Baron Hamilton was still skeptical, but with witnesses and evidence both in hand, he had no choice but to deal with the matter impartially. He gave his illegitimate son, Gilbert, a severe scolding.
After that, the long-standing conflict between Renard and the illegitimate son could no longer be reconciled, and their feud gradually escalated.
In just two months, Gilbert was ambushed eight times and had laxatives slipped into his food twenty-four times. None of it managed to take his life, but it left him drained and jumpy, like a bird startled by the twang of a bowstring.
Anyone could guess who was behind it. If things continued this way, Gilbert might suffer a mental breakdown.
Baron Hamilton racked his brains to protect him. In the end, he decided to send the two of them to study at Constantinople Academy and Arthur Academy, respectively, so he wouldn't have to see either of them.
This made the difference in their treatment clear. No matter how rotten Renard was, he was still a legitimate member of the Duncan Family. No matter how perfectly Gilbert behaved, he was still an illegitimate son who could never be acknowledged openly.
Baron Hamilton's decision wounded Gilbert's fragile heart once again. He secretly swore that he would make Renard pay dearly for it.
After arriving at Arthur Academy, he studied extremely hard. He had only one goal: to grow stronger, then give Renard—and those clueless lackeys of his—a thorough beating.
In the blink of an eye, two years passed. When Gilbert heard that Renard had been sent back to Saint Brieuc Fortress like a dog, and that his abilities had barely improved, he quietly returned from the royal capital, filled with resentment.
On the way, he racked his brains over how to deal with Renard in the cruelest way. Should he humiliate him and crush him psychologically, or simply attack him and torment him physically?
Of course, he needed a legitimate excuse to do any of that, and manufacturing such excuses was what he did best.
What he never expected was that Renard would choose for him, giving him a perfectly valid reason to strike.
You want to be tormented physically? Fine. I'll grant your wish!
Gilbert immediately came up with a vicious plan. If he "accidentally" beat Renard to death, wouldn't he be the only possible heir?
Renard wasn't stupid. How could he fail to see what Gilbert was thinking?
Yet he wasn't afraid in the slightest. Fear and anger had filled his heart. He had inherited Scum Renard's memories, and the other man's greatest wish in life had been to get rid of the illegitimate son. But he had feared Baron Hamilton's authority and never dared to kill him.
Now Renard would do it for him, fulfilling the dying wish of this body.
In truth, Renard looked down on Scum Renard. Not because he had been too wicked or too rotten, but because he hadn't been wicked or rotten enough.
Renard couldn't understand how the other man could have swallowed his anger for so many years when faced with the person who had indirectly caused his mother's death.
As he thought, he picked up a longsword from the training rack and casually swung it a few times. Perhaps it was because of the system, or perhaps this body already had a foundation in martial arts, but he felt no awkwardness at all.
It was a practice sword, so its blade wasn't sharp. Even so, as he swung it with force, it made a faint whooshing sound. A blow from it would be enough to shatter bones.
After a moment to get used to it, Renard pointed the sword at Gilbert and smirked. "You're my first opponent, kid. Don't disappoint me."
At those words, Gilbert suddenly shivered. What did Renard mean by that?
His thoughts grew tangled. The man standing before him seemed less and less like the Renard he knew. He didn't attack right away. Instead, he took two steps back and studied him.
The Renard he remembered was arrogant, conceited, lecherous, cruel, sinister, and deceitful—in short, a spoiled young master who relied on his family's status to bully commoners.
Only today had he realized that another, unknown soul seemed to be hiding beneath that skin.
Renard's thoughts were just as tangled. He had already accepted the fact that he had transmigrated, and that he had become bound to some damn game system, but then another surprise had come along.
After he fused with Scum Renard's memories, the two different lives and conflicting ways of handling things had nearly driven him mad.
Fortunately, he had held on. Perhaps this was what people meant by merging memories—or perhaps their souls had merged.
Whatever the case, he still felt like the same gaming nerd, only now he had the memories of the owner of this body.
But when Selina said Gilbert's name, it was as if Scum Renard had come back to life. A flood of tangled emotions surged through him in an instant, as though the other man were fighting him for control of the body.
That terrified him, and when fear reached its limit, it turned to anger. He needed somewhere to vent it. If he didn't let it out, he would go completely mad. So he had found Gilbert.
Renard silently muttered to himself: Scum Renard, you're a failure, a scumbag in the eyes of the people, a coward who doesn't have the courage to face his enemies...
He tried to use those words to suppress his chaotic thoughts. Fortunately, it worked, and his emotions gradually began to settle.
His mind raced as he tried to figure out the reason for what was happening.
After thinking it over for a long time, he decided the problem was far too complicated and there was no way to make sense of it. It was beyond his understanding.
Just then, a clear notification chime interrupted his thoughts. "Host, don't fret. Scum Renard was struck by lightning and died long ago. You only fused with his memories. It feels as if you've lived through his life."
"Gilbert was Scum Renard's greatest rival. His biggest regret in life was failing to kill him. Since you've lived through his life, it's only natural that you'd express the same emotions..."
The voice in his mind left Renard frozen. After a long while, three words surfaced in his mind: A cheat?
"First, let me make this clear: I'm not some cheat. I'm an artifact from a God-level Civilization."
"A God-level Civilization?"
"That's right. You may have heard the saying, 'The end of science is theology.'"
The notification chime kept sounding, but Renard remained utterly bewildered. The system's explanations were full of concepts he found hard to understand.
Perhaps it sensed how slow he was on the uptake. Finally, the system said impatiently, "It's hard to communicate with a low-level civilization creature like you. Just know that I'm incredibly powerful. You can learn the rest later."
Had it just insulted him? Even though he still had no idea what the thing was, the problem that had been troubling Renard was now resolved.
His tangled emotions vanished at once, and his mind felt exceptionally clear. He couldn't help laughing as he raised his sword and charged at the bewildered Gilbert.
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