The Regressed Heir of Ravencrest

Deep within the jagged obsidian subterranean levels of the Crimson Tower, the air tasted of copper and burning ash.

The man in the charcoal-black robes did not flinch, even as an oppressive, suffocating pressure descended upon the chamber like the weight of a falling mountain. He knew with absolute certainty that if he let so much as a tremor slip through his posture, a single passing thought from the entity before him would reduce his body to a bloody mist on the floor.

Even among the highest demon nobility, the being he had summoned was infamous for unbridled cruelty—a terror who slaughtered his own contractors over the slightest inconvenience. Yet, he had dared to draw the forbidden circle.

"Heh... So it’s the Abyssal Pact, is it? To think you rats would crawl out of your holes after losing so pathetically in the last Great War against the Empire..."

A low, grating chuckle echoed off the damp stone walls.

Kekekeke...

Though the entity was laughing, the dark-robed man could feel the dense, suffocating malice directed at his organization for their historic failure. His fingers twitched for a microsecond—a tiny, involuntary lapse in control.

Instantly, the pressure multiplied tenfold.

Sweat burst from his forehead as a heavy thud resonated through his chest. He knew, with sudden terror, that he had made a fatal error. Blood splattered violently into the air as both of his arms tore free from his shoulders, splashing onto the cold stone. Rather than pooling, the crimson fluid began to boil and twist mid-air, forming burning demonic runes that coalesced into jagged words:

WHY DID YOU SUMMON ME?

The man could no longer feel his hands. Thin, agonizing tendrils of dark demonic energy burrowed into his open wounds, shaping into microscopic needles that stabbed directly into his nerve clusters and vital organs. His eyes lost focus as his blood drained at a terrifying rate. It was a pain unlike anything he had ever known, yet he did not dare to groan aloud.

With what little strength remained, he raised his head and slammed his forehead hard against the blood-stained floor.

"My Lord..." he gasped out, his voice raspy and broken. "I—I seek vengeance against House Ravencrest! Please... grant me strength!"

...

———

In the Command Chamber

A tiny wrinkle formed on Luna’s forehead at his casual remark. For a fraction of a second, an unfamiliar surge of irritation flared within her, a sudden urge to lash out that was completely foreign to her usually composed demeanor. Struggling to make sense of the sudden impulse, she quietly suppressed it.

Sensing that Luna was somewhat irritated, Ethan realized he might have pushed his teasing a little too far. Still, looking at her subtle pout, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet fondness for it. In his previous life, apart from a handful of moments, she had rarely spoken much with others at all, and rarer still had she shown any real emotion—most of what little she did show, she’d shown to him. They’d always shared an unspoken understanding, perhaps born from the losses they’d each carried and the heavy responsibilities neither had ever been allowed to set down. Looking at his closest friend now, alive and whole in front of him, he couldn’t help but smile.

"Now, Countess," Ethan continued, his tone shifting back to something more formal as he drew the room’s focus back to business. "Apart from the trade, there is one more matter I’d like to raise. House Ravencrest will be sending a formal alliance proposal to House Bluemoon soon."

Every eye in the room turned back toward him.

"But it’s entirely your choice whether to accept it," he continued calmly. "Whatever I’ve done for House Bluemoon so far was never done for House Ravencrest’s benefit. I will not force you, nor do I insist that you pledge your allegiance to my house." He paused, looking at her steadily. "If you feel you can’t manage this trade alone, the Order’s support is available to you as well, regardless of what you decide."

The moment the words left his mouth, every gaze in the chamber settled on him. Sir Peter finally understood, in full, why Ethan had asked all of them to gather here together.

So this is what he was building toward, Peter thought. He’d had more than a few questions about why the Successor was going to such extreme lengths for House Bluemoon, based on what little Luna and this meeting had revealed—but he chose not to voice them. A faint, deeply respectful smile touched the corner of his lips instead.

Meanwhile, Sir Ben and Commander Teresa sat in stunned silence. They could feel the certainty vibrating through Ethan’s words. There was not a single trace of deceit or hidden calculation in his eyes—only total, transparent sincerity.

Luna stared at Ethan, her mind racing backward through time.

She thought of her father, and every alliance he had turned away, even then House Ravencrest had offered their help sincerely, time and again. They had never once done anything to harm House Bluemoon. If anything, they had quietly supported her territory’s outlying villages during hard seasons, sending grain and resources when it was needed most—unlike Duke Albright, who had moved to destabilize their trade routes the instant his own proposal was refused.

Her mind slid further back, to the hopeless weeks just before all of this began—to how close she’d come to losing everything, her people, her soldiers, all of it, simply trying to honor her father’s insistence on neutrality.

Had Ethan not arrived at the eleventh hour, unmasking the internal traitors, reinforcing her soldiers, orchestrating an impossible offense, and hurling himself into the jaws of death to save her family, fighting until he was critically injured, House Bluemoon would have ceased to exist. She remembered the suffocating pressure that had descended upon the battlefield at the end—a power so immense that Blackstone Ravine would have become their mass grave had the Mage Saint not arrived to claim Ethan.

For one unbearable moment, she let herself imagine what would have happened otherwise.

She closed her eyes. All she could see was House Bluemoon’s death creeping in at the edges, inevitable, unstoppable—and she wasn’t even certain she would have survived to see it, let alone sit here now, discussing a trade that stood to transform her house entirely, hearing ancient secrets about Ethan’s legacy related to the Mercenary King. Secrets that, if leaked to the broader Empire, would drive countless evil factions to go to any length to hunt him down and claim it... secrets he had chosen to share without a moment’s hesitation, trusting her with all of it without needing to be asked.

Slowly, she opened her eyes again.

She looked at Ethan for a long moment. Their eyes met, and this time she didn’t look away. That same unnamed feeling tugged quietly at her chest—the same complete, instinctive trust she’d felt from nearly the moment she’d met him. She still couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t explain the vision either, the one that had shaken her just a few moments ago. But she knew, with a certainty that needed no explanation, that something about him was different from anyone she had ever known.

As Luna continued looking at him, the answer that had been slowly forming within her heart finally became impossible to ignore. Her trust was not directed toward House Ravencrest or the political future the alliance might bring. It was directed toward Ethan himself—the person who had entered her life without warning and, in the span of only a few days, changed the fate of everything she had been trying to protect.

For reasons she could not yet understand, Luna felt that even if the road ahead of him led into dangers she could not see, she would not hesitate to walk beside him.

Luna’s fingers slowly tightened around the document resting in her hands. She looked down at Ethan’s name written beside that of House Bluemoon, then raised her eyes toward him once more. A quiet sense of certainty settled within her heart, gradually silencing every remaining doubt.

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

Sir Ben and Teresa exchanged a brief glance. Neither attempted to stop her. Whatever decision their Countess made at this moment, they had already decided they would stand behind her.

Luna drove the base of her spear into the stone floor with a sharp, echoing clang and dropped to one knee.

"I swear my eternal loyalty to Ethan Ravencrest."

The instant the words left her, Sir Ben and Teresa knelt as well, placing their hands over their hearts.

"House Bluemoon pledges its loyalty to Ethan Ravencrest—the future Lord of House Ravencrest!"

It happened within the span of a few seconds—fast enough that Ethan sat there, genuinely caught off guard.

For perhaps the first time since entering the command chamber, Ethan had absolutely no prepared response. He hadn’t imagined, even for a moment, that Luna would offer her loyalty so completely, having known him for only a handful of days in this life. If anything, he’d expected her to remain cautious and wary of his actions for a long while yet.

Ethan didn’t know about the strange vision she had seen, nor did he understand the quiet instinct that had guided her decision. For now, all he could do was stare at his closest friend from another lifetime, wondering what had changed between them.