Suddenly, Vonjo reached up and nudged the three-headed frog perched silently on his shoulder.

The strange creature croaked in a low, guttural rhythm and its three mouths yawned open in perfect synchronization.

“Yowwaaaa!!”

From the glimmering abyss of its central throat, a spatial ripple unfolded—like reality itself had been gently pulled back—and out from the distortion, an ornate black-metallic bow with violet engravings emerged, followed by a quiver of sleek, obsidian-tipped arrows.

Vonjo caught them without effort, the bow’s weight fitting into his grasp as if it had always belonged there.

Vance raised a brow at the spectacle. “Well, how convenient,” he muttered sarcastically, his lip curling with the faintest smirk.

“Yes,” Vonjo said plainly, testing the bowstring with a soft tug that hummed like thunder in a distant valley. “This is my summoned beast,” he casually added. Not caring on what he said.

At that, a brief pause fell over the hall—before erupting into laughter from the guards and attendant elites behind Vance.

“BWAHAHAHHA!”

The laughter was loud, disrespectful, and filled with mockery.

The kind of laughter that people use to mask fear or disbelief.

One of the guards even slapped the back of another, howling, “That thing looks like it got run over in the underworld!”

Others would follow:

“IT WAS TOO UGLY AND SMALL!” “BUWAHAHAHA IT’S TOO FUNNY! SO FUNNY!”

“I CAN’T EVEN FEEL A SINGLE BIT OF DANGER FROM IT!”

“HAHAHAHAHA! WHAT A USELESS BEAST!”

Vonjo didn’t flinch.

Instead, he gently brushed a fingertip along the curve of the frog’s central head. “It’s not a common hell beast,” he explained, tone nonchalant. “This is a spatial beast. They’re too strong for most to control. But I’ve decided not to let it fight. I am its master, after all. Since I’m strong enough… why would I need it to lift a finger? I’d rather it rest.”

It was arrogance—pure and unfiltered. But it wasn’t baseless.

However, he sounds like he’s just convincing himself so others will believe him.

The group of guards behind Vance couldn’t help but laugh. Even Vance smirked, clearly amused.

Unseen to everyone else, across Vonjo’s vision streamed a torrent of bullet comments—transparent floating texts from the ‘Viewers Beyond,’ anonymous names accompanied by flashing icons and emotes:

[Sky_Emperor69]: damn, Vonjo too strong, too casual

[Bloodfiend_X]: lmao that frog ugly af, imagine it evolved

[CatgirlCollector]: If that frog gets any uglier I’m logging out

[GodSlayer9]: Vonjo solo’d again. MVP of this world.

[GirlofyourFatherDreams]: Don’t insult froggy san– he’s so cute to be abused! I hate you all!”

Vonjo broke into a faint smile, shaking his head. If the three-headed frog could see these bullet comments, it would probably cry for the first time in its existence.

Fortunately, it remained blissfully unaware, just as silent and serene as always. That alone made Vonjo exhale in relief.

Vance chuckled, tilting his head as if regarding a clown. “You’ve changed, older brother. Seven years and you’ve turned into someone quite entertaining. Even more confident now. Almost… tragically so.”

The men behind Vance burst into laughter once more, chuckling with their master’s rhythm. They hadn’t finished their jeers when Vonjo’s fingers moved.

In a blur, an arrow was knocked and released.

Then another.

And another.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three sharp snaps echoed through the hall like thunderclaps.

The hidden surveillance orbs stationed subtly in each corner of the massive hall burst into sparks and smoke.

The room fell silent—shattered from the sound and precision.

The guards froze, some stiffening while others instinctively touched their belts. Eugene, standing behind Vonjo, widened his eyes, unable to hide his shock.

But Vance remained calm. He saw them all and even sneered inwardly. Aren’t you a little too cautious? Do you think the House cares about your measly little improvements? Then he snorted.

“Are you ready now, older brother?” he asked softly, not at all shaken.

Vonjo tilted his head slightly, then drew another arrow and pointed it casually downward, resting its tip on the marble floor.

“How many attacks am I allowed to send?” he asked in a lazy tone.

Vance turned toward his brother with a theatrical sigh, as though explaining something to a child who’d long forgotten etiquette.

“You’ve reached a Danger level of seventeen in just seven years. That’s… abnormally fast. Especially without the support of the House of Sutterfouse, right? Older brother.” He paced slightly, gesturing with his hands. “Even I—Vanguard of the House, backed by years of training and lineage—only reached the danger level of sixteen after seven years. And yet here you are. Without support, without a formal trainer. Fast. Too fast. Suspiciously fast.”

He stopped pacing and offered a crooked smile. “But you’re still my older brother. It would be impolite for me to treat you like a mere upstart. So, five. I’ll allow you five attacks.”

He raised a single finger. “Not ten. Not twenty. That would be disrespectful, wouldn’t it? As if I didn’t expect anything from you.”

Vonjo laughed, but only in his head. What a farce.

He remembered all too clearly.

Back then, when Vonjo was still acknowledged as the heir, Vance had taken a thousand hits—thousands—from noble-born brats and instructors alike in that elite sparring arena.

He’d stood like a stone wall, his body bloodied, his eyes dead. Never fighting back. Not once. Not because he couldn’t… but because he’d been biding his time.

Every scar, every bruise was to prepare for a moment.

A grand revenge?

No. It was simpler than that—Vance wanted power, attention, recognition. And now, years later, after Vonjo’s fall from grace and Vance’s rise to Vanguard status, the bastard only offered five?

He wants to kill me quickly, Vonjo thought. He’s hiding behind politeness, but his eyes—he wants me gone.

“You overestimate me, brother,” Vonjo said aloud, voice dripping with fake humility.

Then he raised the bow again.

With practiced ease, he began channeling. Black energy crawled across his limbs, crawling into the bowstring, then into the arrow’s shaft. It pulsed—corrupted and ancient, writhing like liquid fire and shadows entwined.

The dining hall felt like it was shifting. The air thickened.

Invisible pressure pressed against everyone’s chests, making the weaker guards sweat bullets.

Plates clattered. Even Eugene felt his knees shake.

Fallen Curse Energy.

Vonjo’s left eye glowed faintly, a barely perceptible ring forming inside it like a cursed sigil.

Vance smiled, wide and eager. Inside his head, he was laughing maniacally. “Ah… So this is what made you arrogant. Is this what devoured my two attendants? This pressure… not bad.” He stepped forward, spreading his arms slightly. “I won’t even move. Go ahead—show me your strongest. I’ll take it. And I’ll enjoy the look you make when it does absolutely nothing.”

Vonjo didn’t care what this psychotic shit brother was thinking. He pulled the bowstring further, the creaking noise nearly drowned by the building’s sonic tremor now humming through the air.

Veins around his hand bulged with dark energy.

The floor beneath his foot cracked—small fissures spreading like spider legs.

And just when the arrow was at its apex, seconds away from being loosed—

“Sir Vonjo! Sir Vance! Wait!” a voice cried.

It was sharp, urgent. One of the attendants at Vance’s side had stepped forward, face pale with sweat, hand raised in interruption.

Everything halted. The bowstring froze at full draw. Vonjo’s eye didn’t stop glowing, but he didn’t let go.

Vance turned his head slightly, annoyed, while Vonjo narrowed his eyes.

The air still buzzed, the tension unbroken.

The frog croaked softly.

Vance would ask, “Why interrupt?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep