Neigh!
Damien moved forward, lost in thought. The weight of the past few hours pressed heavily on his mind, yet he maintained an impassive expression. Around him, guards ford a tight periter, their hands gripping weapons as they remained on high alert. The life-threatening ambush from earlier had shaken them to the core.
Just then, thudding hooves echoed in the distance. A lone rider approached, the figure seated atop the dark steed exuding quiet authority. As the horse slowed, the guards instinctively stepped aside, allowing him through without hesitation.
Damien didn't need to look to know who it was. From the corner of his eyes, he observed his elder brother—Devrok Harrier—his face set in a deep frown.
Feeling Damien's gaze, Devrok let out a heavy sigh and spoke in a low, asured tone.
"The attacker was a mber of the Bloodfang Gang..."
A sharp gasp rippled through the guards. A mont of silence followed, then a growing tension thickened the air.
"Bloodfang Gang..."
Damien's eyes flickered slightly, his mind piecing together the implications. The na alone was enough to send a chill down anyone's spine.
They weren't just bandits.
They were a plague—a ruthless organization that terrorized the region, preying on travelers, rchants, and villages alike. Robbery was the least of their cris. Murder, torture, and unspeakable atrocities were their true legacy.
But what concerned Damien was sothing else.
The Bloodfang Gang never left their own behind. The mont one of their mbers was killed, they would retaliate—rcilessly, completely, without exception.
It was no wonder the guards' faces paled. So of them even trembled, their hands visibly shaking as fear crept into their eyes.
Damien silently observed them, his expression unreadable.
So these were the kingdom's so-called elite guards?
His predecessor had been unfortunate enough to be struck by an arrow during an ambush. No wonder. With a security force this weak-willed, it was a miracle he had survived as long as he had.
A flicker of disappointnt crossed Damien's features before he shook his head slightly.
At that mont, Devrok—the well-built, battle-hardened young man—cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the creeping dread like a blade.
"Do not be afraid. Believe in yourselves, for you are the soldiers of the Valthorne Kingdom."
His words carried an unmistakable weight, a quiet strength that settled over the shaken guards.
Devrok's confidence was almost magnetic—a force that compelled others to listen.
Slowly, the atmosphere shifted. Fear gave way to determination. The guards straightened their postures, so clenching their fists as a glimr of defiance returned to their eyes.
"Those Bloodfang rats are nothing compared to us!" one of them muttered, nodding as if convincing himself.
Others followed, murmuring similar sentints.
Damien observed it all with mild interest.
"This guy is a natural-born leader..."
But then, his gaze locked onto Devrok's.
And for a brief mont—he saw it.
Beneath the calm facade, hidden beneath the strength he projected for his n, was a flicker of sothing else.
Numbness.
The situation was worse than he was letting on.
---
You might wonder—why, when the Valthorne Kingdom was at war, were its two princes traveling instead of leading armies?
The answer was simple.
The Awakening Ceremony.
When children of noble blood turned eighteen, they were granted the opportunity to awaken their talent—a defining mont that would determine their place in the world.
"Move faster! We have to reach sarith City before sunset!"
Devrok's command echoed through the caravan. Their destination was the only place nearby that housed the sacred formation needed for the awakening process.
Hours passed. Fortunately, the journey remained uneventful.
By the ti the Harrier brothers arrived, the square was already packed with people.
Not just Damien and Devrok—countless warriors of age had gathered, their faces filled with excitent, hope, and silent prayers.
Their futures would be decided today.
The energy in the air was almost tangible.
---
The sacred ground was an open space, vast yet solemn. A glowing formation sprawled across the stone floor, etched with intricate symbols pulsating with an ancient power.
A master from sarith City stood at its center, his presence exuding a quiet authority.
Devrok stepped forward first, tossing a pouch of gold toward the officials.
A mont later, the formation humd to life.
Suddenly, the air shifted. The symbols lit up, rising from the ground to form a radiant octagonal structure.
"Damien, you go first."
Devrok smiled, his voice steady—but Damien could hear the slight hesitation beneath it.
The reason was clear.
Every warrior had three attempts in their lifeti to awaken a talent.
And for Devrok, this would be his third and final chance.
If he went first and failed, it would kill the montum. So he took a step back, letting Damien go ahead.
Damien was about to nod when—a gentle hand grasped his own.
He turned slightly.
Niomi.
Her eyes, like glimring gemstones, t his. Though she said nothing, the silent encouragent in her gaze was clear:
"You can do this."
Under her watchful gaze, Damien stepped forward.
As he entered the formation's center, a strange warmth washed over him.
Power surged through every pore of his body, weaving into his very soul.
The light around him intensified.
Devrok and Niomi held their breath.
Then—
HUM!
The very fabric of space trembled. The air distorted as if reality itself was shifting, preparing to accommodate sothing far beyond the ordinary.
And then—
A voice. Soft. Ethereal. Absolute.
[Congratulations on awakening SSS-grade Talent – Acceleration.]
[Congratulations on awakening ???-grade Soul Weapon.]
Damien's eyes shook.
He froze.
His mind reeled, struggling to process what he was seeing.
The talent system was divided into five grades—D, C, B, A, and S.
Yet his screen displayed sothing that shouldn't exist.
SSS-grade?
And more importantly...
What the hell is a Soul Weapon?
Even his predecessor's mories held no knowledge of it.
Before he could react, a voice rang out from the sidelines.
Cold. Indifferent.
"No heavenly phenonon detected. Awakening failed."
The formation master's verdict was final.
The excited whispers in the crowd died.
Devrok's shoulders stiffened. For the first ti, his smile wavered.
Niomi let out a soft sigh but forced a warm smile in his direction.
But Damien?
He simply stood there.
Expressionless.
His gaze locked onto the blue screen only he could see.
He had awakened sothing impossible.
And yet—no one else knew.
Reviews
All reviews (0)