MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

The world had shifted subtly over the past month since Anthony's grand birthday banquet, a time when the festivities of the event still echoed in the air.

Yet, for all its joy, a certain stillness had settled in Anthony's life.

He had become an observer of his own days, each one slipping by in a haze of indulgence.

He spent hours, if not entire days, lazing about the estate, drifting between sleep and waking, ensnared in the luxury and peace afforded to him by the Null legacy.

Anthony's usual restlessness had been replaced by a quiet lethargy, an odd contentment as he took each moment in stride.

The weight of his power had grown less pressing with the passage of time, as though the urgency of his existence had momentarily faded.

He felt disconnected from the ever-changing world outside, where events of great import were unfolding, a stark contrast to his own placid lifestyle.

In that month, the one constant motion within the Null estate had been the departure of Collins.

The former patriarch of the Null lineage, alongside his wife Irene, had left for the battlefield once more, their figures vanishing like twin shadows swallowed by the storm of war.

It was a departure marked by silence, no fanfare, no long-winded speeches, simply the departure of two titans in pursuit of another battlefield, where the echoes of their power would once again shape the fate of those who crossed their path.

In the grand halls of the Null estate, the absence of their presence felt as heavy as the weight of a mountain.

Yet, in the farthest corners of the estate, Anthony rested, oblivious to the world that moved on without him.

His mind was consumed by dreams, unbroken by the need for responsibility or action.

His life was that of a prince, unchallenged in his leisure, or so it seemed.

But today, the tranquil monotony of Anthony's existence would be shattered.

The soft knock on his door broke through the veil of his sleep.

He stirred slightly, his head rising from the plushness of the pillow, but his body remained languid and unwilling to move.

Another knock, firmer this time, pierced through the layers of his groggy haze.

"Young Master"

A voice called through the door, its polite and respectful tone making the air around it vibrate slightly.

"The Patriarch requests your presence. He awaits you in the Grand Hall"

The words, though polite and formal, carried an undeniable weight, one that had Anthony lifting himself from the bed with swift and practiced ease.

His body, still half-ensnared by sleep, protested the sudden movement, but there was no denying the command in the voice.

It was time to face whatever awaited him.

He dressed quickly, his motions as fluid as a man who had long been accustomed to the rituals of high life.

He donned his finest attire, carefully selecting each piece, but his mind remained distant, preoccupied with the task at hand.

The knock and the message had stirred something in him, a rare sensation, like a cloud passing over his mind, something he could not name, but that felt unsettling in its unfamiliarity.

When he stood before the great door leading to the Grand Hall,

Anthony paused.

A strange presence hung in the air, a suffocating weight that seemed to emanate from within the room.

His hand hovered over the door handle, sensing a shift, a shift in the very atmosphere that surrounded him.

His father's aura, a force he knew so well, was now more than just the familiar presence of a jovial patriarch.

It was grand, imposing, and yet, strangely... cold.

Anthony's hand fell to his side as he stepped back, feeling the oppressive weight of Michael's presence press down on him.

He could almost feel the strength of the aura through the door, the pulse of power vibrating through the thick wood.

Gone was the usual warmth, the easy laughter, the jovial nature of his father.

In its place, a far more serious energy surrounded the patriarch, a force that left no room for jest, no space for warmth, no sense of familiarity.

Anthony closed his eyes for a moment, grounding himself, gathering his composure before stepping forward.

This was no longer a meeting between father and son.

This was a meeting between the patriarch of the Null family and his heir, an exchange of matters too grave for sentiment.

He opened the door slowly, the creaking sound seeming to echo in the vast hall.

And there, in the heart of the room, stood Michael, his back straight and regal.

His usual warm, inviting aura was now replaced by a disciplined, sharp edge.

His expression was serious, unreadable.

Gone was the man who could always be counted on for a laugh and a ruffle of Anthony's hair.

Today, Michael stood as a pillar of authority, commanding and powerful.

"Father"

Anthony began, his voice measured and respectful as he lowered his head in a gesture that reflected the seriousness of the moment.

"I greet the Patriarch"

Michael's eyes flickered for a moment, a brief flash of recognition crossing his features.

His lips twitched, but the usual smile never came.

He stood tall, a king in his own right, his entire presence imposing.

The air seemed to ripple with the power he exuded, his body cloaked in the calm authority of a ruler.

"You may rise"

Michael said, his voice deep and unwavering.

There was no humor in his tone, no softness to his words.

He spoke like one who had far more to say than just pleasantries.

"There is much to discuss, Anthony"

As his son rose to his feet, Michael did not waste time with pleasantries.

His eyes locked onto Anthony's with a gaze that was intense, as though trying to pierce through him.

"The time has come for you to stand beside me in a matter far beyond our family's usual dealings"

Michael began.

"A gathering is taking place soon, and I've been asked to send one of my own to represent me. And you, Anthony, will be the one to carry my name in this"

Anthony's brows furrowed slightly, the gravity of his father's words striking him.

He could sense that Michael was not playing around, this was not some routine task.

The air in the room had thickened further, and the weight of the situation pressed against Anthony's chest.

The patriarch's voice was devoid of the usual warmth, his words clipped, efficient.

"I trust you will not disgrace me in this matter"

Michael continued, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"The task ahead will test you in ways you cannot yet comprehend, but I have no doubt that you are prepared. You will face challenges that will push you to your limits, Anthony. Remember your place, and remember who you represent"

Anthony nodded solemnly, his mind racing with the possibilities of what his father was saying.

A gathering? His father's tone was unmistakable, this was no mere gathering, no meeting of minds.

This was something far more dangerous, and Anthony felt the quiet tension between them.

Before he could respond, Michael's gaze softened for a fraction of a second, just enough for Anthony to catch it.

"Your life is on the line in this, Anthony. Even if you overcome what is coming, what follows... may be far worse"

Anthony's heart skipped a beat, the weight of his father's words sinking in.

But the confidence that Michael had in him was clear, even in his stern tone.

Michael knew the dangers, but he also knew his son.

Anthony's mind raced with possibilities, his father had always been his greatest teacher, but this time, the stakes were higher than ever.

The moment stretched on as father and son locked eyes, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Michael's gaze, as always, was full of quiet strength.

He did not need to speak further to know that Anthony would take this task seriously.

Still, his voice carried a finality, a sense of closure.

"Go now, Anthony. You will prepare for what's coming"

Michael said, his voice more gentle now, but the commanding presence remained.

"I will be watching"

Anthony nodded once more, bowing his head slightly before turning and walking toward the door, his mind heavy with unanswered questions.

As he exited, Michael's eyes followed him, a sigh escaping his lips as the door closed behind Anthony.

There was pride in his heart, yes, but also fear.

Fear for the path that awaited his son.

Even if Anthony succeeded in this bloodbath, what would await him after? The world was shifting, and Michael knew all too well that it was a world that might not allow his son to survive for long.

Still, he had no choice but to place his trust in Anthony.

The boy had come so far.

Yet, Michael would not let his guard down.

Not now.

Not with everything at stake.

The calm, collected patriarch stood alone in the vast hall, his mind racing with the many threads of fate that were now pulling his son toward an unknown future.

As Anthony stepped away from the Grand Hall, his mind was clouded with the weight of his father's words.

He could feel the lingering pressure of Michael's presence still tugging at him, even as the door closed behind him.

It was clear this was no ordinary task.

The patriarch's somber warning echoed in his ears, the grave tone far removed from the usual warmth Michael exuded.

Anthony walked down the long corridor, his footsteps heavy, each one feeling like it reverberated throughout the estate.

His mind raced, piecing together fragments of information, but the puzzle refused to fit together.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something far larger than him was in motion, and he, as always, was a player in a game whose rules he could not yet comprehend.

But then, as his thoughts swirled, a memory began to surface, a conversation he had once had with the Dean of the Academy, back when the Dean had spoken those cryptic words that had never fully left his mind.

The words echoed in his thoughts now, clearer than ever.

"The world would need your help soon"

At the time, those words had seemed vague, perhaps even melodramatic, considering his life at the Academy had been relatively uneventful up until some time ago.

But now, in the quiet of the hallway, as the full weight of his father's stern words settled over him, it felt as though a light had been flicked on in the darkness of his mind.

The pieces were beginning to align, just a little.

He thought back to his father's words in the Grand Hall.

"Even if you overcome what's coming, what follows… may be far worse"

Those words had carried the undeniable weight of experience, of someone who had lived through far too much to ignore the stakes of what was to come.

His mind flickered back to the Dean's warning.

The world might need him soon.

The bloodbath his father had spoken of, the gathering, whatever it truly was, it felt connected, as if they were two pieces of a much larger puzzle.

Was this what the Dean had spoken on?

Was the time finally upon him?

As the connection clicked into place, Anthony's lips curled into a faint smile, a small gesture that seemed incongruent with the gravity of the situation.

He didn't yet have the full picture.

Far from it.
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There were still gaps, critical pieces missing from the puzzle.

But one thing was clear now: whatever was to come, he would face it. No matter how dire or perilous, he would rise to meet it.

The world was indeed shifting, and his place in it was being carved out before his very eyes.

His steps quickened as he moved through the estate, the weight of his father's words and the Dean's words becoming one in his mind.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through him, and with it came the recognition that he was no longer merely a bystander in his own life.

Forces, greater than he could imagine, were at play.

The gathering his father had mentioned, the bloodshed, the challenges yet to come, it was all connected.

And as Anthony smiled, the uncertainty in his heart began to give way to something else: Battle Intent.