"Shut up, kid. Haven't I told you before that no god will grant you divine power?" The Heaven Devourer's voice thundered inside Lian's mind, dripping with anger. "What's wrong with you? Why can't you believe the words of this venerable one? Do you dare doubt me, mistaking my greatness for some pathetic god's pity?"

Lian froze in shock, staring blankly at nothing.

"Old man… it's you?" he muttered under his breath, his mind racing. How was this possible? He had only ever been able to communicate with the massive eye of the Heaven Devourer in the dream space. Yet here was the same ancient voice, piercing directly into his thoughts while he was fully awake, in the real world.

As Lian's thoughts raced, the Heaven Devourer let out a sharp harrumph. "Kid, it's only been a moment since you left that place, and already you're in such a mess. You can't stay out of trouble, can you? You're about to get squashed to a pulp! Seems you're always needing this venerable one's intervention," the voice continued, full of pride and exasperation.

'When have you ever helped…'

Lian frowned, recognizing the Heaven Devourer's characteristic arrogance. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture, especially not now. He was in the middle of being tortured by Alaric. The brief excitement of gaining some divine power had been swept away by the realization that the voice in his head wasn't from a god, but from the Heaven Devourer himself.

"Old man," Lian sighed in frustration, "I'm not in the best situation right now. Look, if you're not going to help, can you just stop talking? I'm about to be squashed by this guy over there!" His eyes darted to Alaric, who still had a vice-like grip on his hair.

A low chuckle echoed in his mind. "Kid, your ignorance knows no bounds. Do you think a mere ant like him could harm you without my permission?" The Heaven Devourer's voice was as proud as ever, filled with the weight of authority. The old entity spoke with such certainty that Lian nearly found himself believing it. Nearly.

Lian clicked his tongue in annoyance, not willing to believe the Heaven Devourer's grand claims. "You always talk big, old man," he muttered under his breath, causing the entity to chuckle again.

"Aiya, you really don't understand, do you? In the ancient era, gods themselves weren't privileged to see my glorious form, and here you are, doubting me. You should consider it a blessing to be crushed under my heel."

Alaric, noticing the distant, thoughtful look on Lian's face, felt a wave of fury rise in his chest.

'This piece of filth is ignoring me?' The very idea that Lian was focusing on something else, in the heat of Alaric's wrath, felt like a direct insult.

"Does he think I'm a joke?'

Without hesitation, Alaric slammed Lian's head into the ground with brutal force. Blood trickled from Lian's nose and mouth, the impact shaking his body, but his eyes remained fierce, filled with a burning hatred and desire for revenge.

Alaric lifted Lian's head again, staring into those venomous, bloodshot eyes. There was something in Lian's gaze that unsettled him, a resentment so deep it was as if Lian were a viper, waiting to strike back at the first opportunity.

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"Just you wait—"

"You piece of trash," Alaric hissed, cutting of Lian's words.

Before Alaric could finish his sentence, Lian's vision grew dark. His head hit the ground once more, and this time, his consciousness began to fade. But just as he was about to drift into unconsciousness, a streak of light flashed across the arena, and in the blink of an eye, a figure appeared.

A strong hand clasped onto Alaric's wrist, preventing him from delivering another blow to Lian. Alaric, stunned, turned to see an elderly man with long grey beards, seemingly in his seventies, standing before him. The old man's grip was firm, his expression calm but stern. Alaric's eyes widened in surprise.

'Who is this old fool?'

The old man's clothes were plain, blending in with the crowd, but something about his demeanor immediately marked him as different. He was no ordinary bystander. Alaric's anger flared.

'Some lowlife commoner dares to intervene?'

First, Lian had crossed him, and now this old man?

"You think you can stop me, old man?" Alaric sneered, attempting to pull his hand free. But to his shock, the old man's grip was like iron. No matter how much force Alaric exerted, the man's hand didn't budge.

Realization dawned on Alaric. 'This old man… he's no ordinary person.' He was clearly someone powerful, someone capable of matching, if not exceeding, Alaric's own strength.

"Boy," the old man said, his voice calm yet commanding, "I think this is enough, don't you?"

Alaric's eyes blazed with fury. "You think you can command me? Do you know who I am?" He was the son of the Duke of Ardenthall, the ruler of this land, and his pride would not allow him to be humiliated by some unknown old man.

The knights guarding the Duchess and Alaric had already taken notice of the situation. Seeing the old man holding Alaric's wrist, their auras flared up as they charged toward the stage.

"Release the young lord!" they shouted, their voices fierce as they rushed forward with killing intent, ready to defend their charge.

But as they approached, the old man stood his ground, a calm, placid smile on his face. He still held Alaric's wrist, unmoved by the approaching knights, as if their presence meant nothing to him.

As the knights were about to pounce on the old man, his aura flared up with a force so immense it felt like a massive tsunami crashing down on the arena. The knights' charging auras were immediately snuffed out, like flames doused by water. Shock spread across their faces as realization dawned on them.

"Intent!" they screamed, retreating instinctively from the overwhelming pressure.

Alaric's eyes widened in disbelief. He had already suspected that the old man wasn't ordinary—he couldn't shake the old man's grip earlier, despite his strength. But hearing the knights' exclamations confirmed his worst fears. This wasn't just any warrior. This was a man who had ascended beyond mere aura and could wield intent, a force far more potent. Alaric's thoughts raced. Who is this man? And why is he here, in a place like Elandor?

The level of power this old man displayed was exceedingly rare. In all of Ardenthall, only a few warriors had ever transformed their aura into intent, and the most notable of them was the Chief Commander of the Sigan Knights, a man who only took orders from Alaric's father, the Duke.

Before Alaric could process the situation further, Lady Mariana and Elysia rushed into the arena. Elysia immediately ran to Lian, kneeling beside him and carefully resting his head on her lap. Her face was pale with worry as she cried out, "Lian, talk to me! Are you alright?"

The old man, still holding Alaric at bay with ease, spoke calmly. "He's unconscious, but he'll be fine. The trauma to his head knocked him out, but nothing more serious."

Elysia exhaled in relief, though her face remained tense with concern.

Lady Mariana turned to the old man and addressed him gratefully. "Sir Eirik, thank you for stepping in when you did."

The old man, now identified as Sir Eirik, bowed slightly. "No need for thanks, my lady. I only did what I felt was right. Apologies for stepping in so abruptly."

"You did the right thing, Sir Eirik," Lady Mariana reassured him. "If you hadn't intervened, things could have turned out much worse."

Sir Eirik nodded in acknowledgment, but his eyes betrayed a quiet sigh, knowing the gravity of the situation that had almost spiraled out of control.

Duchess Elowen, who had arrived just behind Lady Mariana, stormed onto the stage and fixed Alaric with a fierce glare. "Did you really have to push things this far, Alaric?"

Alaric, clearly taken aback by how quickly the situation had shifted, looked helplessly at his mother. He was still processing the fact that an old man in a backwater town like Elandor had just easily overpowered him. The growing humiliation in his chest was making it hard for him to respond.

Meanwhile, Elysia couldn't contain her anger anymore. She glared at Alaric with pure hatred, her voice trembling as she held Lian's battered body in her arms. "You! What is wrong with you? Were you trying to kill him?"

Her words cut through the air, filled with raw emotion as she cradled Lian protectively, her eyes blazing with rage at Alaric.

Lady Mariana, now in control of the situation, quickly gave orders. "Prepare a chariot," she commanded, her voice steady despite the tension. Within minutes, a large, imposing chariot arrived, pulled by a massive black beast that resembled a lion with twin horns. The beast's powerful presence added to the urgency of the moment.

With great care, Lian was placed in the chariot. The majestic creature pulled them away, escorting him to the infirmary for urgent treatment. Lady Mariana watched as the chariot departed, with a mix of concern on her face.

Alaric stood in stunned silence, his mind still reeling.