The old man felt a great shudder race through his very bones, flinching his entire being. Even his gaze widened beyond belief but quickly returned to the cold land of the dead.

Silence decimated the area, leaving bystanders eyes on Melvin. Their paralysed legs were unable to move a muscle much less utter a word. Only a young man's panted breaths echoed within the silence.

"Hehehe . . . Heheheheh . . . Hahahahhaha"

Sinister-like laughs caused the halted world to be returned back to its former place; the balance scale toppled back to the old man. Melvin, having resolved himself, was forced to trudge forward.

"Old man do not make light of me." Melvin's eyebrows furrowed to hone sharp swords, aimed to cut down his foe.

The waves of laughter ceased. The old man's eyes glared back with derision.

"You want to make that insignificant Serven family great again? I had heard their family has decayed to such pathetic numbers that it would be pretentious to consider them a noble family. Furthermore, to regard them as a family is atrocious and risible.

Many have deserted the “Great family piety” and have abandoned their blood. Are you not one of those disgraceful heretics? Unfilal!!"

"OLD MAN HAVE YOUR EARS GONE DEAF?!"

"Your conviction is so laughable. Right, it was so laughable that this old one had a supper of it." He let out a laugh once again, watching the brat fume in anger.

The torment was like a boiling kettle to Melvin, dying him flushed in resentment. Consequently, his inner fear transformed into a raging volcano. He would burn this old man out of hell! He would show him what a true devil is! The two began to argue a war of words.

One female bystander was no longer able to endure this heated feud and began to intrude into the heated grounds. However, a young girl hidden from view hastily prevented her entry. In a few whispered words, she was able to change her decision. Thereafter, the young girl proceeded to convince the other bystanders to leave.

"Stupid brat. How are you going to change anything? How are you going to restore their glory?" The old man sized Melvin up. His voice seemed to have held something else besides his energising unswervable scorn.

Melvin jutted out his chin and resumed his bearing of a man from Feeria.

"Naturally, by rising to the top." The gleam in his eyes shone with sheer determination.

" . . . And how would you rise to the top?"

Melvin elegantly swipes the front of his hair, adjusting it in the process. Smiling with ease at the old man, he began to speak.

"Indeed, I am just a meer rabbit. However, even a rabbit may bite when cornered. Firstly, I will exhibit my talents in the Knights of Kingdom tourney. I will achieve a high placing to obtain credentials. I am well aware that this may have fellow Feerias look

down on me. However, they would be unable to overlook the participation of the other families. If I were to exceed their prowess, they would be unable to retort . . . "

The old man raised an eyebrow, attentively paying heed to his words.

"Afterwards, I will accommodate the next few years in my education to become a Vanquisher. I will prove that I am the most suitable out of all the enlisted peers! The Mae mistress, the irritable Yong, the prodigy Hayate, Jun's successor, the Commerce Apostle's son, all of them would not have their name considered before this Serven's name!!"

Melvin lunged his arm out in a 90° fashion, pointing his index finger with mighty ferociousness. Melvin's goal was seen by all. He will reach the apex of the food chain: to become the king of the jungle—the lion.

He then circled his lingering arm and once again lashed out another roar.

"Required by the people, land, and world, I will enter the frontlines and in line of duty, attain merit, glory, and become the first Serven and the next hero of Feeria!!!"

*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*

As if the lion had obtained wings, it soared up into the sky, leaving behind its earthly territory to venture further, ruling the skies. Flying tiger? No, he was now a part of legends—a dragon. The declarations of Melvin's words were as loud as the claps of thunder. He was like a heavenly king; his comportment would even dare to strike at Caleyar himself.

Paralysed by the dragon's vehement force, the old man felt as though his legs were full of lead. Kneel? Outrageous!

The old man regained his movement back from his moment of disability and calmly opened his mouth.

"Laudable. You are not even a mantis trying to stop a chariot." He shook his head in a disappointing manner. "And then what? Even if you were able to accomplish such things. In the end, you are just one person. People may begin to acknowledge and respect you, but so what? You want to make the Serven family great again? You are just selfish, ignorant to the fact that you would be hoarding the glory to yourself. An act upon a pretence full of righteousness for Servens. Can an idiotic brat like you understand what would happen?"

Melvin's resolve began to crumble. He understood that he had ignored the bigger picture. In fact, he had only caused a splash of disaster.

"You should know very well yourself that you are just saving yourself by stepping upon your own blood. Do you even have a shred of guilt? Unfilial!!"

Melvin felt his legs tremble and waver. Every passing sentence from this point grieved him with the harsh reality.

"Let this old one with his many decades of experience be courteous to slap you out of your stupid fantasy." Undertaking the infamous bearing of Feeria, he coldly stared down upon the brat.

"Why the Serven family will never be able to come back from the ground? Brat, we know that every noble family in Feeria has always governed over a specific area in Feeria. The Serven family has been tending to the Great Library since it existed."

>>This means that it is extremely difficult to get a job as each job is fully staffed by the Feeria family that it belongs to. The Servens were forced to lower their heads and seek elsewhere. However, in the environment of Feeria it was essentially impossible.

" . . . We are very hubristic! Competitive and haughty! We do not lend a hand to potential competitors, but rather let them fall! Those who fall are fated to be inferior! If they want to deny their fate, they must prove themselves!

>> A group mentality that is endorsed and judged by how self-sufficient and high one can be. That is what it means to be a Feeria, particularly true for the noble families.

"All strength and knowledge are only valid if obtained through their own research and efforts.

>>Generally, outside aid is scorned upon. Even those with good intentions might not agree with helping out, believing that if they are truly strong, a family will rise on their own.

"Kindness? That is a trait of the weak. The strong may be magnanimous to aid the low ones, but that is an act of pity. Complete mockery! Unless there are benefits and value, it is undeserved and disgraceful.

>> If they ask for help or receive it, that is when they are truly dishonouring their identity as a citizen of Feeria. Weakness is not tolerated amongst the nobles.

"No matter what family it is, each and every one of them embodies and upholds these ideals and beliefs. Now, what was the end result of the Serven family? Generations of wastage since their fall, failing to meet the expectations of others, losing the trust of nobles, and now are at the subject of debt. You Servens are at the point of becoming sla—"

*Thud*

Melvin's legs collapsed, and his strength vanished, losing the will to fight. His hands fell flat to the floor and were grovelling at the old man's feet. Poignant rivulets were forced out unwillingly as the words of the old man echoed in his mind. Pieces to refute him were conceived in the thick of the turmoil, but his pathetic appearance was evidence of how naive he was. He understood these things firsthand.

"Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck everything . . . " Melvin's streams of cusses cried out in despair. Nobody could hear his anguished mutters as they were simply too inaudible for others to hear. It was as though he was closing himself alone from the cold hard truth.

The young girl watched on silently with a boy beside her. Hesitation plastered all over their faces: to intervene or not to intervene.

Feeria's culture was different from the rest. It was unlike Cresuilge Kingdom, Gigan, Missionary Church, Zetral, and to some extent, the Swamp. It was truly the survival of the fittest.

"Brat. I have nothing more to say." The old man's eyes were empty and dull. He gave a long-lasting look at the boy and turned away.

Footsteps of the old man leaving were unhurried, but to Melvin it felt like a ticking time bomb. The further away the steps resounded, the closer it was to his impending destruction.

*Tick* *Tick* *Tick* The sounds were getting louder.

(Obtaining strength to rise to the top is only a process . . . a means to achieve my goal. As of now, I'm just a lousy cur who is all bark and no bite. However . . . However!) Mustering his resolve to defuse the bomb, he raised his head and unleashed one final bark.

"—I, Melvin Servin, shall not yield to defeat. Mark my words old man. This Serven has vowed an oath with Heaven and Earth as my witness."

" . . . "

Gazing at the old man's retreating figure with desperation, Melvin felt uncomfortable with how haggard he was. It did not seem to be due to exhaustion from his outburst nor from his declining age. It was a blatant contrast to his vigorous demeaning attitude. Regardless of this enigmatic feeling, he scorched the scenes of this old man into his mind.

In the future, I will utterly prove this old man incorrect.