Everyone claims that diligence and persistence are the only guaranteed paths to success—the only ways to level up. I disagree. True elevation often comes from unexpected luck, ruthless strategy, or simply thinking outside the box.
Alexander was one of the rare few in the world of Casters to stumble upon such a fortune. His story is written proof that success doesn't only come from following the rules and thinking inside the box.
To understand the secret of his ascent, we must return to the night it all began.
"Me? Kneel and beg for my life? Never. I will never debase myself for something as transient as life. You can take my life, and you can take the Sorulian spell, but you will not have my dignity."
Alexander's stance wavered, each unsteady foot trembling under the weight of his injuries. His robe, once a symbol of his status as a Level Three Caster, hung in tatters, soaked in blood. Gashes covered his skin, each one freely leaking his vitality away.
Yet, his gaze remained crystal clear—a fiery storm in his bloodshot eyes that refused to yield, even as his body betrayed him.
"I will never dishonor my family's name by kneeling before the likes of you."
His defiance was a stark anomaly in the situation. The ancient forest seemed to hold its breath, the moonlight shining down on his pale, devilishly handsome face. Strands of stray brown hair fell over his eyes—which glowed a fierce light brown, clearer than ever in the silvery light.
The moon had just reached its peak, the crickets' chirping the only sound in the heavy silence.
His sharp eyes swept over the three figures before him: the heirs of the three rival clans. Jaymer, Landon, and Clarisa. Each watched him with a different expression.
Landon's eyes were dull with disinterest. He glanced at the forest or examined his robes, treating Alexander's execution as a mere political necessity, a simple way to improve his family's standing.
Clarisa's face was a mask of stress. She had been the closest to Alexander—and the one who had led him into this trap. Her eyes remained fixed on the moon, unable to meet the searing gaze of the man she had betrayed.
The last of the three, Jaymer, watched with extreme disdain mixed with cold curiosity. His voice rang out, mocking and condescending.
"You think we want you dead for the Sorulian spell? You are profoundly naive. This is about something far greater. Your death is merely the catalyst for the rise of our three families."
Jaymer's words hinted at a deeper, more sinister scheme. He had no fear in revealing this; he already considered Alexander a corpse.
"I've always wondered what you would do in this situation, Alexander. During my planning, I often pictured you begging, crying, pissing yourself… or clinging to this infuriating, self-righteous attitude until the very end."
Jaymer stepped closer, staring directly into Alexander's eyes. He saw no fear there, only defiant resolve. The sight made his jealousy and frustration spike.
"It's simple. Just say *please*. That's all. Are you really so proud, so selfish, that you'll abandon your family because you can't utter one—"
"Shut up!"
Jaymer flinched as Alexander's fierce shout cut him off.
"If you're going to kill me, then do it. But you'd better make sure I'm dead. Because if I survive..." Alexander spat a bloody glob onto the ground. "...the full wrath of the King family will descend upon you all. And Jaymer, I'll start with the Bacilus clan first."
The three accomplices were stunned. They never imagined Alexander would remain unbroken, even with his life dangling by a thread. Their plan to humiliate him, to have him kneel and beg before they ended him, had utterly failed. Here he was, threatening vengeance from the brink of his own grave.
"Jaymer, let's just kill him and continue the trial. We can't risk being discovered here. Let's go." Landon of the Chalant clan grew impatient, his eyes scanning the dark trees.
"Jaymer, Alexander is too proud. Take his talismans and push him in. Finish it." Clarisa's voice was tight, eager to be done before her guilt could consume her completely.
Jaymer's smirk vanished, replaced by a feigned look of sadness.
"Well, I tried, Alexander. Don't blame me for your fate."
In one swift motion, he snatched the seven talismans hanging from Alexander's neck. Then, he slammed his foot into Alexander's chest, sending him stumbling backward into the bottomless pit below.
Alexander, arms crossed over his chest, fell without a sound, denying them even the satisfaction of his scream.
Jaymer peered over the edge, shaking his head in disgust.
"I hate self-righteous scum. Even now, he's convinced he's better than us."
"Are you certain he's dead? You know Alexander; he's like a cockroach," Landon said, hinting at past failures that made him wary.
"Ha! Are you kidding? This is the Forest of Misdirection. No one survives its depths. It's over for him. The best part is, the forest will dispose of the body for us." Jaymer's confidence was absolute. The forest's terrifying reputation was well-earned.
"C-Can we go now?" a soft voice asked.
Jaymer turned to Clarisa, his expression shifting to that of a predatory serpent pleased with its meal. "Oh, little Clarisa, you performed beautifully. Leading that fool here was the smartest decision you've ever made. When we return, I'll tell my mother of my... fondness for you. Arranging a new engagement should be simple, now that you've so conveniently broken your old one."