Lian had put everything he had into that strike—his anger, his frustration, and his years of disappointment, all channeled into a single, desperate blow.

But the moment his fist connected with Alaric's face, the feeling he expected never came. Instead, it felt as though he had struck solid iron. A faint sound of metal reverberated through his hand, and the impact sent a sharp pain shooting up his arm. His fingers bent awkwardly, a painful reminder of his frailty.

A thin, blue veil shimmered around the spot where Lian's fist had landed, like a protective layer of energy. It was Alaric's aura, condensed on his skin. Lian recognized it immediately, his eyes widening in shock as he held his injured hand, pain coursing through his body. His fingers were bent and bruised, the bones creaking under the pressure of the failed strike.

Alaric's eyes narrowed, glaring at Lian from the corner of his gaze. There was a brief flash of surprise—Lian had pushed through the wind resistance and landed a hit, something Alaric hadn't anticipated. But any trace of admiration quickly dissolved into fury. The fact that Lian had dared to strike him, even with his lack of power, felt like an insult to Alaric's very name.

A fierce, vicious smile curled across Alaric's lips as he stared at Lian, who was grunting in pain, cradling his injured hand. "You have guts, I'll give you that," Alaric muttered darkly. His smile twisted into something more sinister as he flicked his hand casually in Lian's direction.

A sudden, more powerful gust of wind erupted from Alaric's gesture, far stronger than the resistance Lian had fought against earlier. The wind slammed into Lian, sending his body hurtling across the training ground. His chubby frame flew through the air, landing several meters away with a sickening thud.

The crowd gasped, shocked by the sudden escalation. The scene had shifted dramatically—what was supposed to be a sparring session had turned into a brutal display of power.

Elysia leapt to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest, her face pale with concern and anger. She stared at Lian, now crumpled on the ground, coughing up blood from the internal injuries caused by the violent gust of wind. Lady Mariana, too, watched with wide eyes, shocked and concerned by the intensity of the attack.

Alaric, however, showed no sign of remorse. He strode toward Lian, his steps deliberate, each one accompanied by the low hum of the wind swirling around him. Lian lay on the ground, gasping for air, blood staining the corner of his mouth. His body ached from the force of the blow, and he struggled to push himself up, his vision blurring from the pain.

As Alaric approached, his voice carried across the training ground, cold and mocking. "You piece of trash. You… bloated pig. How dare you even think of striking me across the face?" His words dripped with disdain, his tone seething with anger. "What gave you the audacity? Who gave you such boldness?"

The faint blue aura around Alaric began to swirl like a boiling mist, his spiritual energy radiating off him in waves. His killing intent was palpable, a fierce look of malice etched into his face as he glared down at Lian.

The pressure emanating from Alaric was overwhelming, even for the spectators. The air itself seemed to thicken with the weight of his power, and for a brief moment, it was clear to everyone present that Alaric had no intention of stopping. His fury wasn't just about Lian's defiance—it was about dominance. He intended to break Lian, to make an example of him in front of the entire crowd.

Lian, struggling to breathe and barely able to move, looked up with bloodshot eyes. The pain was immense, but surprisingly there was a flicker of defiance in his gaze.

Lian's gaze, despite his broken and battered state, was filled with something entirely unexpected—defiance. It didn't match the current situation, where any normal person would have been terrified or beaten into submission. Instead, there was something else lurking in his eyes, something that caught even Alaric off guard.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

As Alaric continued to walk toward Lian, his aura crushing down with overwhelming force, he couldn't shake the confusion building inside him. Lian wasn't looking at him with fear or submission; no, it was something far more unnerving. His gaze was fixed on empty air, as if he was staring at something invisible—like he had seen a ghost in broad daylight.

Alaric slowed his steps, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make sense of it. What was Lian looking at? The confusion on Alaric's face deepened when Lian's expression shifted again. Now, there was something even more unsettling—a look of excitement. Alaric's baffled gaze turned to one of disbelief. Lian's face, bloodied and bruised, suddenly contorted into a twisted grin, and without warning, he burst into a series of cracking, manic laughter.

The sound echoed through the training grounds, startling everyone, including Alaric. Lian's laughter was wild, vicious, almost unhinged. Alaric felt a shiver run down his spine, his body reacting involuntarily to the sheer unpredictability of it all. He couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation for Lian's sudden behavior, and that unnerved him more than he cared to admit. A sense of foreboding crept over him, one he couldn't quite place.

The crowd, too, was left bewildered by the scene unfolding before them. They mumbled among themselves, casting awkward glances toward each other, unsure of how to interpret the bizarre turn of events.

"What's happening? Why is that brat acting like this all of a sudden?"

"Did he hit his head too hard during Alaric's attack?"

"Definitely. Maybe he's… lost his mind!"

"Lord Alaric is too vicious, driving the boy into insanity with a mere flick of his sleeve."

"Insane! This is madness!"

"Being on Lord Alaric's bad side… It should be the last thing on anyone's mind!"

The murmurs grew louder, with the spectators both disturbed and fascinated by what they were witnessing. Lian's crazed laughter filled the air, a sound so out of place that it sent chills through the crowd.

Alaric, still standing a few feet away, clenched his fists. He didn't like this feeling. Lian's defiance, his laughter, and the strange energy surrounding him—it all felt wrong, as if something terrible was about to happen, and Alaric had lost control of the situation.

Alaric quickly regained his composure, forcing his emotions under control. His face hardened into a fierce, determined expression as he locked eyes with Lian. "I have to admit, you almost caught me with your little act," he sneered. "In fact, I should thank you for broadening my horizons on just how crazy someone can act when they're faced with certain defeat. Did you really think such a pitiful trick would stop my wrath?"

Alaric's laugh echoed through the arena, his incredulous gaze fixed on Lian. "Clever, but still, you're nothing but a fool. A swine. Nothing can prevent me from crushing you today."

Convinced that Lian's earlier display of defiance and laughter was nothing more than a desperate bluff, Alaric dismissed the foreboding feeling that had briefly gripped him. The laughter, the madness—it all seemed like the last resort of a scared, broken man. His confidence swelled as he reached down, grabbing Lian by his hair and yanking his head up so they were face-to-face. Alaric's vicious gaze bore into Lian, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Now, tell me," Alaric said, his voice low and threatening, "what's so funny that made you laugh like a madman? What's the joke?"

Despite the pain and the crushing force of Alaric's aura pressing down on him, Lian's expression didn't falter. He grinned, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. His blood-coated teeth flashed as he spoke, the words coming out with an unsettling excitement. "No, Alaric… I should be thanking you."

Alaric froze, momentarily taken aback. "What?" he demanded, his voice tense.

Lian's grin widened, and his voice, though weak, was filled with fervor. "It's all because of you… I've been enlightened. A god has granted me their power."

The arena fell silent. Alaric's grip on Lian's hair loosened for a split second as shock washed over him. For a moment, he was lost in disbelief. The words Lian had just spoken seemed impossible—ridiculous even. But then, an increadulous look flickered in Alaric's eyes, quickly turning into anger. 'Enlightened? Granted divine power?' It was absurd.

Alaric's sneer returned, this time more vicious. "You think I'll fall for another one of your tricks? Gaining the power of a god isn't something that happens just because you wish for it. You think 'now' of all times, you've been chosen? Don't be stupid."

Even the crowd murmured in disbelief. Some looked thoughtful, while others outright doubted the authenticity of Lian's claim. But Lian wasn't bluffing.

Unbeknownst to them, right before Lian's eyes, something extraordinary had happened. Just after Alaric had knocked him away with that powerful gust of wind, Lian had seen it—a projection, clear as day. It was something ethereal, almost like an illusion, yet as vivid as any reality.

It had appeared in front of him, a rectangular screen floating in midair, with a single word written on it:

[Activating.]

Lian's heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the mysterious projection. The words filled him with an overwhelming sense of excitement. 'Finally…' he thought. 'I've been chosen.'

But there was still one burning question: 'Which god has taken pity on me? Which deity decided to grant me their divine power?'

As Lian pondered this, the surge of emotions in him only grew stronger. The gods who had once ignored him, the ones he had resented, had finally noticed him. The bitterness he once harbored began to fade, replaced by anticipation. His life was about to change, and for the first time in years, he felt hope wash over him like a wave.

Just as he was lost in thought, a voice pierced through his mind, interrupting his stream of excitement. The voice was ancient, serene, and hauntingly familiar, as though it was speaking directly into his soul. It sent chills down his spine, almost causing him to jump.

"Old man… Heavens Devourer?"