Alaric's gaze locked onto Lian's, a predatory glint hidden beneath the feigned warmth of his eyes. "I've been thinking," he continued, his voice steady, yet laced with quiet arrogance. "It's only right for us to see where we all stand. As future allies and family, we should test our strengths."

Lian's heart sank as he realized where this was headed.

Alaric's smile widened, as if sensing the shift in Lian's demeanor. "What better way to do that than a spar? A friendly one, of course." His voice lowered slightly, enough for only Lian and those close by to hear. "After all, I wouldn't want to overwhelm you."

The challenge was clear, thinly veiled beneath a cloak of civility. Lian's fists clenched involuntarily at his sides. He couldn't back down—not in front of Alaric, not in front of everyone here.

"Well, the reason I suggested this spar is for your own good," Alaric said, raising his finger and twirling it in the air. As he did, a small gust of wind converged at the tip of his finger. Almost instantly, a faint surge of spiritual energy filled the room. Though the pressure was strong, it was controlled, barely brushing against the people seated in the hall. At the tip of Alaric's finger, a small ball of wind condensed, swirling softly.

Seeing this, Alaric smiled smugly. "This is because I've recently gained enlightenment. I have obtained Azebok's power."

Lian's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Azebok was the god of soaring winds, one of the most revered deities worshipped in the Lands, and one of the gods represented by the three pillars. Those pillars held the divine will of the gods, and Lian had sought enlightenment from them countless times, only to be met with silence. To see Alaric—someone his age—having gained the very power that had eluded him for so long, stirred a whirlwind of emotions in Lian.

A mixture of awe, jealousy, and frustration swelled within him. He stared, speechless, at the twirling wind on Alaric's fingertip, unable to reconcile the fact that this person had achieved something he had only dreamed of. The room fell into a stunned silence, with everyone except the Duchess visibly unsettled by the display of divine power.

Noticing the look in Lian's eyes, a smug expression crossed Alaric's face, though he kept it hidden behind his smile. With a calm, almost condescending tone, he spoke to Lian. "Lian, I don't want you to feel bad about not being able to achieve the powers you seek. It's not your fault. Gaining the power of a god is something tied to destiny—you can't force it. But, even so, a man must strive, even if it means defying the ways of the heavens."

Alaric continued, his voice carrying a false sense of encouragement. "That's why I admire your persistence, your refusal to give up. And it made me think—maybe that's why I suggested this spar. Maybe, just maybe, during our sparring session, you'll gain some inspiration, something that will broaden your horizon or ignite a spark within you. Who knows? This could be the fate you've been seeking to gain the power you've longed for."

His words were smooth and seemingly genuine, delivered with a tone that was almost awe-inspiring. Yet Lian, though wary of Alaric's true intentions, couldn't help but feel tempted by the offer. The lure of divine power was simply too strong to ignore.

Lian had always lived a peaceful, quiet life, trying his best to avoid conflict, even though he bore the scars of a dark past—losing his mother during childbirth and growing up without any spiritual abilities.

Despite the hardships, he had never let his circumstances harden his heart. He had constantly sought the gods' favor, trying to gain even a flicker of their power, but time and again, the pillars remained silent, the gods refusing to acknowledge him. And now, seeing Alaric blessed effortlessly by a god, irritation flared in him. Why had the gods ignored his pleas? What had he done wrong?

Feeling the frustration bubble inside, Lian gave a sharp nod.

"I accept the spar."

A smile spread across Alaric's face, just as he had expected. He knew that the display of his divine power would be too tempting for Lian to resist. His plan was unfolding perfectly.

Hearing Lian accept Alaric's offer, Elysia's face tensed with worry. She quickly spoke up, her voice tinged with concern. "Why did you accept his offer? Don't you think this is a bad idea? He's already condensed his aura... You know you're at a disadvantage."

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Lian glanced at her and gave a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Elysia. I know what I'm doing. This is an opportunity for me. Maybe this spar will help me gain something, even if it's just insight." His smile was meant to comfort her, but Elysia's eyes still held a deep weariness.

Seeing the tender, caring expression on Elysia's face as she warned Lian, Alaric's jealousy flared beneath his calm exterior. Elysia was, after all, his future wife, yet she had never shown him even a fraction of the concern she had for Lian. They were betrothed, and yet, she seemed almost indifferent to him, if not outright uncomfortable.

On many occasions, he had invited her to visit him at the royal palace in Ardenthall, only to be met with refusal each time. She avoided him, and it was clear she had little affection for him, despite their arranged marriage. But seeing her relationship with Lian, this 'nobody' who had no claim to her, stirred a deep sense of resentment within him. Lian, with no blood relation, no status, seemed to hold Elysia's affection in a way that Alaric never could. And that infuriated him.

Alaric had always been infatuated with Elysia from the moment he laid eyes on her. Her beauty, her regal air, and her soft voice captivated him. She was easily one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, and knowing she was betrothed to him only fueled his obsession. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never win her heart. She remained distant, almost cold.

That's when he devised his plan: if he could dominate Lian, who she clearly cared for, perhaps she would finally take notice of him. First, he would conquer Lian, make him fear and respect him. From there, he could slowly turn Elysia's attention toward him, using Lian as a tool to gain her favor. It was a strategy that suited his calculating nature.

After the discussions and formalities in the grand hall had ended, Lian, Elysia, Alaric, Duchess Elowen, and Lady Mariana made their way to the grand arena in Elandor. The grounds were vast, the place where warriors from the region trained, duelled and honed their skills.

Alaric chose one of the largest grounds, a vast area around 100 meters wide, elevated by stone pavements. Knights clad in silver armor, stood guard around the perimeter of the arena. Word of the spar had quickly spread, and before long, a large crowd began to gather, curious onlookers eager to witness the event.

Seeing the crowd gathered around the arena, Alaric's smile deepened. Everything was falling perfectly into place, just as he had planned.

While he had outwardly presented the sparring session as a way to help Lian gain enlightenment, the truth was far more sinister. Alaric's true goal was to humiliate Lian publicly, to crush his spirit and force him into submission. He wanted Lian to fear him, to the point where the mere mention of his name would make Lian tremble.

This was his method—to dominate Lian completely and ensure his control over him. The added benefit of showcasing his newfound divine power to the crowd was a step toward solidifying his reputation, spreading word of his abilities far and wide. His renown would grow, and so too would his prospects for admission into the Empire's royal cohort.

With a satisfied grin, Alaric turned to Lian and spoke, loud enough for the entire crowd to hear. "The sparring session will be a little different than you're used to. I know you haven't sparred with a warrior who possesses either aura or divine abilities before, so here's what we'll do. I'll create resistance using my wind power, and your task is to push through it. I want you to give it your all, use all your strength, and try to reach me. If you manage to land a blow, I'll consider it a success."

His voice was filled with false benevolence as he continued. "But remember, the main purpose of this spar is for your enlightenment. Don't focus solely on reaching me—immerse yourself in the wind, try to sense something, anything that might spark a revelation for you. I hope this will help you as much as it can."

The crowd murmured in astonishment at Alaric's words. Many whispered to each other, voices filled with admiration.

"Lord Alaric is so generous, trying to help Lian like this! Lian doesn't even deserve it!"

The murmurs were just what Alaric had hoped for, casting him in a light of benevolence while reinforcing Lian's perceived unworthiness.

Alaric twirled his fingers, and a gust of wind swirled around him. This time, the wind wasn't as contained as it had been earlier in the grand hall. It burst forth, forming a powerful wall of air that pushed toward Lian. The pressure of the wind was immense, causing Lian's hair to whip wildly as he felt the weight of the resistance bearing down on him.

Hearing the crowd's words only fueled the fire inside Lian. A surge of determination flashed in his eyes as he closed them for a brief moment, letting several thoughts race through his mind. When he opened them again, he was resolute. He was about 20 meters from Alaric, and he began to push forward, fighting against the wind with everything he had.

As the distance between them shortened, the pressure of the wind grew stronger, biting into Lian's skin like sharp, invisible blades. Each step was a battle, and the further he advanced, the more oppressive the force became. A mix of emotions churned within him—anger, frustration, and pure, undiluted rage. But more than anything, it was the feeling of being rejected by the gods that stung the most.

Lian couldn't understand why he had been deemed unworthy. The gods only granted power to those they saw as worthy investments—individuals who would increase their fame, reverence, and following through heroic deeds. By withholding their power from him, the gods were essentially saying he was worthless, that they had no faith in his future. This evaluation, first given by society when he couldn't sense spiritual energy, was devastating when it came from the gods themselves.

'But I don't care about the heavens' will,' Lian thought, anger flaring inside him. 'I'll defy even the heavens if I have to!'

Fueled by that burning determination, Lian charged forward, ignoring the biting wind that screamed against his body, almost tearing his skin. Each gust felt like a blow, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. The crowd gasped in surprise—no one had expected him to withstand the wind's force, much less keep moving toward Alaric.

Even Alaric's smug confidence faltered for a moment as Lian closed the distance. Alaric's eyes widened in disbelief as Lian, breathing heavily and with bloodshot eyes, drew nearer.

Lian was now just a few feet away. His mind and body strained under the weight of the wind, but he refused to give up. His eyes, burning with a mixture of rage and determination, locked onto Alaric. In those eyes, Alaric could see the raw intensity of someone who had nothing left to lose, someone whose very soul was set on defying the fate the Gods had chosen for him.

With a final surge of effort, Lian lowered his head and lunged forward, his hand raised above him. He closed the gap between them in an instant, and as Alaric stood frozen in shock, Lian's fist shot out, landing a solid blow directly across Alaric's face.

The entire crowd fell silent.