Thaddeus left the study room and made his way to the shining marble corridors.
It was a vast stretch of marble and gold where light spilled through towering windows in long, sharp beams.
The air always felt colder and heavier, as if the weight of the family's history pressed down from the portraits lining the walls.
Halfway through along its gleaming sight...
Thaddeus encountered his three siblings, walking and talking together, their voices low in casual conversation that echoed softly through the hall.
The siblings wore uniforms that were a masterwork of deep crimson, black, and gold, tailored to perfection with high collars, fitted sleeves, and subtle embroidery of the Ashbourne crest that marked them as heirs to power.
The three had just returned from their own tutors.
The polished floor mirrored their steps, each movement poised and deliberate...
The first to notice him was his sister, Senna Ashbourne. Her long, deep-violet hair spilled neatly down her back, a few loose locks framing her pretty face.
She carried a delicate hourglass frame, her curves accentuated subtly even by the structured lines of the Ashbourne uniform.
The golden trim of her uniform seemed to draw out the faint, invisible pull of her S‑rank Sigil "Gravity Manipulation", and her violet eyes lingered on Thaddeus with a calm measuring gaze that made the space between them feel heavier.
A faint curve touched her lips, though it was hard to tell if it was amusement or disdain.
Her brothers, Ark Ashbourne and Kledon Ashbourne, followed her gaze a moment later, their conversation fading into silence as all three turned their attention toward him.
Ark had an athletic build. His medium-length white hair was slightly tousled, framing a face marked by a perpetual, confident smirk.
The tailored Ashbourne uniform fit him snugly, its golden threaded seams catching the light whenever he shifted.
His A‑rank Sigil "Star Drive" is located at his forearm and hints at a silver lining design in an intricate pattern of interlocking silver lines, shaped like a spiral galaxy with faint rays branching outward.
Kledon stood tall with a broad shoulder frame. His short, neatly combed crimson hair gleamed under the hall's light, matching the deep red of the Ashbourne uniform he wore.
The black and gold trim clung perfectly to his muscular build, the high collar framing a face carved with sharp and symmetrical features.
His S‑rank Sigil "Ignition Burst" glowed subtly, its jagged, flame-shaped markings with ember circles seeming to pulse with heat.
[ Ark ]: "Look who we have here~"
Ark chuckled, his voice carrying a lazy mockery as he looked down at Thaddeus. The smirk on his face deepened into a faint sneer.
[ Kledon ]: "Tsk… this bad blood, what a disgrace to my sight."
Kledon's lips curled into a cold smirk as his eyes narrowed with a mix of disdain and faint amusement as he folded his arms.
Thaddeus met their gazes in silence as he glared back at them before letting out a slow, measured sigh.
[ Senna ]: "What are you looking at! You pathetic bad blood! Do you wanna die?!!"
Her sharp spoiled brat voice cut through the hall, her violet eyes narrowing in disgust, followed by a sneer.
Thaddeus ignored them and simply turned away, his gaze shifting toward a side passage that would take him out of the hall.
But before he could take a few steps, Senna raised her hand. Her Sigil glowed...
Then suddenly, a crushing gravitational force slammed down on Thaddeus in an instant. The marble beneath his feet cracked like brittle ice, thin lines spider‑webbing outward from where he stood.
The air rushed from his lungs as his knees buckled, his whole body slammed toward the floor, powerless.
Thaddeus let out a groan, his palms pressing against the cold marble stone as the pressure crushed into his shoulders and spine, his muscles straining just to keep up with the force.
The siblings laughed at the powerless sight of Thaddeus as he struggled with every second...
.....
.....
.....
"卄ㄖ山 ㄥㄖ几Ꮆ 山丨ㄥㄥ ㄚㄖㄩ 乇几ᗪㄩ尺乇 ㄒ卄丨丂 卄ㄩ爪丨ㄥ丨卂ㄒ丨ㄖ几?" [1].....
.....
.....
"ㄚㄖㄩ 千ㄖ尺Ꮆ丨ᐯ乇, ㄒ卄乇ㄚ 千ㄖ尺丂卂Ҝ乇 爪乇尺匚ㄚ." [2]
.....
.....
.....
Suddenly, the crushing force vanished, leaving the air feeling light once more...
The siblings turned away, their footsteps echoing down the hall as they walked away, snickering.
Thaddeus pushed himself up with his trembling arms, spitting a thin trail of blood onto the cracked marble floor before slowly rising to his feet.
[ Thaddeus ]: "That cringey ass voice again... Tsk... Maybe I'm going crazy—"
He muttered, wiping the blood away from his lips as he started limping.
Every step sent a dull throb up his leg, but he kept moving, his mind already elsewhere.
He knew better than to waste energy trading words with them; words meant nothing in the Ashbourne estate unless they were backed by power.
And power… he didn't have enough yet.
.....
———— [ Time passes ] ————
Thaddeus spent the next two days confined to his room, the lingering ache in his ribs and shoulders forcing him to move with care.
His room was part of an old, worn guest house that sat on the far edge of the Ashbourne estate...
Too far from the main mansion to feel like home, yet close enough to be under its shadow. The walls were faded and uneven, the paint long since dulled, turned into a tired gray.
A single wooden desk and a narrow bed can be seen, their edges torn and repaired by Thaddeus with tape and nails embedded.
And against one wall stood a tall, overstuffed wooden bookshelf, crammed with martial manuals and worn training journals, the manuals faded from years of thumbing through.
A sagging couch sat by the foot of the bed, its fabric frayed but still serviceable.
There are also small wooden mini‑figures carefully carved by Thaddeus himself.
Through the wide window, he could see the estate's sprawling yard, its grass trimmed to perfection under the watchful eyes of the maids.
His desk was buried under worn martial manuals, their pages marked with notes and diagrams he had painstakingly copied. Between slow, deliberate stretches to keep his body from stiffening, he traced each movement described in the texts, committing them to his memory.
But Thaddeus couldn't help but get disappointed while reading...
[ Thaddeus ]: "What's the use of these martial manuals anyway if I can't even survive a single gravity spell..."
He muttered in a low tone, the words he said clanged to the quiet room like a bitter truth he didn't want to admit.
[ Thaddeus ]: "Like it matters anymore anyway... Welp, I guess I'm finally recovered."
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders until the stiffness faded...
The gauze bandages peeked out from beneath his shirt as he stretched, wrapping snugly around his toned chest and defined abs.
[ Thaddeus ]: "Time to earn money since I'm running short lately."
Thaddeus packed up and went outside.
—— [ Time passes ] —— [ Location : Illegal Underground Betting Arena ]
The air in the underground arena was heavy with sweat and dust, the roar of the crowd could be heard rumbling through the walls.
Overhead, a ring of flickering lights bathed the pit in a harsh glow, throwing long, jagged shadows across the worn stone.
The announcer's voice boomed over the noise, each word sparking another wave of cheers and shouts from the packed stands.
From one gate, a massive man emerged... A huge, muscular, bald guy with an imperial mustache, his stature as broad as a wall, and carrying the heavy swagger of someone with a C‑rank physical Sigil. The host's voice rang out over the roar:
[ Announcer ]: "In today's arena battle, it's the rematch you've all been waiting for! Facing off once again—our reigning powerhouse, The Iron Mauler, Korr Bragg—against the relentless, The Murim Cultivator!!!"
[ Announcer ]: "Let us welcome the newly undisputed king! With a whopping ninety-two wins… Eleven losses… The goliath! The Iron Mauler— Korr Braggggg!!!"
The crowd erupted, stamping their feet as the fighter raised his fists.
From the opposite gate, the lights dimmed for a breath before flaring back to full strength. A lone figure emerged, face hidden behind a black half‑mask, his dark, close‑fitting combat gear tracing the lines of a lean, battle‑hardened frame.
His steps were slow and deliberate, each one echoing against the stone, and his eyes cold and sharp, locked onto his opponent with the unblinking focus of a predator about to strike.
[ Announcer ]: "Now give it up for the one and only comeback king! One hundred seventy‑two wins… Ninety‑four losses… The crazed man who never gives up! The Relentless— The Murim Cultivatorrr!!!"
[ Secretly as Thaddeus Ashbourne ]
The crowd's roar shifted—some voices cheering, others booing—but every eye in the arena followed him as he strode toward the center.
The name "The Murim Cultivator" drew smirks from some and uneasy silence from others as well; it might have sounded strange or even laughable, but those who have seen him fight knew there was nothing funny about the way he dismantled his opponents.
The announcer's voice barely faded before the bell rang, sharp and metallic, cutting through the noise of the crowd.
Korr Bragg stomped forward first, the boards beneath the pit slightly cracking under his weight. His massive arms flexed, veins bulging, prepared to charge at Thaddeus.
Thaddeus didn't move right away. He tilted his head slightly, eyes tracking every shift in Korr's stance, every twitch of muscle, studying him like a scholar picking apart an opponent's flaws.
His hands came up into a loose guard, breathing steady, feet light and ready.
The crowd roared for blood.
Korr lunged, swinging a heavy right punch aimed at Thaddeus's head.
The blow came fast for a man his size, but Thaddeus slipped to the side in a single smooth step, his feet pivoting just enough to let the punch graze past.
Before Korr could recover, Thaddeus's fist shot forward like lightning, slamming into the bigger man's ribs with a sharp crack.
[ Thaddeus ]: "OH SHIT!"
Thaddeus muttered under his breath.
Korr grunted, the impact forcing him to take a step back because of the pain.
[ Korr ]: "What are you— Ahemm... Good hit young man! Now let's see you handle this!"
With a roar, his Sigil flared brighter. The bruised flesh along his ribs, dark from the blow Thaddeus had landed moments ago, began to ripple and shift.
The discoloration faded as torn muscle knit itself back together beneath his skin, leaving only unbroken flesh in its place.
The crowd roared at the sight of Korr's signature C-rank Sigil ability "Body Mending".
[ Thaddeus ]: "Don't get ahead of yourself, old man!"
Thaddeus exclaimed as they fought for fifteen grueling minutes, neither giving the other a moment's rest.
Fists, elbows, and low kicks cracked through the air, the sound of impact echoing against the stone walls.
Thaddeus slipped and weaved, letting most of Korr's heavy blows whistle past by inches. His counters were quick and precise, aimed to keep the crowd entertained without crossing the line.
But the Iron Mauler never slowed, his massive frame moving with surprising speed, forcing Thaddeus into constant motion.
Sweat rolled down Thaddeus's back beneath his mask, his breathing growing heavier. Each dodge was costing him energy, and every step back brought him closer to the pit's edge.
The tireless Mauler was living up to his name—sooner or later, he'd corner his prey.
[ Korr ]: "Time to end this! Prepare urself, young man!"
Korr finally slowed his advance, planting his feet in the dirt as if drawing a line neither would cross without consequence.
Across from him, Thaddeus straightened, wiping his sweat from his brow with the back of his glove. The two locked eyes through the heat and haze, the air between them thick with the promise of the end.
[ Announcer ]: "Here it is! The final strike! One hit to decide it all!"
The crowd erupted, the noise rising to a deafening roar. Stomps and chants rattled the very boards beneath their boots.
Korr's body flared with the glow of Body Mending, his already formidable frame tightening like coiled steel. His right fist clenched, the veins along his arm bulging as raw strength gathered.
Thaddeus shifted into a stance...
Thaddeus moved to counter, slipping his shoulder and driving his fist forward, but Korr's momentum was a runaway freight train.
The Iron Mauler had built too much speed from his charge; his punch slammed into Thaddeus's guard with bone‑rattling force, tearing through it and smashing into his chest.
The impact lifted Thaddeus clean off his feet, sending him crashing across the pit floor. Dust and dirt burst up around him as he rolled multiple times before crashing into a wall.
A thin line of blood slid from beneath his mask, dripping onto the ground.
The announcer's voice boomed over the chaos.
[ Announcer ]: "YOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! A CLEAN HIT!!! HIT!! A HIT!! THE MURIM CULTIVATOR IS DOWN! DOWN!! Korr Bragg, The Iron Mauler WON!!!!"
The crowd erupted, half of them cheering with wild excitement, the other half shouting curses and upset.
This was the betting floor of the underground; every blow carried money on its back, and Thaddeus's loss meant some had just won big while others tore up their tickets in rage.
Korr raised his arm for the crowd, his grin wide...
As Thaddeus lay down in defeat... Powerless... Even with Martial Prowess.
[1] "How long will you endure this humiliation?"
[2] "You forgive, they forsake mercy."