Chapter 27
Wrath
Everyone sat upon their seats in the vast hall, the atmosphere solemn, lit by the dim glow of torches fixed to the ornamented walls. The princess rested upon her great chair, adorned with gold and ivory, her presence wrapped in an aura of grace and dignity, while the others took their places around her. Einver, however, sat quietly at the side, a little apart from the circle, as though none of it truly concerned him.
Really… since when has my life crumbled into such nonsense?
He sighed softly, lowering his gaze to the floor, unimpressed by the spectacle before him. He felt stifled by the scene of vanity and pretension playing out in front of him.
Into that silence, a voice cut through—deliberate and sharp. It was Mi No, who spoke with forced civility:
"Why don't you tell us a little about yourself, Einver?"
The words were accompanied by a look of open disdain, eyes dripping with mockery, as if to belittle his very presence among them, unwilling to accept him in such a gathering.
What cursed situation have I found myself in now? Einver thought with disgust. It's plain these are spoiled children of nobles. No matter what answer I give, it will draw their contempt. Their opinions mean nothing to me, but if they dare use their titles and authority to hinder my path… that is something I will never allow. All I wanted when I came to this city was to learn more about this world and its strength, to grow stronger myself. I did not come to be a lapdog of the princess, nor to endure the ridicule of these petty fools. Ah… damn it. Well then, so be it. Let us finish this wretched play.
He lifted his head with a faint smile and said:
"Well… there's nothing important about me worth telling. I'm just a wanderer, traveling across the world. I come from a mountain village I'm certain none of you have ever heard of."
The guests were stunned by the simplicity of his reply. His words bewildered them. How could the princess count him as a friend, speak of him, even present him to them, when he was not the son of a noble house, but merely an unknown wanderer? Why was she so interested in him at all?
A girl among them laughed lightly, her eyes flashing with pride.
"My brother and I are martial artists. We come from an ancient noble family of the Sunlight City."
Then Mi Ni spoke with equal confidence:
"And we as well. My younger brother and I are martial artists, of a noble and venerable family in Sunlight City."
Einver smiled at them politely, his voice calm:
"A pleasure to meet you all."
The princess watched the polite but hollow exchanges, and her lips curved faintly, for an idea was already weaving itself within her mind.
She raised her voice:
"There will be a martial arts tournament beginning tomorrow. The four of you here will be participants, alongside many others. Tell me, Einver, would you be interested in joining the tournament?"
Einver's smile widened slightly as he listened, then he answered:
"Why not? I enjoy combat tournaments."
On any other day, Einver might have refused, offering some excuse to avoid entangling himself in this empty farce. Not from fear or weakness, but simply from lack of interest. Yet today was different. He had advanced—he had already reached the Realm of Earth, First Division. His body brimming with coursing energy, thirsting for battle, he wanted to test his strength against worthy foes.
But what startled him was the first rule of the tournament.
With a formal tone, the princess declared:
"No participant may be below the Realm of Earth – High Division. Only those who have reached the High Division and above may compete."
Einver's eyes met hers with perfect composure as he replied:
"In that case… exempt me from this tournament, Your Highness."
Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Why do you not wish to compete? Did you not just agree to it a moment ago?"
Nan Wu muttered deliberately, just loud enough for all to hear:
"What? Are you afraid you'll be beaten?"
A sly grin spread across his face, and stifled laughter rippled among the others.
Einver ignored their jeers, keeping his gaze fixed on the princess with utter indifference. Then he closed his eyes briefly—and released his aura.
From his body radiated a brilliant force, announcing his level clearly: Realm of Earth – First Division.
The princess was struck with disbelief. She had expected Einver to be far stronger, perhaps even beyond the entire Realm of Earth. Yet here he was, only at its first stage.
As for the others, they could no longer restrain themselves. Laughter exploded within the royal hall, the four of them mocking without restraint or respect, ridiculing Einver's modest level of strength.
The princess's cheeks flushed with shame. She felt deceived by her own assumptions. She had introduced him, believing he would silence their arrogance, but instead it was she who had been silenced.
Einver smiled faintly, but slowly his eyes began to burn red. His aura trembled suddenly with violent intensity, filling the hall with a dreadful pressure. His voice, calm yet edged with the roar of anger beneath, cut through the laughter:
"Why shouldn't I join the tournament anyway? That first rule is foolish. I want to compete… I want to fight."
The princess turned toward him, her gaze caught by those blazing crimson eyes. Astonishment flickered across her face, before she spoke with a trace of coldness:
"Very well… why not? I shall abolish the first rule, but only for you. Yet I cannot bear responsibility for what may befall you afterward."
Her tone carried a chill, as though her interest in him had waned. And in that instant, Einver understood the truth. The princess had never been drawn to him out of love as she had feigned the night before. What bound them was nothing more than superficial admiration—for his strength, for his mysterious bearing. It was not true affection, but lust and mutual interest.
And it was clear that these four were not true "friends" of hers either, but bound by intertwined desires: her body, and her ambition to impose her dominance upon the city and its noble families. All of it made sense in her schemes. All but one thing—she had tried to deceive Einver. And that was a sin unforgivable in any world.
For Einver, whether in this world or the one before, nothing had changed. He despised deception and falsehood above all else.
Even in his former world, before the outbreak of the Fifth World War, he had once walked with his friend Arthur, speaking together as they moved along.
Arthur had said with fiery conviction:
"Einver… someday I will surpass you, and I'll defeat you utterly!"
Einver smiled quietly as he listened, replying with simple ease:
"Very well… then I shall wait for that day."
With those calm words, they continued onward. But suddenly Einver noticed, beneath the hanging bridge before them, four figures standing. He peered more closely and muttered inwardly:
Isn't that… Astaroth? What is he doing here?
Drawing nearer, he quickly recognized the three youths beside him. They were his classmates—boys who always clung to him like glue, never leaving him, though Einver had never cared for their company. From the beginning he had seen their arrogant nature, and he loathed such traits, especially in weaklings who preyed upon those beneath them.
Arthur asked with worry, his eyes fixed on the scene ahead:
"Einver, isn't that Astaroth? And those boys… aren't they your friends?"
But Einver stilled him with a hand on his shoulder, speaking calmly:
"Let me see what's happening first, before we move."
Arthur obeyed, forcing a small smile, as they hid themselves behind the thick trees near the bridge.
Then the voice of one of the boys rang out, full of swagger:
"Don't you know who we are, you wretch? We are Einver's followers!"
Another added with arrogant bravado:
"That's right! Don't you know who Einver is? He's our leader, and he ordered us to take your money, you little worms!"
They shouted with anger and pride, as though they were kings, casting predatory glares at Astaroth.
I knew they were scum… but to use my name to harm the weak? And worse… to bully my younger brother of all people?!
Arthur's anger spiked at their words, but he froze as one of the boys slammed a fist into Astaroth's face, knocking him violently to the ground.
Arthur nearly lost his composure, ready to charge—but stopped cold when he caught sight of Einver's face. His friend's eyes were shifting, turning crimson like blood, radiating true terror.
Those dark, starry eyes, once like a night sky filled with constellations, were gone—replaced by the abyss of hell itself.
"Ei–Einver…" Arthur whispered in fear.
Einver's reply came with chilling finality:
"Stand back."
Arthur obeyed without hesitation, darting forward in a swift motion to lift Astaroth's fallen body.
One of the boys roared furiously, raising his hand:
"Who are you, wretch? Don't you know who com—"
But before he could finish, Arthur was already gone, carrying Astaroth away at speed.
And Einver… remained. He stood there, cold and unflinching, his gaze locked upon them as they shouted. Then, in a low but clear voice, he spoke:
"So… your leader is Einver, is he?"
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