The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic
Chapter 227

The crowd fell into a hush as the curtains drew back. A low, solemn flute played in the background, echoing with a melancholic tune. The stage lights dimmed, bathing the platform in a muted glow. A backdrop of a regal stone castle painted in gray and blue hues stood behind a young boy clad in ornate noble clothing. His face was pale, troubled, and filled with the weight of invisible burdens.

The screen opened .

On the stage stood five individuals—three men and two women, dressed in symbolic, archaic robes and cloaks. The oldest male wore a silver crown made of branches, and one of the women knelt, pretending to sob while holding a bloodied prop blade.

"You…what did you give birth to?"

"A worthless fool with no talent….A boy like this shouldn't be alive."

"NOOO!Please my Lord, anything but that…Please let him alive…At the end he is your blood."The woman cried kneeling down.

"Useless..Useless..Totally useless like you."The man condemned the woman harshly while the woman shedding tears, apologized for being useless.

The scene struck the hearts of everyone.

Then the

narrator's deep voice filled the air.

It was the story of ages of ago

[Centuries ago, there was a boy…]

[Born to greatness—his father, the King's right hand.]

[Expectations towered over him like mountains, yet. The boy possessed no talent.

[None to meet the legacy that shadowed him. His father wanted to get rid of him but the mother begged for his life which led the Duke to spare him.]

After narration, the scene shifted.

On stage, the boy lifted a wooden training sword. He swung, clumsily. Laughter rang out from the other side as other young noble boys, actors in velvet and lace, rushed in, mimicking sneers and jeers.

"Can't even hold a blade? And you call yourself your father's son?"

"Why don't you polish our boots instead, runt?"

"You should know your place, you talentless prick."

They shoved him, and he fell to his knees, humiliated and shaking. As the lights faded briefly, the flute gave way to somber drums.

[To get rid of disgrace. He trained. He bled. But ridicule never left his side. Crushed by shame and failure, he ran… far from home.]

When the light returned, the scene had shifted. Trees now decorated the stage—an artificial forest where the boy, dressed in a worn cloak, stood beside a group of rough-looking men and women: mercenaries.

They laughed and drank around a campfire, clinking mugs.

"You've got guts, kid," said one, the burly leader of the group, slapping his back.

"Not skill, but guts count for something."

It was the first time the boy smiled.

But that moment of peace was short-lived.

A scream cut through the night air.

Red lightning flashed across the stage as smoke billowed from both sides. Dark-clad actors stormed in, portraying enemy soldiers. Chaos erupted. One by one, the mercenaries fell, cut down in stylized combat.

The leader—wounded, bloodied—threw himself in front of the boy, shielding him from an incoming strike.

"Live… damn you…" the man gasped before collapsing.

The boy, now bloodstained and trembling, fled into the smoke.

[Alone again. No friends, no place to call home.

Drowning in sorrow, he drank away the days.]

The stage changed to a rustic tavern. The boy, now visibly older, slumped over a wooden table with an empty mug in hand. He barely stirred when loud noises echoed from outside—then screams. The town was under attack.

Demonic figures with grotesque masks and long claws stormed the stage. Townsfolk actors ran, screamed, and fell one after another. Firelight flickered. The boy's wide, terrified eyes locked on the carnage—but instead of fighting, he ran again.

He ran across the stage, through backdrops of village after village—each engulfed in violence. The narration deepened.

[Wherever he ran, death followed.

In desperation, he turned to the only place he thought he could survive…The army.]

The boy donned a soldier's uniform next. On a grim battlefield set, chaos raged. He lay motionless among the dead, pretending to be one of them. He snuck food, stole rations, and evaded combat. He was a soldier not to fight but to survive.

And yet…

Amidst the battlefield, he tried to hide and fought his way to survive but Demons of fire attacked, burning down everything.

The fire encroached on the surrounding harvesting life of everyone around.

Amidst this, the boy lay broken while praying for goddess mercy from the bottom of his heart, and them…

The tide turned the day he met her.

A sudden gust of cold air swept the stage. A new character emerged—graceful and elegant, with shimmering white robes and a staff carved of ice. Her every step left Frost behind.

The Ice Fairy.

She glided across the battlefield, striking down enemies with shimmering spears of frozen magic. Just as a demon loomed behind the boy, she cast a spell. A sharp burst of light, a crystal-blue flash that hacked down the Demon after which she came towards the boy and cast spells, and he was saved.

....

Watching from the crowd, Kael's breath hitched.

Kael's breath caught.

The scene unfolding struck him not as random but as familiar.

Kael's heart pounded. A memory not his own, a flash of a burning palace, the sound of screaming, a hand extended in the firelight rushed into his mind.

The actors continued, but Kael wasn't listening anymore.

The emotions,the deja vu,swelled like a tidal wave.

His hands trembled.

Martina noticed his stillness and stepped closer. "Kael?" she whispered.

Kael looked at her as she asked,"Are you alright."

"Yeah..I was just shocked by the quality of the play."Kael lied and brushed her off.

"Ice Fairy…" he muttered, eyes frozen on the scene. Something in him stirred a grim, aching recognition.

'Why did the story sound similar to mine and Asana?'

The starting was damned similar but he dismissed it as this was quite common. He wasn't the only one who suffered child abuse. All those noble heirs born with no talent suffered like this.

There was nothing new until this twist.

'No…Maybe it's a coincidence…Let's calm down.'Kael patted himself to calm down his restless heart.

While he was lost in thought, the crowd cheered and among them.

"Does… Ice Fairies exist?" Sol whispered beside him, the awe in his tone unmasked.

"Not that we know," Adonis said, equally perplexed.

"Come on boys, it's just an act," Herion whispered, rolling her eyes.

"Idiots!They do exist."

"Huh!"The three looked at Linda with a questioning gaze.

Seeing Linda snorted,"Did you forget about summoner? Don't they summon spirits? The bigger spirits are often referred to as Fairies."

"Ooo.."

"Ssshh! Don't talk! Stop disturbing me!" hissed a man behind them, clearly enraptured.

Martina watched the stage with narrowed eyes but said nothing. Kael, meanwhile, couldn't tear his gaze away.