Damien’s lips curled slightly, a smirk cutting across his face like a blade through silk.
"Interesting..." he murmured under his breath, just loud enough for those closest to catch the hint of dangerous amusent.
So, she had powerful blood. A family older than kingdoms. A legacy shaped by war.
But if she truly believed that ant sothing to him—that her na alone could protect her from the consequences of her words and actions—then she was in for a brutal awakening.
Damien had already buried greater nas than hers.
And if need be...
He would bury one more.
guro Rosewood.
The na now whispered through the crowd like a forbidden incantation. Reverent. Fearful. Heavy.
She was not just any noble. She was the only daughter of the current head of the Rosewood family—a man whose influence ran deeper than most kingdoms—and one of only two Supre Generals in the Blue Hamr military. The other was none other than the king himself.
From birth, guro had known luxury in its purest form. Love, affection, power, prestige—what the kings of lesser nations dread of, she had always known as her baseline. Treasures that started wars elsewhere were re heirlooms in her drawers.
But opulence had co at a price.
The cold detachnt she developed—the aloof arrogance birthed by always having her way—had long been a source of concern for her father. He wanted more than a cold strategist. He wanted a leader with depth, with flexibility. So, against the grain of her glittering destiny, he sent her away. Sent her to train under Carl Luxei—his trusted friend and a loyal blade of the Blue Hamr Kingdom.
And now, Carl lay dead at her feet.
The crowd’s reaction fed the old pride in her heart. She had hidden her lineage long enough. Now that it had been revealed, she felt her old aura return—her rightful place as a queen among mortals. A phantom smile tugged at the corners of her lips, unable to be fully suppressed.
"Now let see it," she thought, eyes flashing as she slowly turned toward Damien. "The fear in your face. The trembling realization of who I truly am."
But what she t instead was a gaze carved from stone—cold, unshaken, and cruel. Damien’s eyes were the sa as before. Unmoved.
As if the na Rosewood ant nothing to him.
A chill slithered down her spine.
She didn’t realize it yet, but to Damien, even if she were the only daughter of the Supre King of Heaven, it wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Her title ant nothing to a man who had buried glory beneath blood.
Then ca the voice—low, calm, rciless.
"Enough of this clownery. Now just rest in peace."
Bang!
A shot thundered through the air. A piercing sound that had silenced many before.
Epoch Breaker had fired.
The Iron Dungeon Stronghold’s leader, who had only monts ago been grappling with the truth of guro’s identity, felt his blood run cold. Ti seed to freeze.
"Stop!" he shouted, his voice desperate, hoarse. But it was already too late.
He knew the weight behind that last na. Knew what her death would an. If the daughter of that man died here...
His thoughts spiraled as the air trembled.
But then sothing impossible happened.
The unthinkable.
For the first ti ever, Epoch Breaker missed.
guro stood untouched.
A soft, thin mbrane of radiant golden light shimred around her—delicate like silk, invincible like steel. The shot had simply dissolved against it, as though the laws of destruction had bowed to its presence.
Even Damien’s eyes narrowed—not from fear, but interest. He hadn’t anticipated this, but he didn’t flinch. Surprise flickered across his face for just an instant before vanishing like a ghost.
Then the murmurs started again.
This ti, louder. Frenzied.
"Is that...?"
"Golden Seraph Embrace!"
"The protective treasure of the Rosewood family! I’ve only read about it in scrolls!"
"That’s a Rank 3 treasure!"
Those final words struck like lightning.
Even Damien couldn’t help but feel stirred.
A Rank 3 treasure.
In a world where Rank 2 treasures were already considered sacred relics, a Rank 3 item was a legend made manifest. Tools used by the near-mythical Channel Forging warriors—figures of lore and legacy who stood at the apex of mortal strength.
Finding such an item in this region was like trying to pull starlight from a well.
And she had one guarding her flesh.
No wonder Epoch Breaker—a divine weapon in its own right—had failed.
But Damien’s eyes sharpened with renewed resolve.
So what if the old trick didn’t work?
That just ant he needed a new one.
Because no matter how rare the treasure, or how golden the glow—it could still bleed.
Or so he thought.
Because in truth, Damien was still just a frog in the well, unaware of the vast sky above.
Had he ever truly witnessed a Channel Forging realm warrior in action...
Had he seen the way they bent the very laws of nature with a glance, shattered space with a wave, or crushed kingdoms beneath casual footsteps...
His thoughts would have been different.
There was a saying whispered across every sect, scroll, and battlefield of the cultivation world:
"Everyone below Channel Forging realm is but an ant."
To those exalted beings, even kings and generals were no different than dust on the wind.
And in the eyes of a true Channel Forging realm expert, every single soul present here—Damien, guro, the Iron Dungeon stronghold leader—was nothing but fleeting ash in the fire.
Yet ignorance, as always, was a dangerous form of courage.
A few ters away, the Iron Dungeon stronghold leader exhaled deeply. A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
"Thank God..." he murmured internally, a tremor still lingering in his chest.
If she had died...
He didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.
The re possibility of it had shaken him. The fallout wouldn’t have been political—it would have been apocalyptic. The Rosewood family wouldn’t ask questions. They would raze cities, break alliances, and salt the earth until every trace of their daughter’s killer vanished in fire and steel.
Even with her aloof attitude, even if her actions had been reckless... guro Rosewood was still that man’s daughter.
And that ant her life was not sothing mortals could gamble with.
Not even prodigies like Damien.
Not unless they were ready to face the wrath of a walking god.
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