Chapter Seventy-Three: Between Brothers, Part Two

November 20th, 2237, 1:54 pm, outside a renowned club in London

A door swung open, and three figures clad in noble uniforms stepped inside.

“Stop right there! Who are you?” A man wielding a pistol aimed at them, seemingly oblivious to their faces.

“Put down your gun! Get out of my sight!” The leader shouted fearlessly, his voice echoing with authority. At that, the armed man immediately recognized his identity. “My apologies, sir. Please, follow me.” He quickly holstered his weapon and respectfully ushered the peculiar trio inside.

“Wow… Brother, you really are imposing. Just one shout and he… surrendered.” Among them, the silver-haired man spoke up.

“You jest, Creville. That’s simply the club’s rule. Only VIPs know the entrance protocols. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—I am the founder, under the guise of a certain gentleman.” The hat-wearing leader followed their guide deeper into the club.

There was no doubt—they were princes of the Misthera Dynasty: Prince Treshey, Prince Creville, and Prince Charles. Yet the attendant had dared point a gun at them… a member of Treshey’s own faction.

“All right, welcome! To my private entertainment suite.” Treshey entered his solitary room, glowing with happiness. “Come on, Creville, didn’t you want the blade from ’76? If you win, it’s yours!” Suddenly, Treshey produced a sharpened sword, identical to Creville’s preferred style.

“Brother, I never thought you knew me so well—it moves me! Let’s do this!” Without hesitation, Creville swung his blade at Treshey, but in that instant, Treshey drew a dagger and blocked the attack.

“What? This blade… You really are ’76!” Creville was startled, but he would never let anyone, even his own brother, challenge him with real weapons.

“Hey, not enough! Charles, you join in too!”

“No, no, I’m not that kind of person. I would never point a sword at my brother!”

“Oh, come on—you were just brandishing the Sword of Succession at me!” Creville retorted, but Charles seemed not to hear.

“But I do use a bow!” Suddenly, an arrow whistled through the gap between Creville’s neck and shoulder, aimed straight at Treshey.

“Useless!” Treshey caught the arrow with his blade, splitting it cleanly in two. Unexpectedly, Charles fired again—this time with Treshey’s own custom crossbow, launching a merciless shot at him.

“Haha, you two… Still too young! Watch this!” Treshey unleashed a secret move—exactly as he had once done while disguised as ’76. “Breaker!” But this time, instead of attacking, Treshey simply threw the sword aside.

“And you!” In the moment the sword left his hand, Treshey dashed forward, snatched Charles’s weapon, and aimed it at him. Creville rushed to help, but…

“That’s enough! Admit defeat!” Treshey drew back the bow, securing it with a single hand and an arrow, while his dagger rested against Creville’s throat…

———Side note———

Ah, the new semester is starting soon. I can’t take it anymore… Should I recharge my winter vacation balance?