Dragon's Awakening: The Duke's Son Is Changing The Plot-Chapter 39 - 38 - Argon and Crisaius.

The Ashen Expanse was as desolate as ever.

The cracked land was filled with corrupted beasts, knowing nothing but savagery.

Anyone who stayed here would either go mad or become a warrior no one would want to face—that was the type of land it was.

Only the strong lived while the weak died.

It was true even for the beasts in this land.

A particular incident happening within this desolate area was proof of it.

There lay a mother corrupted beast who had just birthed her child, growling in pain but licking her child clean.

Even for a beast, they had maternal feelings—at least the strong ones did.

This mother beast was also strong: a stage six, speed-type, corrupt.

But right now, after birthing her child, she was at her weakest state. Even breathing was straining.

This area, however, wasn’t forgiving, and neither were the beasts that belonged here.

A large, strength-type stage five corrupt came forward, growling as it stared at her weakened state.

It had come here to kill and devour her.

The mother and the child growled at the beast, but both of them were too weak to resist.

They knew they would die.

They remained oblivious to the haunting red eyes observing them from a distance.

’That’s the fate of the weak,’ muttered the man sitting upon a jagged black boulder, high above a dying canyon and far from the perception of those beasts.

It was Argon Von Vaise.

His black hair danced with the dead wind that blew in the desolate, but his red eyes remained as cold as blood-stained steel.

He had observed the speed-type corrupt for a while, and after seeing how she had conquered the area with her power, he had decided to finish her off soon, only to see this scene.

The mother and child were going to die, but he didn’t blink.

He barely breathed as the sword beside him—his black Greatsword—rested gently, but even in stillness, it radiated a suffocating weight.

But then, his brows twitched.

A frown followed.

A moment later, a voice carried itself on the wind, light, amused, and inappropriate for the place.

"You really need to loosen up, boy. The expanse is bleak enough without your funeral-face added to the decor."

Another figure materialized out of thin air and sat down on the same boulder, with his back to Argon, legs lazily dangling off the other side.

Crisaius Von Vaise.

The lunatic ancestor.

"Crisaius," Argon said, his voice as flat and toneless as the rock beneath them.

"That’s Master Crisaius to you," the old man corrected, though his voice was anything but scolding. It was smug.

Argon didn’t respond to that. Instead, he murmured, "If I don’t stay alert here, I die."

Crisaius yawned. "You always say that. And yet, you’re still alive. Clearly, this place loves you."

The old man stretched his back, bones cracking in exaggerated rhythm. "You know, they say stress shortens your lifespan. Not that you’d care. You were born looking like your soul already quit the job."

Argon’s expression didn’t shift.

But the silence after was heavier than the last.

Then Crisaius said, quieter this time, "He’s done with the training."

The wind paused.

Argon’s eyes shut slowly. His gloved fingers curled slightly around the hilt of his sword.

"I heard," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know." Crisaius grinned without turning around. "But I still wanted to tell."

He leapt down from the boulder with a graceful hop, boots touching the ash-covered ground with the softness of a cat’s paw.

He turned and faced Argon, his expression smug—until he saw the flicker in Argon’s eyes.

Surprise. freёwebnoѵel.com

It was rare—almost mythical—but Crisaius ignored it and gestured upward with his thumb.

"Two years. Not three. He finished it in two. And not barely—he crushed it."

Argon nodded slowly.

His eyes, however, locked onto the old man’s left cheek—just beneath his eye, there was a dark bruise.

"Where did you get that?" He asked, frowning, his eyes turning cold. "You crossed paths with a Corrupt Beast on your way back? One strong enough to injure you? Why hasn’t it healed yet?"

It was a serious matter, as Argon knew how strong the old man was.

If there were someone capable of injuring Crisaius, then they needed to be taken care of quickly.

A variable like that couldn’t be left alive.

Crisaius, on the other hand, blinked.

Then grinned.

"Oh, that? Nah, it’s nothing so dramatic." He waved a hand, like the very idea was beneath him. "That came from your boy."

"...What?"

Argon’s fingers twitched, his brows frowning harder.

"Final part of training," Crisaius said. "You remember it. The duel."

"I remember." Argon’s frown deepened. "Why are you bringing—"

He paused as something clicked in his head, but before he could shake that thought away, Crisaius confirmed it.

"Because that’s when I got the bruise, genius." Crisaius pointed at his own face proudly. "Your son. That little devil. Caught me off guard. Hit me with a new technique, stunning me for a millisecond. It was probably created by him, probably while he was chewing rocks and muttering to himself like a lunatic."

"...He injured you?" Argon asked slowly, incredulity threading his normally cold voice.

"Surprised the hell out of me, too." Crisaius chuckled. "Didn’t hurt much, mind you, but it landed. It landed well enough that I decided not to heal it. Pride, you know?"

He patted the bruise fondly. "No one’s marked me in decades. That kid? Not even Plate Four, and he did it."

Argon was quiet for a long time.

His memories returned, uninvited.

Himself. Young. Proud.

Facing Crisaius in the same final duel. He had barely lasted a minute, yet Raven had injured him.

He didn’t show it—not on his face—but in his mind, something shifted.

Something heavy.

’He’s different. Not just in temperament or attitude. In everything.’

"I trained you," Crisaius said, smiling. "I trained your father. But him? That one’s a mold breaker."

Still, Argon remained silent.

Then, after a stretch of wind-drenched quiet, he finally said, "He’s challenged five of the strongest from this generation. Together."

Crisaius blinked. "What, today?"

Argon nodded.

"Hah!" Crisaius grinned. "They’ll lose."

But something unexpected happened the next second.

"They aren’t weak," Argon said, his eyes fixed on his sword.

That made the old man pause.

He looked at Argon curiously, tilting his head. "You just... praised someone."

"I stated a fact."

"Which is practically affection coming from you," Crisaius said, snorting.

He stretched again, arms behind his back. "Well, that just means he might need to use ’that’ sooner than I thought."

Argon narrowed his eyes. "... ’That’?"

Crisaius turned, his smile widening.

"You know," he said with a wink. "That thing you learned in the final year. The thing that made you stand above your peers even after the three-year setback."

Argon’s eyes squinted as he heard that. "He learned that already?"

"Man, you forgot what I said before?" Scratching his hair in frustration, Crisaius repeated. "He had crushed the training."

Another long silence followed, and this time again, it was broken by Crisaius, who turned around, his hands folded behind his head.

"You know..." He began, staring into the horizon once before walking away. "Sometimes, the weak should be given a chance. Who knows? Something unexpected might come out."

With those words, Crisaius walked away, and although others would be confused why he said that, Argon just narrowed his eyes.

He could see it, the mother and child, corrupt, still alive, staring right at him, and the stage five beast from before, lying dead before them.

The beast had a gaping hole in its head as if it had died from a single strike, and Argon didn’t need to guess who was responsible for it.

So, in the end, although he didn’t believe it would change anything, he decided to let the mother and child pair go.

It wasn’t because something within him had changed; it was simply because he wanted to show Crisaius that his thinking was wrong.

After all, unnecessary kindness brings trouble.