Chapter 436: Damon The Ascendant
The wealthy truly lived the good life—beautiful clothes, lavish residences, and more than that, they had people to serve them.
Perhaps those who had only known the mundane, peasant life didn't realize it, but the moment you feel what it's like to have someone serve you… you can never go back.
Maybe that was why certain people treated restaurant staff so poorly. Or why nobles and officials in high places walked around like the world owed them everything.
They told the common man that there was virtue in poverty, that being rich was immoral, corrupt.
But Damon would have liked to give all of that nonsense a proud, two-handed middle finger.
Being rich was worlds apart from being poor.
Where else could you see such lavish décor, wear such expensive clothes, eat such wonderful food—and most of all—be flanked by beautiful maids and protected by knights who looked like they could wrestle dragons?
If you were born into power, your word was law.
A shame, really… that he had been born a dirty commoner. Just another one of the ninety-nine percent who weren't lucky enough to come from noble blood.
And yet, still had to live under the whims of those who were.
But that didn't mean he wouldn't rise. That didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy the festivities.
The Grand Duke had set up a grand ball—though naturally, he hadn't announced he'd attend personally.
After all, he'd been a shut-in for nineteen years. If the nobles of Valtheron knew he'd be here, there would be airships and teleportation spells flying in from every corner of the empire just to meet him.
Still, even without him, all the regional nobles under the Brightwater banner had already arrived.
From the balcony where Damon stood, he saw opulent carriages rolling in, each one marked by unique house crests.
There were press carriages too, equipped with magical artifacts capable of capturing still images.
Naturally, the rumors of Damon's party returning had spread quickly. And of course, many had become wildly exaggerated.
Still, Damon wasn't allowed into the main hall just yet.
It wasn't because he was a commoner…
'Or wait… it could be.'
But he doubted it. More likely, it was because he had been asked to wait for the Grand Duke to arrive before entering.
While he waited, a table full of snacks stood nearby. Maids flitted about with eager smiles. But Damon didn't touch anything.
He wasn't waiting to enter the ballroom.
He was waiting for the Grand Duke to leave his quarters.
"After all… if he stays there, how can I sneak in?"
It wasn't long before Damon sensed it—a subdued, massive presence drawing near.
Along with the sound of orderly footsteps—knights, most likely.
Damon turned.
There he was.
Golden hair streaked with silver. A regal white outfit embossed in gold.
Damon, by contrast, was the opposite.
He wore black, silver embroidery threading through his cloak. The crown on his head hidden beneath his enchanted hood.
There was some similarity in design between their outfits.
'Looks like the old man's trying to send a message…'
Damon glanced once more at the balcony.
'Looks like Lilith won't be able to make it on time after all… guess I'll just have to hope for the best.'
Naturally, he followed behind the Grand Duke as the knights at the door stood aside and saluted.
The doors opened.
He could hear the voice of the announcer ringing through the grand ballroom:
"His Excellency, the Grand Duke Damien Brightwater, Sun of the Empire."
Surprisingly brief. Damon had expected something far more drawn out as an act of sycophancy.
He shouldn't have celebrated so soon.
Because it was his turn next.
As he followed the Grand Duke into the ballroom, hundreds of gazes turned silently toward him.
The announcer's voice echoed again, now louder and more dramatic:
"By his side… a hero of the Empire. A legend in the making. One of valor—a man who carries the indomitable spirit of the Valtheron Empire. He who single-handedly slew a rank four monster only days after reaching the First Class…"
"A prodigy who led his party through not one, not two, but three Death Zones… truths say he has conquered the Path of Kings and earned himself the noble title of Ascendant…"
"We are pleased to welcome an honored guest of the Grand Duke…
Damon the Ascendant."
Damon froze.
If the Grand Duke hadn't kept walking, he might have tripped over his own feet.
He hadn't even noticed they'd already reached the center of the ballroom.
Flashes of magical image-capturing artifacts lit up around him.
Next to him, the Grand Duke stood with that same, calm smile.
And nobles stared. Dozens. Hundreds.
Murmurs began to spread like fire.
"I heard he reached Second Class only months after his First—and he's not far from Third."
"My sources say he faced Ashergon and lived…"
"They say he slew a rank four Beldam in her nest… with a single strike."
A woman's voice floated from the crowd.
"What does he even look like? I heard no one's ever seen his face—he always wears a hood."
"That's because he's covered in scars. From fighting the great dragon Ashergon."
"It's all exaggerated… I mean, I heard he's a commoner…"
"I heard it was Lord Ravenscroft who led the party. He was just too humble to take the credit."
"A commoner could never…"
Damon heard it all—rumors, praise, doubt, credit redirected to his friends.
Some said Xander led the party. Some Evangeline. Some claimed he just tagged along.
But what made Damon pause wasn't the gossip.
It was how the announcer had not used his full name.
'The Grand Duke doesn't want the name Grey out…'
And Damon understood why.
Still, none of that mattered now.
Because he had finally gotten the Grand Duke to leave his quarters.
The old man thought he was watching Damon…
But the truth was—Damon was watching him.
In Damon's room, a shadow slipped beneath the door.
It stretched, shifted, rose… taking his form.
He now wore the Shadow Armor.
Activating the Faceless skill, his appearance remained the same—yet no one could recognize him.
Anyone who looked at this clone would not be able to connect him to Damon.
He had used the Shadow Clone skill.
This was his double.
'I can be in two places at once, old man…'
It was time to confirm the truth.