SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 484: A Blade Well Earned

A short time later, Aubrelle had departed Euclid.

By then, Trafalgar had finished his bath and donned clean attire. The lingering warmth of the water had dissipated, substituted by the somber weight of responsibilities awaiting him outside the mansion walls. For the first time since he awoke, he was truly solitary.

He sat within a private dining chamber, a plate set before him. He sliced into a succulent steak while a glass of fine wine stood near his hand. Having awakened famished—a natural consequence of the previous night’s events—anything less would have been stranger.

For a brief period, only the gentle clink of silverware against porcelain disturbed the silence of the room.

Euclid had returned to tranquility.

The nuptials were finished, the guests had dispersed, and Aubrelle had already vacated the premises. The mansion had regained its accustomed state, though the stillness today carried a different nuance than before. It was once again his domain—his house, his territory, his subjects.

Yet, he would not remain tethered to it for long.

Tomorrow, he was due back at the academy. This evening, a gathering in Velkaris loomed. Prior to that, a meeting of high importance awaited his presence.

Trafalgar consumed another bite, chewed meditatively, and refreshed himself with the wine.

’There is truly no reprieve.’

Not that he complained. Leaving himself stagnant for too long only invited others to dictate his path.

After a moment, he glanced toward a maid waiting respectfully near the entrance.

"Fetch Arthur."

"At once, Young Master."

She bowed her head and departed without delay.

Trafalgar focused on his meal once more. After cutting another piece of steak and eating, he leaned back, his mind already drifting to the tasks ahead. Arthur first, then Euclid, and afterward...

His gaze dropped momentarily to his wine glass.

Vivienne.

The Primordial.

Even now, with the encounter imminent, it felt surreal that he was finally about to stand before someone of his bloodline who was neither himself nor Rhosyn. That revelation alone eclipsed all other matters.

Nevertheless, Euclid took priority.

He refused to depart without ensuring that his affairs here remained in perfect order.

Trafalgar lifted his glass again for another drink. The steak was exquisite; the wine exceeded the quality of what was offered previously. The chamber remained cozy, and the morning had begun with a rare peace.

It would not last long.

Minutes later, a knock echoed at the door.

Trafalgar finished his bite, set aside his cutlery, and wiped his mouth with a napkin before speaking.

"Enter."

The portal swung open, and Arthur stepped inside.

He carried himself with his customary grounded composure—broad-shouldered and possessing a solid presence that demanded no show. His hair was cropped, blond highlights marred by gray at the temples, and his brown eyes retained the restless alertness of a man shaped by battlefields rather than grand halls.

He paused a few paces in and dipped his head.

"You summoned me, Young Master?"

Trafalgar studied him briefly before dropping the napkin. "I have stated before that when we are in private, you may call me by my name."

Arthur exhaled a breath, a blend of habit and resignation. "Then... you summoned me, Trafalgar?"

"Correct." Trafalgar reclined in his chair. "Tomorrow I return to the academy. This means you shall remain here, managing Euclid, overseeing the troops, and conducting their daily training alongside your other duties." His eyes remained fixed on Arthur. "I almost feel as if I am exploiting you."

Arthur’s expression shifted instantly. "Please, do not suggest that." He spoke with quiet intensity. "If anyone should feel gratitude, it is I. You bestowed such trust upon me despite my origins. I spent years toiling in your father’s lower squadrons. Men like me rarely receive such responsibility."

Trafalgar took another sip of wine before replying. "There is no need for flattery, Arthur."

"I am not flattering you."

"Is that so?" A faint smirk touched Trafalgar’s lips. "Then you are more genuine than most within my House."

Arthur accepted the assessment without flinching. "I am sincere."

This prompted Trafalgar to linger on him for a moment longer before offering a single nod. "Very well. Then I shall be equally sincere. I value your presence here. More than once, you have lightened my burdens."

Arthur bowed his head, saying nothing.

"As usual, we shall maintain our monthly meetings," Trafalgar continued. "You will report on the status of things here, identify what requires attention, and notify me immediately of any complications in Euclid before they escalate."

"Understood."

Trafalgar set down his glass. "Excellent. That is settled." He paused, his tone shifting. "Now, for the primary reason I called you here."

Arthur’s focus sharpened.

Trafalgar extended a hand over the table.

A sword materialized from thin air above his palm.

The blade was pristine and refined, its elegant surface shimmering with the pale luster of superior alloy, adorned with intricate runes that caught the light. It was not overtly flamboyant, yet any seasoned warrior would immediately recognize its immense value. Beyond the material, it exuded the unmistakable pressure of high-tier quality—the kind of weapon that leaves an impression the moment it is gripped.

Arthur’s eyes remained locked on the weapon.

"...That is a magnificent blade."

"It is," Trafalgar remarked. "It cost me a substantial amount of gold."

Arthur glanced from the sword to Trafalgar, clearly expecting him to continue with further instructions.

Instead, Trafalgar stated, "I have little use for it. Maledicta suits me far better. It is yours."

For the first time since entering, Arthur looked truly stunned.

He stared at the sword, then back at Trafalgar, attempting to verify he had heard correctly. "For me?"

"Indeed."

Arthur remained motionless. "Are you being serious?"

Trafalgar’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Do I appear to be joking?"

"No," Arthur conceded quickly. He paused, then whispered, "But this is an Epic weapon."

"I am aware of its rank."

Arthur said nothing more.

The reaction was expected. Such a blade was no trifling gift. A man like Arthur might procure such a weapon eventually through decades of saving or sheer luck, but being gifted one across a table was entirely different.

Trafalgar kept his hand extended, Nightpiercer hovering above his palm.

"You provide more service than most in my wake," he explained. "Your loyalty has been absolute. You keep Euclid functioning in my absence. You drill the soldiers, lead them, and ensure things don't collapse should I be diverted elsewhere." His voice remained composed, yet it carried weight. "Furthermore, during the war, you maneuvered your squad exactly as I required."

Arthur listened in total silence.

Trafalgar pressed on. "Under your command, we suffered only one loss. Only one." He held Arthur’s gaze. "Facing such adversaries, trapped in that hellish combat, I could not have asked for better. You performed beyond expectations. You provided exactly what was required."

Arthur’s hand clenched at his side, though his demeanor remained disciplined.

"Take it," Trafalgar commanded. "You have earned this."

For a fleeting moment, neither moved.

Then, Trafalgar lowered the sword, resting it on the table between them.

Arthur stepped forward. With slow, reverent movements, he reached out and touched the hilt.

An instant later, Nightpiercer vanished into his inventory.

Silence stretched for a heartbeat before Arthur summoned the blade back into his grasp.

It fit him perfectly.

Arthur studied the weapon, his fingers tightening around the grip to test the balance without needing a practice swing. Such quality spoke for itself.

After a moment, he dismissed it and looked at Trafalgar.

"Thank you, Trafalgar." His voice was hushed, but firm. "I truly mean it. I will not forget this."

Trafalgar dismissed the gratitude with a wave. "Simply continue as you have been."

Arthur gave a sharp nod. "I shall. And I hope you continue to place your faith in me as you have until now."

"I will," Trafalgar replied. "Provided you continue giving me cause to."

This drew a trace of a smile from Arthur.

"Fair enough."

Trafalgar reached for his wine. "That will be all."

Arthur straightened his posture. "Understood." He bowed one last time. "Thank you, Young Master." He转身 exited, closing the door softly.

For a second, Trafalgar lingered, glass in hand, observing the door with a dry glimmer in his eyes.

’He called me Young Master again.’

He sighed softly.

’I suppose it is time to depart. Truly, there is no rest for the great Trafalgar du Morgain.’ His gaze flicked toward the table. ’Very well, time to move and cease this idle complaining.’

He finished his meal in silence. The steak was consumed, along with the remainder of the wine. Leaving the dishes for the servants, he rose from his chair without further delay.

Moments later, Trafalgar emerged from the mansion, leaving Euclid once again.

The air was crisp and chill, significantly harsher than the warmth within. The estate lay silent behind him, the wedding becoming but a fading memory. Arthur was in position; Euclid would hold. That was sufficient.

Trafalgar pressed onward.

The Gate leading to Velkaris rose ahead of him, and with every step, his focus detached further from the mansion and the recent festivities.

This was the moment he had been waiting for.

After such a long journey, he was finally on the verge of encountering another of his bloodline.

Someone aside from Rhosyn.

Someone woven directly into the mystery he had spent so long pursuing.

As the Gate came into full view, Trafalgar watched it in silence.

The anticipation had been simmering for days; as he drew closer, the weight of it became palpable. Vivienne would be present, naturally. Yet, she was not the source of his heightened heart rate.

The true reason lay hidden behind her.

A Primordial.

In a mere moment, Trafalgar would finally stand in the presence of one.