Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

Chapter 73 73 The Gathering Storm

William tilted his head slightly.

Where was this going?

Aizen clasped his hands behind his back, his expression growing serious.

"So my advice to you is this—do not waste time on excessive technique. Instead, hone your ability to deliver overwhelming, explosive force."

William blinked.

"...Sir Aizen," he said carefully. "Are you telling me that my technique is so lacking that I should just rely on brute force?"

"Hahaha!"

"That wasn't a joke."

"Hahahaha!"

The swordmaster only laughed harder.

But after a moment, he sobered, his expression softening.

"Do not misunderstand," Aizen said. "I mean every word I said. With your physique and strength, most knights will fall before you like autumn leaves. And at the end of the day—there is no single path to swordsmanship's peak."

His eyes gleamed with certainty.

"Some reach it through finesse and technique," he continued. "Others... through pure destructive power."

William crossed his arms, unimpressed.

"A swordmaster with no finesse doesn't sound very impressive," he muttered.

Aizen simply smiled.

"You say that now," he mused. "But imagine this—if you reach the pinnacle of your strength..."

He paused.

William arched a brow.

"...If I reach it, then what?"

Aizen met his gaze.

"Then even the dragons of legend may fall before a single strike of your blade."

William blinked.

He had expected mocking laughter, a dismissive remark, or even a joke at his expense.

But Aizen's gaze was steady.

His words, absolute.

William felt a deep sense of regret. The elixir he had been consuming was effective, but compared to the original formula, it was nothing more than a diluted substitute. Every drop had been dedicated to strengthening his body, leaving no excess to be shared. He sighed. If he had enough, he would have gladly provided it to his people, but at this rate, there was barely enough for himself.

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Young Master."

William turned to see Hans standing at the doorway. With a final glance at the empty vials and scattered remnants of alchemical ingredients, he pushed them aside and rose from his seat.

"What is it?"

"The Duke has summoned you," Hans said, his tone unusually serious. "He is calling for a family meeting. It concerns an important matter."

"A family meeting?" William's expression sharpened. "Are all the wives attending as well?"

"It seems so."

His frown deepened. The last time they had gathered, it had been under the pretense of a casual breakfast. But now, the Duke had called it what it truly was—a family council. It was a declaration that the issue at hand was not just of personal concern to the Duke but a matter that involved the entirety of House Hern.

The implications were clear.

William's thoughts raced. There was only one event that fit the timeline—one that he had been preparing for. It was the next major turning point, the first ripple in a tide of history that would reshape the Empire. It was too early for the rebellion itself, but if the high-ranking nobles were beginning their preparations, then the timing aligned perfectly.

"Prepare my attire," William said without hesitation. "We leave immediately."

His heartbeat quickened—the first time since mastering the Lionheart Sword. If his instincts were right, this was a defining moment.

By the time he arrived at the ducal estate, nearly all had gathered. Three brothers. Three wives. And William, the only one without a living mother. Their gazes met, tension thickening the air between them.

"Now that everyone is here, take your seats," Sigmund's deep voice cut through the silence, bringing the air of authority only a ruler could wield.

Without a word, the gathered family members obeyed. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

"Krefeld has rebelled," Sigmund announced.

Murmurs of disbelief filled the room.

"Krefeld? The strongest faction in the East?"

"The very same," the Duke confirmed. "They hold the most powerful military among the vassal states."

William's hands clenched into fists.

Krefeld's Rebellion.

It wasn't the full collapse of the Empire, not yet, but it was the first spark—the beginning of the end. The event that would cripple the Imperial Family had finally begun.

"The war has not started yet," Sigmund continued, "but it will soon. Krefeld has refused Imperial taxation and has issued a military draft."

A heavy silence followed.

"In other words, this is a declaration of war in all but name," someone muttered.

Jordi leaned forward, his expression sharp.

"Krefeld is too powerful for the Imperial Family to handle alone. Father, I assume you will be leading the suppression force?"