Kamul was in a terrible mood.
Kamul had once been full of confidence and hope for his life. As the count's second son, he excelled in character, learning, cultivation, and strength. He was an outstanding young noble.
Besides... as the second son, he had originally had no inheritance rights. Yet his older brother had turned out to be a useless, good-for-nothing waste. It was practically a blessing from the gods!
All along, Kamul had been full of confidence. The heir to the count's title would undoubtedly be him. It could not possibly be anyone else.
However...
"How is that possible? How could that bastard possess such talent?"
Kamul recalled what had happened at the training grounds that day. That swordsmanship, as beautiful as a dance and as elegant and magnificent as a musical composition, made him question his entire life.
"God! Why are you so unfair? I have worked so hard, trained so diligently for over a decade without change. Why can't I compare to that bastard after he merely slept once?"
With an angry roar, Kamul swept his hand across the table, knocking every teacup onto the floor and shattering them.
Even though those cups were expensive Eastern porcelain, Kamul did not care. He did not even have the mind to care.
"He woke up with that kind of skill? Bastard! Bastard! Damn bastard! Why was that talent given to that worthless bastard? Why wasn't it given to me?"
Kamul's eyes were bloodshot. Like a beast driven into a corner, he was frenzied and violent.
"No! I can't just sit here and wait to die! I have to fight back! The Antares family is mine! I can't let that bastard steal it from me!"
Gritting his teeth, Kamul's face twisted viciously. "So what if your swordsmanship is good? You