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The Veton estate’s private study had always carried an air of cold, deliberate power — dark wood, imported stone, walls lined with framed commendations spanning four generations of S-rank and A-rank Hunters. Edward stood before his father’s desk once more, this time with considerably more at stake than a failed livestream.

"The Association has opened a formal financial inquiry," Damien Veton said, voice deceptively calm as he studied the official notice before him. "Into guild account transfers linked to an attempted assassination of a registered Hunter party. My name is not directly implicated. Yours, however—" He looked up, expression cold. "Your signature authorized the intermediary payment structure used to obscure the mercenary contract."

Edward’s jaw tightened. "I made certain there was no direct traceable link."

"Apparently not certain enough," Damien said flatly. "President Halden has personally assigned Association security to Fallen Crown’s household. That is not a man being cautious, Edward. That is a man building a case." He rose from his desk, moving to the window overlooking the estate’s manicured grounds. "You were meant to neutralize an embarrassment quietly. Instead, you’ve handed my former son and his collection of broken legends a legitimate grievance against this family, backed by evidence, in front of an Association president who was already inclined to favor them."

"Then let me handle it properly this time," Edward said, desperation creeping into his voice despite his best efforts to sound composed. "A formal challenge. Guild-sanctioned duel, broadcast publicly, no hidden sabotage, no plausible deniability required. I defeat him cleanly, in front of the entire Hunter community, and every rumor about his growth being some kind of miraculous anomaly dies the moment they watch me put him back in his proper place."

Damien studied his eldest son for a long moment, something calculating passing behind his cold eyes. "You believe you can still defeat him."

"I’m A-rank," Edward said, some of his old confidence resurfacing despite the humiliation of recent weeks. "He was F-rank two months ago. Even accounting for whatever anomaly is fueling his growth, the gap between A-rank and B-rank combat experience isn’t something that closes overnight."

"He closed the gap between F-rank and B-rank in three weeks," Damien pointed out coldly. "I would not be so quick to assume the gap between B-rank and A-rank represents any meaningful safety margin."

"Then what would you have me do instead?" Edward snapped, frustration finally cracking through his careful composure. "Do nothing? Let him continue rising unchallenged while the entire industry watches the Veton family’s own disowned failure outshine everything we’ve built?"

Damien’s expression remained unreadable for a long moment before he finally responded, voice quiet and dangerously deliberate. "A formal duel," he said slowly, "conducted properly, through legitimate guild channels, carries considerably less risk to this family’s reputation than continued covert sabotage that keeps failing publicly." His gaze sharpened. "If you intend to challenge him, Edward, you will do so with full transparency, full Association oversight, and you will not lose. Am I understood?"

"Understood," Edward said, some of his earlier confidence returning now that his father had, however grudgingly, sanctioned the approach.

"Do not disappoint me again," Damien added, cold and final. "I have very little patience remaining for further embarrassment."

---

The formal challenge arrived at the Hegeville house two days later, delivered through official Association channels with none of the ambiguity of previous confrontations — a public, guild-sanctioned duel, scheduled for one week’s time, broadcast live to the entire Hunter community, terms strictly regulated by Association oversight to prevent any repeat of previous sabotage attempts.

Myria read the challenge terms twice, sharp eyes narrowing with careful calculation. "This is different from before," she said finally. "No hidden traps, no manipulated dungeon classifications. Just a straightforward duel, fully regulated."

"Which means he’s either supremely confident, or supremely desperate," Vivian observed, head tilted thoughtfully. "Possibly both."

"Can you win?" Irene asked bluntly, crimson eyes fixed on Allen with unusual seriousness.

Allen considered the question carefully, weighing his current strength against everything he knew about Edward’s reputation — flashy, enhanced strength, considerable A-rank combat experience, but also, by every account Allen had gathered, more style than genuine substance.

"I don’t know yet," he admitted honestly. "But I intend to find out properly, rather than assuming either way."

Everlyn’s notepad appeared quickly, her expression firm and determined as she held it up.

’Then we train harder. One week isn’t much time, but it’s enough if we use it properly.’

Myria nodded firmly, already pulling up strategic notes on her tablet, sharp focus replacing her earlier concern. "Guardian’s Instinct, Precision Throw, your new fire affinity — we build a strategy specifically designed to exploit Edward’s known combat patterns. He relies heavily on enhanced physical strength and flashy, crowd-pleasing techniques. That predictability is exploitable."

"One week," Vivian said, cracking her knuckles with anticipatory intensity. "I intend to make every single hour of it count."

Allen glanced around at all four of them — Myria’s sharp strategic focus, Irene’s fierce protective determination, Everlyn’s quiet, steady resolve, Vivian’s eager readiness — and felt something solid and certain settle into place despite the daunting nature of what lay ahead.

’One week to prepare for a fight that could reshape how this entire industry sees us,’ he thought grimly. ’No pressure at all.’

"Then let’s get started," he said aloud, and behind him, all four of his wives moved into motion with the practiced, unified purpose of a team that had spent two months learning exactly how to fight for each other, and for themselves.