I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 344: Dragon’s Eye

Chiron Stormblood stood near the eastern edge of the gardens, his eyes tracking the movement of nobles with the casual interest of a predator watching prey that held no immediate threat.

Duke Alaric approached after he met with King Eric, two glasses of wine in hand. He offered one to Chiron, and the legendary warrior accepted with a slight nod.

"Your son has changed," Chiron said without preamble, his gaze fixed on where Jack had been standing moments before. "Last time I saw him, he was talented but uncertain. Raw potential without direction."

"And now?" Alaric prompted, sipping his wine.

"Now he’s dangerous," Chiron’s smile carried approval. "He’s grown into his power in a remarkably short time."

Alaric nodded slowly; his golden eyes were thoughtful. "He’s had... extensive motivation to improve."

"I heard about Spiralus," Chiron’s voice carried genuine respect. "Killing a disaster-class threat at sixteen. That’s talent."

The two men stood in comfortable silence for a moment, both watching the celebration unfold around them. Nobles mingled, servants circulated with refreshments, and the gardens hummed with the controlled chaos of high society at play.

"How long do you think?" Chiron asked finally. "Before he surpasses us?"

Alaric’s eyebrow rose fractionally. "Us? You’re including yourself in that assessment?"

"I may be Erebon’s strongest warrior," Chiron replied with casual confidence, "but I’m not blind to reality. That boy’s scaling is already faster than mine. Imagine if he never went into a coma. Your son could have been king by now."

"Maybe in a couple of years he’ll surpass us," Alaric said quietly, as he ignored Chiron’s comment. "If he survives that long."

Chiron’s laugh was ferocious. "Maybe. Though I suspect he’ll surprise us with how quickly ’maybe’ becomes ’definitely.’"

The legendary warrior’s expression shifted fractionally, his pale eyes focusing on Alaric with intensity that made the air feel heavier. "Speaking of changes... why are Jack’s eyes red now?"

Alaric’s expression remained neutral, but his grip on the wine glass tightened fractionally. "What do you mean?"

"Don’t play games with me, Alaric." Chiron’s voice carried no malice, but the steel beneath was unmistakable. "I’ve known you too long. The last time I saw your son, his eyes were a golden hue. Same as yours, same as every member of your bloodline for generations."

He gestured toward where Jack had disappeared into the manor. "Tonight? They’re red. That’s not a trick of the light or some aesthetic choice. So I’ll ask again, what happened to make his eyes red?"

Alaric took a deliberate sip of wine, buying time to formulate his response. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chiron. Jack’s eyes have always been..."

"Stop," Chiron interrupted, his tone sharpening. "I respect you too much to accept obvious lies. Something changed your son. Something powerful enough to alter his eye color, which normally doesn’t happen unless something significant happens, like a contract, or he’s unlocked his divine blessing."

The duke remained silent, his golden eyes meeting Chiron’s pale ones with steady resolve.

"Fine," Chiron said after a long moment. "Keep your secrets. If Jack’s transformation carries risks you’re not prepared for, I’d rather know now than discover it when something goes catastrophically wrong."

"Your concern is noted," Alaric replied, his tone carefully neutral. "But some things are family matters. Internal to House Kaiser."

"Family matters," Chiron echoed, then his expression shifted into something sharper. "Speaking of family matters and things you’re keeping internal... why are you wearing illusion magic?"

The question hit like truck-kun. Alaric’s entire posture went rigid, his wine glass freezing halfway to his lips. Around them, shadows seemed to deepen despite the lantern light.

"I don’t know what..." Alaric began.

"Yes, you do," Chiron interrupted, stepping closer. His voice dropped to something quieter, meant only for Alaric’s ears. "I can see through it, Alaric. Not completely, but enough to know you’re hiding something significant beneath a very sophisticated glamour."

He gestured subtly at Alaric’s neck and face. "The question is why. What are you covering up? What beast are you hiding inside that carefully maintained exterior?"

For a long moment, Alaric said nothing. His golden eyes tracked across the gardens, ensuring no one else was close enough to overhear this conversation.

"You always were too perceptive for your own good."

"It’s kept me alive this long," Chiron replied. "Now answer the question. What are you hiding?"

Alaric’s free hand moved to his neck, fingers brushing against skin that looked perfectly normal to everyone except someone with Chiron’s level of perception. "It’s better than sealing it in a sword."

"What is?" Chiron pressed.

Instead of answering directly, Alaric made a subtle gesture with his left hand. The illusion didn’t drop completely; that would have caused panic among the assembled nobles, but it wavered enough for Chiron to see what lay beneath.

Purple cracks across Alaric’s neck and jaw, visible even in the dim light.

And his left eye, the one partially turned away from the main gathering, flickered. Just for a moment. Long enough for Chiron to see golden iris replaced by vertical purple eyes, split vertically.

Drakon’s eye, bleeding through into Alaric’s own vision.

The illusion snapped back into place, restoring Alaric’s appearance to perfect normalcy. But Chiron had seen enough.

"How long?" Chiron asked quietly.

"Does it matter?" Alaric replied reluctantly. "It’s progressing. Slowly, but inevitably. The contract I made with Drakon is reaching the end."

"Corruption. Your body is breaking down trying to contain power it was never meant to hold." Chiron said bitterly.

"I’m aware," Alaric’s smile carried no humor. "Believe me, I’m intimately aware of every moment when Drakon’s essence pushes closer to complete merger."

"How many more times?" Chiron’s voice carried genuine concern now, stripped of the casual confidence he usually projected. "How many more times can you fully manifest before your body fails entirely?"

Alaric took a long drink of wine before answering. "Three. Maybe four if I’m careful and don’t push too hard."

"That’s all?" Chiron’s expression hardened. "Alaric, you’re one of the most powerful contractors I’ve ever met. You’ve maintained your bond with Drakon for decades without showing weakness. And now you’re telling me you have four uses left before catastrophic failure?"

"Things change," Alaric said quietly. "Power demands payment. I’ve been drawing on Drakon’s strength for years, and the accumulated cost is coming due. The sealing in my sword helped for a while, but..." He gestured vaguely at his neck. "The beast doesn’t want to stay contained anymore."

Chiron was silent for a long moment, his tactical mind working through implications and possibilities. "Does Jack know?"

"No," Alaric said firmly. "And he won’t. Not until after... not until it becomes impossible to hide."

"That’s foolish," Chiron said bluntly. "He should know what you’re dealing with. Should understand that his father is fighting a war inside his own body."

"He has enough to worry about," Alaric replied. "Let him focus on his own development, his own battles. He doesn’t need the distraction of my deterioration."

"Stubborn bastard," Chiron muttered, but there was affection beneath the criticism. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But when those four uses are spent, and your body starts tearing itself apart, don’t expect me to feel sorry for you when Jack finds out you’ve been lying to him."

"Noted," Alaric said dryly. "Now, if we’re done discussing my impending physical collapse, perhaps we could talk about something more pleasant?"

"Like what?" Chiron’s grin returned. "The fact that your son just humiliated Aurelius in front of witnesses? Or that he’s apparently decided royal authority doesn’t apply to him?"

"Both seem like excellent topics," Alaric agreed. "Though I suspect Eric will want to discuss those himself soon enough."

They lapsed into comfortable silence, two old warriors watching a new generation rise to prominence.

Jack moved through the gardens with purpose, his eyes tracking Lady Starfell’s petite form near the manor’s entrance.

She stood alone, sipping some wine.

The bracelet on his wrist pulsed warmly. Every woman in the gardens drew his attention more than they should, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

Lady Starfell had mentioned wanting a private discussion about her fallen soldiers. The men who’d died defending Sorne during the battle. That was the story she was told, and everyone else was sworn to keep.

But as Jack approached, the blessing made it nearly impossible not to notice how her pale blue dress clung to impossible curves, and her bust would fall out with just one touch.

"Lady Starfell," he said, offering a slight bow. "I believe we have matters to discuss?"

"Lord Kaiser," her gentle voice carried warmth that made his pulse quicken. "Yes, about my men who fell in your service. I’d appreciate somewhere private where we can speak frankly."