Jaren's arrogant words pricked at Valtor's patience, but the City Lord knew better than to dismiss this youth lightly. A prodigy from a supreme sect in the Central Province, Jaren wielded formidable talent and deep cultivation. His words carried weight, and the threat he posed was no empty boast.
The atmosphere grew heavy, all eyes turning once again to Darian.
Witnessing Jaren's overwhelming presence, a cold dread settled over the Valeblue clan disciples. Here stood a youth whose power and pedigree eclipsed even the famed hundred major cities of the Eastern Lands, the very pinnacle young cultivators dreamed of joining.
Jaren's domineering arrogance was etched deeply into their hearts, a terrifying reminder of the chasm between them.
"Darian, ten years from now, your fate will rest in my hands," Jaren declared, his voice calm but dripping with menace. "If you refuse to face me, then kneel now and beg, 'Spare this useless wretch,' and I might grant you and your Uncle Theron a way out."
The crowd's breath caught.
Kneel? Beg for mercy?
To abandon one's dignity for the chance to live, that was the cruel choice laid bare.
Seraphina's sharp eyes watched as Darian's proud head bowed ever so slightly, his handsome face shadowed by thoughts none could see.
Could anyone truly withstand such coercion?
Jaren's terrifying might was overwhelming not just now, but for years to come. To be crushed like an ant beneath his heel was the bitter truth.
For many Valeblue disciples, to become Jaren's enemy was a death sentence they dared not imagine.
Lucian's chest tightened with relief. Though he despised Jaren, seeing Darian cornered soothed the sting of his own wounds.
"Darian, you've suffered..." Theron's voice trembled with pain and sorrow as he looked at the boy before him, whose head remained bowed.
This child had endured so much in ten years. Theron knew well the burden Darian bore, the hardships he refused to yield to.
Now, just as hope began to bloom anew, fate had dealt a cruel hand.
The elder's hand rested heavily on Darian's shoulder.
"Darian, ten years haven't been easy for your uncle either. But listen, no matter what happens, I will protect your life. If you must flee, then leave the Eastern Lands behind. There's no place in this vast world where you won't find refuge..."
His voice was firm yet filled with quiet sorrow.
Then, a slender, fair hand gently covered Theron's.
Darian lifted his face slowly, brilliant eyes shimmering with warmth and fierce resolve.
"Uncle Theron, leave everything to me."
The calm in his words left Theron momentarily speechless. He simply nodded, unable to argue with such unyielding determination.
Darian exhaled softly and stepped forward, towering with newfound strength toward Jaren.
His whispered words were barely audible.
"This feeling of weakness... is unbearable."
Jaren's burning gaze locked on him, fierce and unrelenting. Darian's calm eyes hid a blazing fire, ready to raze everything to ashes.
"Jaren… why wait ten years? I, Darian, swear this: four years from now, we fight. Ten years ago, I defeated you; four years later, I will do it again. But this time fight to the death!"
His voice rang clear, laced with raw killing intent and reckless courage.
Every ear caught those words, and the arena seemed to hold its breath.
Darian's eyes cut like divine swords, and when their sharp light met Jaren's, the latter flinched, a rare flicker of pain crossing his starry gaze.
A harsh laugh burst from Jaren.
"Hahaha! Darian, you finally live up to my expectations! Four years? Fine! Four years from now, after I kill you, I'll gouge out your eyes and keep them as trophies forever!"
Behind him, the golden spirit moon pulsed and sank as his laughter echoed across the skies. His eyes blazed with terrifying flame.
A deafening roar sounded, the great bird-beast beneath Jaren spread its wings, whipping up a violent gust as it carried him away, fading slowly over the horizon.
Yet his arrogant words lingered like thunderclaps in every ear.
"Darian… why must you be like this..."
Theron's voice broke quietly. The weight of Darian's choice pressed on him, the boy had carried it all alone.
"Uncle Theron, this all began because of me. Let me see it through."
Darian smiled faintly, his eyes dazzling with resolute light. No one could glimpse the vast, untamed power stirring deep within his heart.
Theron sighed deeply.
"We'll see what fate holds."
Darian turned to leave, ready to forge his own path.
"I'll return soon. Tonight, I'll come see you."
City Lord Valtor had watched everything with quiet admiration. Darian's courage to challenge such a terrifying foe alone marked him as no ordinary youth.
Finally, Valtor spoke softly.
"Darian... may I have a word?"
Though uncertain, Darian halted, remembering Valtor's earlier support.
"Of course, City Lord. What is it?"
Valtor smiled faintly.
"There's a grand event soon. I want to invite you. Would you consider it?"
The words sent a ripple of unease through Eldric, who felt a sharp chill descend.
"A grand event? Please, City Lord, do tell."
Though hesitant, Darian answered politely.
"The Battle of the Thousand Realms, a month from now. I want you to represent Lungrath Main City."
The room fell silent, all eyes snapping to Lucian.
Wasn't the representative already chosen? Why Darian?
Valtor's announcement stunned many, including Darian himself. Lucian's face paled as if he'd seen a ghost.
"City Lord, the Battle of the Thousand Realms only allows three spots, correct?"
Darian asked, voice steady.
"Correct. Three spots. The young lady from the Lian family, the young man from the Saren family, and… you. Exactly three, no more, no less."
Darian was dumbfounded. Before he could respond, an agitated shout rang out.
"City Lord Valtor! How can this be? What about me? You promised I'd represent Lungrath! Why Darian? Why?!"
Lucian's face burned with disbelief and fury.
Valtor's cold reply cut through the tension.
"Do I need your approval to decide who represents us?"
Then, turning back to Darian, he asked quietly:
"Will you accept?"
Darian hesitated. The honor meant little compared to the urgency burning within him. In four years, he had to grow strong enough to defeat Jaren no distractions, no wasted time.
"Thank you, City Lord, but I do not wish to participate."
Shock rippled through the crowd once more. The Battle of the Thousand Realms was a coveted chance, a path to glory few refused.
Only Theron understood Darian's reasons.
Lucian, enraged and broken, nearly lost control before Eldric restrained him.
"This is mine Lucian's! No one can take it from me! Darian! Darian!"
Valtor's gaze remained steady, his voice low but firm.
"I know your plans. But heed me, if you join and succeed, your power will soar. And at the end, a great surprise awaits. But more than that..."
Valtor's eyes glinted with meaning. He mouthed silent words none could hear.
Suddenly, Darian's voice cut through the tension.
"Alright. I will participate in the Battle of the Thousand Realms."
The gauntlet had been thrown, and the game had begun.