The Price of Inheritance

After the treatment concluded, Sir Kovan, the Old Steward, the court physician, and his apprentice all departed the room, leaving Igor to keep vigil alone by his brother Ryan’s bedside.

Gazing at Ryan’s bloodless, pallid face, Igor was swept by a maelstrom of emotions, resenting God for decreeing such a tragic fate for his brother, yet simultaneously grateful to God for presenting him with an opportunity—

The chance to inherit their father Černín’s title and lands.

Igor parted his lips, intending to whisper his innermost thoughts to his unconscious brother.

Yet, he instantly clamped them shut, tiptoeing silently behind the room’s door.

He eased open the wooden door, peeking his head through the narrow aperture.

Torches flickered on the walls of the darkened corridor, where a faint breeze drifted from one end to the other, causing the fluffy, orange-yellow flames to waver erratically.

“No one,” Igor murmured, gently closing the door and sliding the wooden bolt into place before resuming his seat by the bedside and pressing a kiss to Ryan’s forehead.

“Brother, I must thank you,” Igor whispered, lifting Ryan’s hand from beneath the woolen blanket and pressing it against his own cheek. “Thank you for willingly surrendering your life, for willingly relinquishing the inheritance of your title and lands to me.”

“Had you not been wounded by that arrow, I might have spent the remainder of my days in a monastery,” Igor mused, a deceptively innocent smile gracing his lips. “Though Uncle is Bishop Unichov, and I would undoubtedly lead a more comfortable life upon entering the monastery, still…”

“Still, Uncle has already transformed Unichov into an earthly paradise. What purpose would my presence serve there?”

“Jesus dedicated his entire life to spreading divine love. Among his disciples, some were crucified upside down, others flayed alive, all sacrificing their lives for boundless love, for the construction of an earthly kingdom of heaven.”

“But what about me? What of my own life?” A flicker of bewilderment crossed Igor’s eyes. “Am I truly destined to spend my entire existence in a monastery, perpetually secluded from the world?”

“No!” Igor declared, a resolute light gleaming in his eyes. “I shall transform Osbrück into a terrestrial heaven, a place where even the lowliest serf can laugh heartily within my domain.”

Igor tenderly caressed his brother’s face, his gaze filled with a feigned pity. “By then, all the inhabitants of Osbrück will be well-fed and warmly clothed. No longer will people starve, nor will young girls be drowned. Surely, brother, this is what you too would wish for…”

The dim light from the window enveloped Ryan’s face, transforming his once foolish and perverse features into an expression of serenity, dignity, and sanctity. His tightly closed eyes seemed to offer silent assent to his brother’s words.

“However… my dearest Ryan~” Igor’s expression twisted into a demonic sneer, his sallow, purplish lips cracking to reveal a gleam of white teeth. “If you don’t die, how could I ever obtain all of this?”

“Therefore…”

“Die, you wretch!”

Igor lunged forward, fiercely clamping his hands over Ryan’s mouth and nose, intent on suffocating him to death!

“Ugh!” Ryan’s eyes snapped open unexpectedly. In that instant, their murky depths cleared, becoming acutely aware.

Upon realizing his assailant was his own brother, Ryan’s gaze filled with utter disbelief.

The next moment, a savage glint flashed in Ryan’s eyes as he, too, extended his hands to grip Igor’s throat, his gaze emitting a silent, primal roar—

“Fratricidal beast! Die!!!”

Two large hands clamped down on Igor’s slender neck. The prominent metacarpals on the backs of those hands, the taut skin of the forearms revealing corded muscles, and the bulging sinews of the upper arms all attested to Ryan’s strength.

Ryan, indeed, was a warrior who had undergone over a decade of knightly training. Though he might be crude, reckless, and cowardly, he was at least well-nourished and physically robust.

Igor’s physique paled in comparison to Ryan’s. Even in Ryan’s current weakened state, within moments, Igor experienced a far more intense sensation of suffocation than his brother.

Igor’s face turned a furious crimson, and streaks of purple began to surface beneath his skin.

Conversely, Ryan’s face, obscured by the hands clamping his mouth and nose, remained unreadable. Yet, his bloodshot eyes, dilated from oxygen deprivation, still burned with savage ferocity.

The outcome was now starkly clear.

“Thud!” Igor collapsed heavily, froth bubbling from his lips, his eyes rolling back to expose wide expanses of white.

“Cough, cough! That beast!” Ryan rasped, withdrawing his hands weakly.

Ryan had already realized this room was not his antechamber in the Osbrück manor. He pushed himself up, propping his upper body, and surveyed his surroundings. “Where is this?”

It was a stone chamber, with a vertical slit serving as a window. A dim white light filtered in from outside, forming a long streak that stretched from beneath his armpit, where the woolen blanket covered him, extending up the stone wall and finally adhering to the ceiling.

A faint halo of light then diffused outwards from the streak, transforming the room from utter darkness into a somber, muted hue.

“Why haven’t I returned to the man—ugh!” A searing pain radiated from his armpit, instantly paralyzing half of Ryan’s body.

His hands, devoid of strength, failed to support him, and he collapsed back onto the bed. “Damn it!”

Ryan suddenly recalled that he had been ambushed by a treacherous archer during his tactical retreat, and then subjected to crude treatment by that noblewoman.

Using his other, still functional hand, he peeled back the woolen blanket, shifting his body to expose the wound beneath the stripe of light.

“Damn her! That vile woman has worsened my injury!” Ryan’s heart lurched at the sight of the wound, and he couldn’t help but curse vehemently.

The festering arrow wound had swollen to the size of a fist, covered with a layer of putrid filth. The abscess was inflamed and distended, concealing a vast reservoir of pus beneath its surface. This volcanic pustule seemed poised to erupt at any moment!

A chilling premonition of impending demise filled Ryan’s heart. He tremblingly extended a finger, slowly reaching towards the enormous pustule.

His heart pounded furiously, blood surging through his veins. Just as the tip of his finger was about to make contact with the abscess—

“Pfft!” The abscess burst forth directly, a crimson-and-yellow spray of pus and blood erupting like a geyser, splattering against the wall to form a grotesque, yet striking, red flower.

“Merciful Lord…” The visual field before Ryan rapidly dissolved into fewer pixels, all sights blurring into scattered halos of light.

“Igor, you must live…” In his final moments, as death’s cold embrace drew near, Ryan regretted having choked his brother. If both of them were to perish, their father would be left in the awkward position of having no heir.

The Osbrück family would face only one outcome—extinction, then utter disappearance!

Ryan’s pupils gradually lost their luster, and in his fading consciousness, he seemed to perceive a grim reaper cloaked in black, wielding a massive scythe.

The grim reaper raised its scythe high, its blade glinting with a chilling light.

Just as the grim reaper prepared to swing its scythe and claim Ryan’s soul, a portal of light materialized, showering sacred feathers, and a breathtakingly beautiful, divine angel burst forth with a flying kick!

The skeletal grim reaper, still clutching its massive scythe, was sent crashing against the wall, its bones scattering across the floor.

“Go back to your Greece! This is a follower of Jehovah, this is Jehovah’s earthly divine kingdom!” The exquisitely beautiful angel, with twin wings sprouting from its back, shed sacred feathers with each beat of its pinions.

The skeletal grim reaper’s two unbroken leg bones rose, and the scattered bones on the ground meticulously arranged themselves into a long queue, leaping up one by one, quickly reassembling into a humanoid skeleton once more.

The skeletal grim reaper retrieved its fallen scythe, and a surge of black mist enveloped its form before it descended step by step beneath the earth, as if walking down an unseen staircase, vanishing from sight.

The exquisitely beautiful angel watched the grim reaper’s retreat, its golden eyelashes fluttering, before its golden eyes turned once more to the deceased on the bed.

With a mere flick of its pristine white finger, Ryan’s soul sat upright from the bed.

“Come, ascend with me to Heaven!” The exquisitely beautiful angel summoned several clouds from the horizon, and with a display of divine power, they formed a long ladder, its steps ascending directly upwards.

The Gates of Heaven, guarded by white stone columns forming an archway at the apex of the firmament, now stood wide open, as a chubby cherub played a sacred melody on a golden instrument.

“Y-yes… I… must… go…” The soul’s expression remained vacant as it ascended the white steps amidst the enchanting strains.

The instant its foot touched the cloud steps, “Boom—!” a fierce gale erupted, scattering everything.

There was no grim reaper, no angel—only a ashen-faced man lying on the bed.

The man was devoid of breath, his chest unmoving, leaving only a gradually stiffening, soulless husk.

Ah~~~ Ryan was dead!

“Ugh—!” The man on the floor stirred awake, his rolled-back eyes returning to their normal position as he lifted a hand to wipe away the foam at the corners of his mouth.

Perhaps Ryan’s final wish had indeed come true, for Igor, after being released from the strangling grip, unexpectedly revived within minutes.

“Brother, I was wrong!” The moment Igor regained consciousness, he clutched his head, crouched down, squeezed his eyes shut, and profusely apologized.

Yet, Ryan offered no response, and Igor sensed something amiss.

He cautiously opened one eye, sneaking a peek at the bed, his voice laced with uncertainty. “Brother?”

“Brother?” Igor called out again, his tone still wavering, but Ryan remained perfectly still on the bed, as if merely asleep.

“Bro? You w-wretch? Little bastard? Idiot!” Igor tried several more probing epithets, yet Ryan on the bed remained utterly placid.

“Ha… ha…” Igor tumbled onto the floor, cold sweat trickling down his brow. He gasped for breath, yet laughed, a profound sense of having narrowly escaped death washing over him.

“I—I’ve survived! Osbrück is mine!” Igor clenched his fists tightly, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

His mind, traversing time and space, returned to the lavender garden of the manor’s wooden house, where a little girl, as adorable as an angel, danced amidst the purple blooms.

“Little Yisi, I’ve avenged you…” Tears traced paths down his cheeks, falling onto his collar to form damp stains.

“Knock, knock!” A rap at the door outside the room abruptly yanked Igor from his reverie.

The little girl dancing among the purple flowers instantly transformed into a skeletal corpse beneath a cross, as if his sister had died once more.

“Who!!!” Igor snarled at the door, his face contorted in a grimace. He was now consumed by both fury and terror.

The person outside seemed startled, for a timid whimper preceded a hesitant voice. “W-w-well, my lord, Sir Kovan requests your presence at the evening banquet…”

Igor glanced at his brother’s body on the bed, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes.

He took a deep breath to compose himself, then asked, “Now?”

“I-if you require it, I can t-take you there immediately, my lord.”

The maid outside sounded anxious and frightened, believing she had angered the nobleman.

“Inform me when the banquet is about to commence!”

“A-as you wish, my l-lord.” The sound of footsteps retreating from the door indicated the maid had likely departed.

“Hmph—” Igor exhaled slowly, then looked at his brother’s body. “Let’s check if there are any bruises left…”