Cross was furious.
His entire body trembled as he stared at his son, his chest rising and falling heavily as if each breath carried a storm inside it.
The man who stood as one of the highest authorities in the Holy Kingdom, the Prime Minister of Light, the right hand of the Holy King himself, now looked less like a composed noble and more like a father whose patience had been shattered beyond repair.
"This brat… this damned brat…"
His voice cracked, yet it grew louder, echoing across the grand hall as every minister, knight, and attendant turned their full attention toward him.
"In the past, you were respectful. You knew your place. You knew what it meant to stand before His Majesty. You knew what it meant to carry the name of Valmont!"
His finger pointed straight at Clay, shaking with rage.
"But now? Now look at you!"
"You stand there like a stranger! You ignore your father as if my words are nothing but air!"
His tone rose higher, sharper.
