, a lawless city where survival is everything—a place where everything is permitted. If you try to force him into a mold, he will only push back harder. Please, do not stifle him.”

It was both an appeal as a father and a request as the patriarch. At that, the tension in the room dissipated.

Keter scratched the back of his head.

"Alright, fine. I guess I should’ve at least greeted you all first. I apologize.”

Keter did live a free life, but he didn’t ignore the rules of the world. He knew that the world was not meant to be lived alone.

Tsk. I guess I’ll have to stop my no-sleep training. I’m getting too irritable.

If he had been well-rested, he would’ve greeted them properly—perhaps even joked about making them wait. But after forty days of no sleep, his mind was fraying instead of his strength. Keter was not the type to get angry at trivial matters.

Anis and Taragon were surprised at how Keter acknowledged his wrongdoings. They had expected him to scoff and not apologize.

So he actually does know how to yield and apologize...

Keter was right most of the time, but they thought he was sometimes being too stubborn. Seeing this made them see Keter differently.

Panir, too, extended his hand first. It was not in hostility but acceptance.

“You have the guts and strength to back it up. I apologize for thinking you were nothing but a lucky cheater.”

Keter took his hand, and Panir shook it firmly.

“Next time, we’ll settle this for real.”

“I won’t hold back next time, Grandpa.”

“Hah! Hahahaha!”

“Hahaha!”

A cracking sound echoed from their grip. Besil waved them down.

“Enough. As the patriarch, I order you both to sit.”

Reluctantly, they let go and took their seats.

“Ahem. Now, let’s discuss the reason I called this meeting. I have something important to tell Anis and Taragon.”

Besil had finally gotten to the main reason he had gathered the family for. The atmosphere, which was tense and solemn, had now become warm and calm.

Anis and Taragon assumed that it wouldn’t be anything too serious. If it was, Besil wouldn’t have called a family meeting; he would have just called the two of them to his office. As such, they thought Besil was going to praise them. Their training with Keter was public, and it was obvious they had grown stronger.

Anticipating praise, Taragon tried his best to calm himself. Anis was also extremely happy, but did not show it.

Then, Besil began.

“You will withdraw from the Sword of the South Tournament.”