The third son of the Zulter family strode through the halls of his father's estate with an air of quiet confidence, his steps echoing with purpose. Accompanied by the butler, he made his way towards his father's chambers, his mind clear and focused despite the uncertainty that lay ahead.

As they approached the imposing doors that guarded his father's inner sanctum, the butler paused, turning to regard the third son with a mixture of respect and caution.

"Your presence is requested," the butler announced, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "Enter."

With a nod of acknowledgment, the third son pushed open the heavy doors, revealing the opulent chamber beyond. His gaze swept over the figures gathered within, taking note of the executives who stood in silent vigilance, their eyes watchful and alert.

But it was his father, seated upon a grand throne at the head of the room, who commanded his attention. The patriarch of the Zulter family exuded an aura of authority and power, his gaze sharp and penetrating as it settled upon his third son.

Without a word, the third son approached the throne, his expression impassive and unreadable. He had long grown accustomed to the disdainful gaze of his father, the silent dismissal that had followed him throughout his life. But today, he would not be ignored.

As he stood before the throne, the second wife, a woman of formidable stature and unyielding resolve, stepped forward to address him.

"Is it true?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Did you dare to lay hands on one of the servants?"

The third son's lips curled into a cold smile, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light as he met her gaze without flinching.

"He insulted me," he replied, his voice calm and measured. "I simply showed him the consequences of his actions."

The second wife recoiled at his words, her expression a mask of disbelief and outrage. But before she could respond, the third son turned his attention to his father, his gaze unwavering.

"You did not summon me to reprimand me for defending my honor," he stated, his voice ringing with authority. "What is the true purpose of this gathering?"

For a moment, his father remained silent, his expression inscrutable as he regarded his third son with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. But it was the second wife who spoke, her voice laced with venomous disdain.

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"You are a fool if you think you can defy your father's will," she spat, her eyes flashing with contempt. "You have brought shame upon this family with your reckless actions, and for what? To satisfy your own petty desires?"

The third son's smile widened at her words, a cold glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I care nothing for the opinions of those who cannot see beyond their own narrow-mindedness," he declared, his voice echoing with the authority of a king. "I answer only to myself and to the power that courses through my veins."

As the third son's words echoed through the chamber, the atmosphere grew tense, each person present acutely aware of the underlying tension. His declaration hung in the air like a challenge, daring anyone to question his authority.

One of the executives, known for his cunning and sharp tongue, stepped forward, his gaze unwavering as he addressed the third son.

"You may believe yourself to be above reproach, but you forget your place," the executive retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You are but a mere son of this house, and your arrogance will be your downfall."

The third son remained stoic, his expression unreadable as he regarded the executive with a cool detachment. He had long grown accustomed to the contemptuous remarks of those who underestimated him, and he had no intention of allowing their words to sway him.

"Perhaps you are mistaken," the third son replied calmly, his tone betraying none of the anger that simmered beneath the surface. "Or perhaps you simply lack the vision to see beyond your own prejudices."

The executive bristled at the third son's words, his face flushing with indignation. But before he could respond, a voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Enough," came the commanding voice of the patriarch, his tone brooking no argument. "We are gathered here today for a purpose, and it is not to squabble like children."

The executives fell silent at their father's admonition, their eyes downcast in deference to his authority. The patriarch turned his gaze to his third son, his expression inscrutable as he regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"You speak with confidence, boy," the patriarch said slowly, his voice measured. "But words alone are not enough to earn respect in this family."

The third son met his father's gaze without flinching, his eyes burning with a quiet intensity. He knew that actions spoke louder than words, and he was prepared to prove himself worthy of his father's recognition.

"Then perhaps it is time I showed you just what I am capable of," the third son replied, his voice low and determined.

The patriarch's smile widened, though it did not reach his eyes, as he regarded his son with a mixture of pride and caution.

"In three months' time, you will face a formidable opponent for your level," the patriarch said, his tone measured. "An orc of great strength and cunning. It will be a test of your abilities, a chance for you to prove yourself to the family."

The third son's response was immediate, his voice steady and unwavering as he met his father's gaze with a cool resolve.

"Is that all?" he asked, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "It sounds like an easy task for me."

With those words, the third son turned on his heel and strode from the chamber, leaving his father and the executives to ponder the significance of his confident declaration. For the third son of the Zulter family was not one to shy away from a challenge. He welcomed it with open arms, knowing that it was only through adversity that true strength was forged.