CHAPTER 191: CHAPTER 190 - THE FATHER.

Ganiman Von Vaise.

He was the son of Crisaius Von Vaise.

Like any other Vaise, he had aimed to reach the heights no one else had ever reached. He had wanted to make the Vaise name echo louder through the kingdoms.

However, he couldn’t.

Not because he wasn’t strong enough but because he could never do better than his father.

He could only walk in his father’s shadow—he realized that soon enough.

However, that realization didn’t bring good results.

He was a Vaise, and he wanted to improve, so he did everything he could. He went through his father’s training, thinking that it would change things, but it didn’t.

His father had set the expectation too high for him.

By the time Crisaius decided to retire and was called a coward by some, Ganiman had already given up any hopes.

But then, his first child was born.

"If I can’t do it, then I will make my children do it!"

His thought process changed.

He started looking for anything that could make his children stronger.

The fact that he had telepathic powers didn’t help in the least because, by using those powers, he could change his children’s mindset.

However, when Argon was born, Ganiman thought, "Let’s not manipulate this child from the start."

He decided to see how Argon would grow up to be, as he wanted to see if Argon had the potential to surpass his grandfather, Crisaius Von Vaise, without any help.

That was until the time for Patriarch selection came.

At that time, Argon had a wife and a child called Ramiel. He cared a lot about them, so much that he was ready to give up the patriarch’s position to live with them.

That made Ganiman mad.

However, that man was meticulous with his plans, so he didn’t directly do anything to Argon at that time; instead, he used the Royals.

Ganiman told the Royals that he would let one of their family members marry into the Vaise family, even though it was forbidden.

He had promised to marry one of them to Argon once they helped him kill his son.

And so, they did.

Argon broke.

Ganiman’s plan succeeded.

Using that moment of weakness, Ganiman used his powers to change Argon’s mentality.

Crisaius had gone to stop Ganiman, but the man, blinded by the greed of having his name remembered as the father of someone great, ignored the very father like whom he aspired to be.

That was the last day the caring Argon was seen.

The next day, he killed all of his brothers and sisters other than those who submitted to him.

On his father’s instructions, he married women from all influential noble families while also marrying a royal woman disguised as a marquise’s daughter.

Every wife gave birth to one child and was killed so that they could never influence their children. The only one who remained was the royal woman.

However, soon, Ganiman died.

The real Argon, who had always been alive underneath that cold, ruthless, and emotionless personality created by his father, thought that he would be freed.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t.

It seemed like his father had made some permanent alteration in his head, creating a new and more dominant personality.

For a long time, Argon could only sigh on the inside as he saw all of his children, at first trying to get close to him, but his cold and ruthless side pushed them away.

He knew that the only way to break free of this curse-like magic was to grow stronger, and since that goal aligned with his alter ego, Argon decided to stay patient.

After all, the alter ego, who wanted to break free of the Royals’ control, also wanted to grow stronger.

He treated everything happening around him like a dream he would wake up from as the world around him had turned dull; all he saw was ice.

He could see everything, he could feel everything, but he was too powerless to do anything.

He had become a mountain that no wind could sway.

But as if to prove it wrong, a storm named Raven came into his life.

He remembered when he first heard the name Raven.

There was no way he couldn’t remember as it was a moment etched in the memories of every Vaise.

The day Raven was born, he broke a record. He survived the mana baptism for ten minutes—an impossible feat.

He was another child born to a special wife he didn’t remember well. Another soul birthed into the cold hierarchy of the Vaise.

But he was special.

However, the more special you are, the more people hate you.

Argon’s alter ego knew that, but he never moved an inch.

Despite knowing that his son would most likely be assassinated that night, he didn’t move.

The real Argon, unable to do anything had sighed.

Assassins had been sent not by nobles or rebels, but by his only wife alive.

She wanted to eliminate her son’s competition.

The alter Argon, however, hadn’t cared. He had merely said, "The weak can only die. No amount of talent can save them."

A venomous beast, bred in darkness, had been slipped into the nursery the night Raven was born.

By dawn, it was dead. Half-eaten.

The child? He giggled with tiny fangs still showing, eyes glinting with mischievous defiance.

Argon remembered blinking—truly blinking—for the first time in decades when he read that report.

"Ate it?" He muttered back then, behind his desk, lips twitching almost imperceptibly. "He ate it?"

Every report that came after only added to the impossible puzzle that was Raven Von Vaise.

He caused a mass sparring disruption in the Cradle because he modified the dueling rules without permission to make things "more interesting."

He escaped a confinement ward meant for ten-year-old troublemakers by charming the guards, bribing a squirrel, and building a glider from kitchen pans.

Broke a new record every month... and also broke the record for most disciplinary notices.

But even those shallow, often comedic footnotes couldn’t hide the pattern.

Wherever Raven went, chaos followed.

And wherever chaos followed... Raven won.

Despite himself, Argon started waiting for the monthly Cradle report. The alter ego—cold and calculating—tossed the documents aside, uninterested.

But the real Argon, the one buried beneath layers of silence, memorized every word.

Then came the Ashen Expanse Event.

They had opened a controlled zone within one of the deadliest territories known to man.

A public demonstration of the children’s capabilities. A show of strength.

Argon had stood tall away from the crowd, arms folded, the mask of cold indifference tightly affixed.

Things were going fine until something unexpected happened.

’Level five beast in this area?’ Argon had sensed the presence of a beast that shouldn’t be anywhere near the children.

But it was.

He didn’t need to think twice to know who was behind it, but he couldn’t do anything.

As for his alter ego, he merely looked through it.

After all, the main goal of that alter ego was growing powerful and defeating the royals.

He didn’t care about anything else.

Raven, however, hadn’t run away from the beast.

’Level Three? Against a Level Five Corrupt Beast?’

It was suicide.

Everyone knew that. Even Raven knew.

But to save others, he had rushed right into it.

With a crooked grin and maddening confidence, he made the impossible possible.

The fight was ugly.

He was bleeding from the arm. His ribs were fractured. But he still kept coming. He laughed. He mocked the beast. He fought.

He couldn’t kill the beast.

Everyone knew.

He wanted to ask why Raven wasn’t using his other power, the special power even he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t.

Then, he saw the beast’s giant claw moving toward Raven in slow motion.

Argon remembered the sudden heat that surged inside him. The kind he hadn’t felt in years.

His fingers clenched around his sword handle.

’Move,’ he’d begged himself.

But he couldn’t.

His body didn’t answer.

The other self—the shadow, the mask—held him still.

’Love makes you weak,’ it whispered, tightening its grip.

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Raven had survived that day, but Argon was left in shambles.

Then Crisaius returned.

That old lunatic.

With his windblown white hair and unpredictable chaos, he barged back into Argon’s life like a poorly timed lightning bolt.

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But Argon knew him too well.

It was to the point that even his alter ego somewhat respected the old man.

Crisaius, however, had long seen through him. Even though the world only saw the cold, heartless Patriarch... Crisaius knew.

So when the old man announced, "I’m taking Raven as my disciple," both the real Argon and the alter ego felt shaken.

That man didn’t train people easily. He trained monsters. Legends.

So, why Raven?

Because Crisaius saw it too.

Hope.

When Argon finally met Raven, it was supposed to be a formality. It was a meeting where the Patriarch talked to another "promising heir" about how his reckless decision to say a random girl was a Vaise could be harmful.

But Raven—that reckless child—had looked up at him, smiled wide, and said, "Hey, Father."

Just like that.

Like the years of distance and silence didn’t matter. It was like there was never any hatred, or confusion, or blame.

Argon almost lost control of his body right then. The real him, who was caged deep inside, reached out through his eyes. And Raven must’ve seen it—because he didn’t stop smiling.

From that moment, Argon changed his goal.

No longer was power just a way to free himself.

It was now a shield—for that boy.

But life, twisted and cruel, looped in circles.

The Royals came again.

They summoned Raven to the court. The same throne that had taken Ramiel... had now extended its hand to Raven.

Argon had felt something snap inside.

Ramiel—his first son. Slain through royal betrayal.

Then, his wife died from grief the same night.

He had crumbled once before. Now... it was all happening again.

Like Crisaius had said, if he loved anyone again, he would suffer again.

He needed to first break the curse before even thinking about it, but it wasn’t in his control.

So, this time, despite being in pain, he fought his alter ego.

Inside his mind, the palace court’s questions droned on while a silent war erupted behind his eyes.

He clashed with the version of himself that Ganiman had twisted into existence.

Blow for blow. Memory against memory. A sword against the chain.

"You need him to take him away and kill him," his alter ego had snarled. "He’s becoming your weakness."

"No," Argon had answered, eyes wide with long-forgotten clarity. "He’s my strength."

The battle ended in silence.

The room of his mind cracked open, and ice melted for the first time in years.

But he knew it wasn’t over.

The other self wasn’t gone.

It was waiting.

Now, sprinting through the capital’s moonlit streets, the wind slicing past him, Argon felt the weight of all those years crashing into his chest.

The pain. The regret. The helplessness.

He wouldn’t lose Raven, not like he lost Ramiel.

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Not again.

Not to those snakes on the throne.

He moved faster, heart burning, breath steady.

He would take care of his son, but before that, he needed to help his son save his princess lover.

After all, a good father must also be a good father-in-law for his son’s future wives.