Chapter 489: Extreme Paranoia

As Kuzan shifted the topic, Garrett seized the chance to back down gracefully, abandoning his original plan to punish Ronin and Rudar as he had intended.

At this moment, he finally saw clearly that Ronin’s respect for the royal family was merely superficial.

Then again, in the world of the extraordinary, once one's power reached a certain level, the noble hierarchy could no longer bind such individuals.

Take Bellora, the Archmage—she hadn’t acknowledged the crown in years, yet it was Bruno who sent envoys periodically to her Amethyst Earldom to offer greetings.

After a brief discussion, Ronin returned with Rudar to Westwind Hill.

“Milord, Commander—you’re back!”

Oudoro rushed forward. He had been terrified moments ago, fearing he might have to lead his troops against Redpine Keep before the war with the Empire even began.

Now, seeing them return unharmed, his heart at last settled.

“Oudoro, tell the kitchen to prepare a meal. Unlike Carlo, I can’t survive on raw energy alone.”

“Yes, milord!”

Ronin and Rudar stepped into the hall.

“Milord, the Crown Prince seems to hold great resentment toward you,”

Rudar said, his brow furrowed with concern. “I fear he may act against you—or your lands.”

“Perhaps.”

Ronin remained unfazed. “But so long as King Bruno lives, no matter how strained my relationship with Garrett becomes, open war won’t break out.”

Targeting Ronin served no interest for Bruno.

And if the prince truly committed himself to destroying him, he would only be handing opportunities to men like Faelens.

Weakening the Wushan family while enriching those eyeing the throne—Faelens among them—would ultimately be a futile endeavor.

Rudar voiced another worry:

“Garrett is no match for you now, nor does he represent the crown in confronting you. But once he inherits the throne… things may change.”

“That’s a long way off.”

Ronin gestured for Rudar to sit.

“Our king is a Silver Knight, not yet sixty. He’ll likely live another twenty or thirty years. Who knows what the world will look like by then?”

Rudar nodded slowly.

He had witnessed Ronin rise from obscurity to his current stature in less than four years. Another two or three decades? The thought daunted him.

By then, he believed, North Wuland and Moonlight Vale would flourish beyond measure, their combined strength unmatched.

“Milord, when you are away, how should I respond to orders from the Crown Prince?”

Rudar hesitated—he feared causing trouble for Ronin.

“Use your judgment. As long as his commands aren’t aimed at us, follow them normally. And don’t fret too much about offending Garrett. Given his nature, we’ve already lost any chance of his forgiveness.”

“Very well…”

Rudar could only hope that after today’s humiliation, Garrett might temper his arrogance.

Ronin approached the table, smoothing the map laid across it. “After you left, I investigated Watchtower Keep across the border. Not only are they reinforcing their garrison, but the new troops are lavishly equipped—armor, banners, everything speaks of wealth and pride.”

He relayed his findings to Rudar.

“If all I wanted was to seize Watchtower Keep, it wouldn’t be difficult. But now I’m thinking how best to absorb their forces—not just slaughter them.”

He turned to Rudar. “What do you think is the wisest course?”

Rudar fell into deep thought. After a long silence, he spoke:

“As long as Trisia shows no sign of defeat, the chance of their surrender is nearly zero. To crush them, you must first break them on the battlefield.”

He paused, then added, “But since you wish to absorb them, we could signal our intent early—show them your overwhelming strength, apply psychological pressure, make them understand the cost of resistance.”

Ronin nodded. Such a dual approach—even if they refused surrender—would unsettle their morale and erode their will to fight.

“Then starting tomorrow, I’ll have Carlo fly over Watchtower Keep twice daily. After that, we’ll talk.”

Back in Redpine Keep, inside Garrett’s bedroom,

the prince lay gasping, eyes bloodshot with rage.

The pain in his arm throbbed relentlessly, forcing him to relive the day’s events—the image of Ronin’s arrogant, insolent face burning behind his eyelids.

Except for that first encounter in Golden Feather Palace, where he’d held the upper hand, every meeting since—on the shore city, in Moonlight City, at the wedding, and now here in Redpine Keep—had ended in humiliation. Four times, and each time, defeated.

Garrett began to wonder: had Ronin’s initial surrender not been out of fear, but deliberate? A feint?

The thought sent his emotions spiraling, his breath ragged.

For a man of Silver Moon peak knighthood, whose control over his body bordered perfection, such loss of composure revealed a fragile psyche beneath.

“Ronin… dragon… Rudar… Rulans… Melonica… Sophia… McKenn… Elron!”

“The Wushan family has quietly gathered so many high-tier supernaturals, yet Ronin never revealed a word. What is he planning?”

The more Garrett analyzed, the deeper his dread grew for this rising marquis.

“And not only that—he enjoys Bellora the Archmage’s favor, and stands well with Duke Valgis!”

These were known facts, known to the court as well.

Before, Garrett had worried about the alliance between Faelens Duchy, Vila Duchy, and Shriek Island weakening the crown.

But now, compared to those three, the Wushan family unsettled him far more.

Ronin’s ascent was too swift. If left unchecked, in just a few years, Garrett couldn’t fathom how vast his power might become.

“While he’s still Solar-tier, we can deal with him!”

“We still have a chance—to unite and eliminate him before he rises further!”

At this crossroads, Garrett did not choose the broad road, nor even the narrow path. Instead, he chose to walk bare-handed through the thicket of thorns.

“But Father will never allow it!”

Did Bruno harbor no concerns about Ronin?

Of course he did. Yet he knew that moving against Ronin would ignite a brutal civil war.

Compared to that, he preferred to rely on emotional bonds—after all, Ronin was his son-in-law. Surely he wouldn’t openly betray, let alone kill, his own father-in-law?

Moreover, once supernaturals reached great heights, they often grew indifferent to worldly power.

Like Archmage Bellora—who asked only for a domain free from royal oversight, with no desire to expand.

Bruno entertained similar thoughts. Perhaps, if one day the continent were unified under an empire, he could grant Ronin a duchy—or even a kingdom—within its borders. Why not?

“Father’s thinking is naive. He fails to grasp Ronin’s danger—and worse, he’ll stand in my way.”

The more Garrett dwelled on it, the darker his thoughts grew.

Until, at last, the face of his uncle, Faelens, surfaced in his mind.

In that moment, Faelens seemed to transform into a devil, beckoning him forward with open arms. (End of Chapter)