The Golem Mage

Brandon's Turn

“Even though the Banquet is a serious event, I have no interest in working for someone like Alec who doesn’t take it seriously,” Agnes blurted out angrily, jabbing her finger toward Arthur, trying to remove herself from whatever trouble Arthur had just dug up.

However Arthur didn’t back down, snapping back with equal force.

“Ah, so the true colours of this unworthy person finally show, you claim you want to lead the Gordons Clan younger generation, but when pushed forward, you cower in fear and attack us instead. Nothing but excuses—pathetic!”

Agnes clenched her teeth, struggling to find a response that wouldn’t escalate the situation further, but she couldn’t come up with one Arthur had hit her with a low blow for all to see with that one sentence.

Overhearing their argument, a member of the Fridall Clan leaned toward a companion, discreetly pointing at Alec, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully in the back seat, while Bryan Lanzt used this infighting opportunity among the Gordons to quietly leave the battle stage.

The person being spoken to was clearly the younger generation leader of the Fridall Clan.

“That’s him, Bree,” the man whispered.

“That guy sleeping like he has no care in the world is the one the Blaze enforcer wants dead, the enforcer even promised to take full responsibility for whoever kills him, offering hefty rewards instead of punishment that should come.”

Though killing was f*******n at the Banquet, the fact that someone from the capital wanted Alec dead meant the rules could be bent. The Fridall Clan, after all, served as a vassal branch of the Ancient Blaze Clan in the capital, making it their duty to carry out any mission efficiently.

Bree frowned, worry flickering across his face.

“I fear the patriarch will suffer even more from such a task.”

His companion scoffed, smirking.

“You needn’t worry too much, the patriarch has been promised benefits that could help him advance to the Tier 7 mage realm if we succeed in eliminating Alec. It’s all Alec’s fault for being too impressive.”

With all this said Bree’s curiosity was piqued.

“I wonder why I’ve never heard of this guy before?” he asked.

“Well, you’ve been too focused on reaching the next rank to match that rival in the other city. You went into seclusion, remember? That’s why you don’t know him. He only rose to fame recently during a zombie test we didn’t participate in. That glory could’ve been ours,” the Fridall clansman explained.

“Remind me again why we weren’t involved?” Bree pressed.

Bree asked, prompting the man beside him to flush in embarrassment.

“We… were hesitant to join that assessment since you were still in seclusion. Most of the clan members decided against participating, which handed the opportunity to them instead,” the man explained, subtly twisting his words to make it seem as though the Gordons had stolen their glory—when in truth, they had simply been too afraid to face the zombies with Bree not available.

“Well, let’s just hope this Alec guy isn’t a disappointment,” Bree sighed.

—

“I will fight!”

“Hmm?”

Arthur’s eyes widened at the unexpected declaration. Brandon, usually the quiet one, had stepped forward to volunteer, even Agnes looked taken aback by his sudden boldness to fight after Arthur’s big words.

“Don’t even think of disgracing the Gordons Clan’s name on stage!” Agnes snapped, as she finally found the opportunity to speak back.

“You have no right to scold me, you coward,” Brandon shot back.

“If anyone’s disgracing the Gordons Clan, it’s you. You claim you want to rival Alec, but you don’t even dare step forward. Please—don’t make me laugh.”

The sharpness of his retort left Agnes momentarily speechless. Brandon was rarely this outspoken, and Arthur couldn’t help but grin, but the one still affected by it all was Agnes who hadn’t prepared for such words coming her way.

Arthur pumped his fist in excitement; as he knew Brandon had once been a lone wolf, but his time training under Alec had changed him, giving him both confidence and a tongue that cut like a blade.

Agnes, unwilling to escalate the matter, stepped down, Instead she aided the wounded Knight back to his seat and poured a healing elixir into his mouth to hasten his recovery.

Brandon rose from his seat with deliberate slowness, each step toward the stage heavy with purpose, his measured pace drawing growing anticipation from the crowd.

When he finally reached the center, his gaze swept across the audience, taking in each family seated in their designated spots.

“I welcome any challenger who dares to face Alec,” he declared. “Defeat me, and you earn the right to fight Arthur, Alec’s second general.”

He was clearly humouring Arthur’s earlier jest, a drunken remark from Alec himself, in which Alec had called Arthur and himself “generals,” then deemed Agnes “a commander at best,” and reserved the captain’s role for Knight, with the caveat that promotions would come only through strength.

Arthur carried these playful words into the banquet, and Brandon decided to join in.

After all, he had promised to follow Alec, someone who was not only the next patriarch but also incredibly powerful, and he treated him like a brother.

In the short time he had spent with Alec, Brandon had found a sense of belonging, making it easy for him to stand up for Alec whenever needed.

“Are there any cowards among you too afraid to face Alec?” Brandon asked coldly, letting his massive great sword drop onto the stage, causing the blade to slam into the floor with a deafening thud, startling everyone with its sheer weight.

They were stunned to realize Brandon had been carrying it on his back all this time without showing the slightest strain.

“Go and test him,” Bree urged the man beside him, prompting the latter to leap onto the stage.

“Who’s that? He’s got some sharp moves,” someone from the Lanzt family section asked aloud.

“Of course he does,” another replied.

“He’s from the Fridall Clan, famous for their fiery tempers—their innate element is fire. If I’m not mistaken, that’s Felix, the Violent Flame’s brother.”

Felix landed lightly on the stage, making Brandon’s heavy-handed entrance seem crude by comparison.

Bowing his head, he introduced himself.

“My name is Felix of the Fridall Clan, and I challenge you.”

“Challenge accepted,” Brandon said without pause, but Felix stood still, waiting for him to lift his sword.

“Oh, that? I won’t need it to deal with you,” Brandon said when he finally noticed the reason for Felix stalling.

“You… That’s it! You’re dead for und

erestimating a member of the Fridall Clan!” Felix roared, furious at the insult.