Chapter 261

As Theo led the Northern Alliance closer to Winterer, the results of the battles were making headlines across the continent.

Every line in the reports captured the attention of readers, each revelation more shocking than the last.

“Unbelievable…”

“This can’t be real…”

The news that garnered the most interest was the demise of Kyle Ragnar.

Kyle, who had long been regarded as the continent’s most formidable warrior, was no more—a revelation that sent shockwaves throughout the land.

Adding to the astonishment was the appearance of Ragnar’s legendary Guardian Dragon, previously dismissed as mere myth, and mentions of the undead threat.

Moreover, rumors of the Mage Tower’s downfall—its suspected involvement in the war—became a heated topic.

And as Theo’s name echoed across the continent as the next clan head, the continent erupted in uproar.

Particularly enraged was the Tower Lord of the Mage Tower upon seeing the posters.

Meanwhile, the Electors sent spies to Winterer, attempting to gauge the emerging dynamics. Some Electors even decided to move personally, eager to witness the heir of Kyle Ragnar with their own eyes.

Finally, the Northern Alliance, which had stirred a new storm across the continent, returned triumphantly to Winterer.

BWOOOOOO!

"Hurrah!"

As the gates of Winterer opened, crowds erupted in cheers, scattering flower petals in celebration.

Though the loss of Kyle Ragnar might have cast a shadow, the northern people viewed death as a noble honor.

With Theo carrying on Kyle’s legacy, the cheers reverberated through the entire city.

Of course, there was another reason for the excitement.

“…Isn’t this enough?”

Beside Theo stood Lodbrok, now in her human form, her expression nearly devoid of emotion—save for a faint flicker of embarrassment that only Theo could notice.

“No.”

Theo replied with a bright smile, a silent declaration that further questions were unnecessary.

At this, Lodbrok grimaced, doing her best to maintain her composure despite her obvious discomfort.

After all, she had agreed to a condition:

—As the new clan head, you’ll have unlimited access to mint chocolate whenever you want.

Additionally, this moment served as part of her "socialization training," which Theo had proposed. Hence, she stood dressed in proper human attire, appearing alongside him in a humanoid form rather than her dragonic one.

The sight of the two standing together only fueled the crowd’s enthusiasm.

“Long live the Guardian Dragon!”

“Long live Ragnar!”

Lodbrok’s pupils trembled at the overwhelming cheers, while Theo smirked and confidently led the procession.

At the end of the parade route stood Cecilia, waiting quietly.

“My son!”

Her face lit up as she ran toward Theo, tears glistening in her eyes.

Years of scorn, ridicule, and adversity flashed through her mind as she saw her son—now radiant and majestic, a source of pride.

Leading the Nine Dragons and the army from the front, Theo cut an impressive figure.

When Theo reached Cecilia, he dismounted and embraced her warmly.

“You’ve endured so much, Mother.”

The embrace carried profound meaning—an expression of gratitude, comfort, and reassurance. It was Theo’s way of protecting Cecilia from further gossip and doing what Kyle had never been able to do.

“You’ve worked so hard, my son,” Cecilia said with a joyful smile, holding Theo tightly.

The absence of Kyle lingered in her heart, but she suppressed her sorrow, knowing that grieving would help neither Kyle nor Theo.

“Things will only get better now,” Theo said with a smile as he released her.

“I’ll see you at home shortly,” he added before remounting his horse and disappearing into the cheering crowd.

The Plum Blossom Sovereign offered Cecilia a slight nod and followed after Theo.

“You’ve done well.”

Kirsion patted Cecilia’s shoulder. He had planned to reveal himself during the triumphal return but found no opportunity amid the excitement.

Understanding Cecilia’s pain yet knowing it wasn’t his place to heal her wounds, Kirsion had simply observed from a distance.

But now, seeing Theo publicly honor his mother, Kirsion felt it was enough. From this day forward, Cecilia’s name would rarely be sullied by rumors.

Wiping her tears, Cecilia stood with a bright expression.

“Let’s go. The succession ceremony will be held soon, and there’s much to prepare.”

Her steps were light and lively as she hurried away, her demeanor more energetic than ever. Kirsion chuckled as he followed her.

—Now that Theo’s the clan head, ordinary gifts won’t satisfy him… This is going to cost me a fortune again.

He sighed inwardly, already imagining the financial burden to come.

***

A towering black spire stood as if it sought to pierce the heavens. Its imposing presence, rising high above the surrounding landscape, seemed to symbolize the unparalleled power its owners held in the region.

At the spire's apex lay the residence of the Mage Tower Lord. The space, a dazzling replica of an imperial palace, was as extravagant as it was overwhelming.

Sitting upon a massive throne at its center was Clarest Monte, the Mage Tower Lord.

“...Not only has my brother been turned into an undead, but even the Bone Dragon has been annihilated by those Ragnar scum. And now? They dare summon me to Winterer?”

BOOM!

The Mage Tower Lord’s furious roar echoed throughout the chamber as the armrest of the throne shattered under the force of his clenched fist.

CRACKLE...

Debris from the armrest spilled to the floor as Clarest Monte rose to his feet.

Kneeling in the central hall, trembling uncontrollably, were Gridd and Najariu.

“Speak. If you have mouths to beg with, explain how this disaster came to pass.”

“M-my deepest apologies. Even with ten mouths, I couldn’t—Hiiek!”

CRASH!

The Mage Tower Lord hurled a crystal orb beside him, and its shattered shards floated ominously in the air. They glimmered under the light, their sharp edges reflecting an eerie brilliance.

“Indeed, even with ten mouths, you’d lack the words to justify this disgrace. You’ve smeared filth on my reputation, and now you’ll pay with your lives.”

“Tower Lord! Please, spare me!” Gridd’s voice cracked with desperation as he begged for mercy.

“Silence.”

SHNK! SHNK! SHNK!

The glass shards flew, slicing through Gridd’s face and tearing it apart.

“Gah... guh...”

Gridd’s trembling form collapsed, lifeless, to the ground, his blood pooling around Najariu’s knees.

The Mage Tower Lord turned his cold gaze to Najariu, ignoring the fresh corpse.

“Deputy Tower Lord, explain. How did this happen?”

Najariu, steady despite the tension, spoke with a calm demeanor.

“Theo... Theo Ragnar’s capabilities far exceeded our expectations.”

“You claim this entire disaster is because of that one boy?”

SHNK!

The glass shards rose again, gleaming in the light.

“Do you even understand the gravity of the current situation?”

Najariu held the Mage Tower Lord’s icy gaze. “I understand perfectly.”

“Hah.”

Clarest Monte scoffed and returned to his throne. The hovering shards fell with a sharp clatter, scattering anew across the floor.

“I will give you one chance to redeem yourself. Deliver results within a month. Fail, and you will join that wretch.”

“I understand. But, Tower Lord...”

“What?”

“What will you do about Ragnar?”

The Mage Tower Lord’s expression twitched.

The betrayal of their allied factions was already a bitter pill to swallow. Yet, the bold demands from the Ragnar clan could not be ignored. The situation teetered on the brink of war, demanding utmost caution.

Though his pride was wounded, Clarest Monte knew there was only one viable course of action.

“...I don’t like this.”

He tapped the armrest of his throne, his face clouded with frustration.

“I hear their new legion was also created by their new clan head. Seeing him face-to-face would allow for better judgment,” his secretary advised carefully.

The Mage Tower Lord clicked his tongue, his features twisting in irritation.

“Fine... that would be wise.”

Though swallowing his pride was galling, the prospect of meeting this audacious new clan head intrigued him.

“Leave me. Prepare for a summons when it arrives.”

“As you command!”

Left alone in the grand hall, Clarest Monte exhaled deeply.

“Theo Ragnar…”

For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of curiosity—not for knowledge, but for a person. A faint smile curled on his lips as his eyes gleamed with interest.

Theo’s Return to Winterer

After his triumphant return, Theo made his way to the clan’s ceremonial hall.

The throne that once seemed destined for Kyle Ragnar now awaited its new occupant.

“Take a seat,” came the calm voice of the Black Dragon.

Julius and the Plum Blossom Sovereign stood nearby, nodding with satisfaction as they observed Theo.

“Yes.”

Theo approached slowly and sat upon the throne.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

“Oh, it suits you better than I imagined,” Julius said with a smile.

“Quite impressive,” added the Plum Blossom Sovereign.

“I never thought the day would come when the clan head changed during my lifetime,” the Black Dragon remarked.

Theo felt unworthy of the position, aware of the weight that came with it. But as he sat, a strange sense of ease settled over him, as though the throne had always been meant for him.

And yet, the gravity of it all was undeniable.

“From this moment, you lead the Ragnar clan. The succession ceremony will be held in one week. Prepare accordingly,” the Black Dragon declared solemnly.

The words struck Theo with their weight. The ceremony would be a declaration to the world: Theo Ragnar was now the head of the Ragnar clan.

Finally, I’ve come this far, Theo thought, his chest swelling with a mix of pressure and exhilaration.

SNAP!

The Black Dragon snapped his fingers, and a procession of attendants entered, each carrying piles of documents.

“These are the matters you must handle going forward. Get accustomed to them,” the Black Dragon said with a faint smirk.

Theo’s earlier exhilaration rapidly cooled as he stared at the towering stacks of paperwork.

Why does it feel like my blood is already running cold?