Chapter 4: Ascension of the Devil Child
The city's chaos faded behind me as I left, its smoke, noise, and petty corruption replaced by the vast expanse of Eryndor's northern forests. The tavern's lesson had been clear: even the strongest could be tempered by precision, strategy, and control. Kael Draven would remember today. The city would remember. And I would remember every misstep, every detail, every variable.
My parents had hidden the prophecy of my birth from the people, knowing that envy and fear could turn the populace against a child even before he could walk. The Emperor and Empress had entrusted me with lands, attendants, and responsibility, but they had shielded the world from the truth: that I was the Devil Child favored by the heavens. Their expectations were heavy, but they were a lens, not a cage. I welcomed the challenge. Every day I trained my body and mind, studying the flow of qi, the patterns of combat, and the subtleties of strategy.
Even now, at seven years old, I felt the pulse of the world around me. The wind carried whispers of the forest's hidden life. Monsters stirred in the undergrowth, their cores bright and volatile, each one a fragment of potential, a piece of energy waiting to be absorbed. Each core I claimed would not only enhance my cultivation but allow me to extend my life, refine my qi, and sharpen my senses. My tutors, my attendants, and even the palace itself were merely steps toward the mastery I sought.
The forest ahead was steeped in legend. Stories spoke of an immortal who had lived for centuries, bending the flow of qi to reshape mountains, rivers, and the very currents of life. Few had seen him, fewer survived the encounter. I had heard the stories often, whispered in my childhood lessons and woven into warnings by merchants and travelers. And now, as I stepped into the undergrowth, I felt the currents shift—a presence, deliberate and precise, unlike the chaotic pulse of monsters or the aggressive arrogance of men like Kael.
A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and commanding, moving with a grace that belied age. His qi was refined, controlled, and overwhelmingly powerful. The wind seemed to bend around him, the leaves swaying slightly at his presence. My senses flared, every instinct alert. This was no myth. This was the immortal.
"You have potential," he said, voice calm and deliberate. "But raw potential alone will not protect the weak nor command power. Your path is unrefined. Your qi must bend to your will without hesitation. Only mastery of self allows mastery over the world."
I measured him. Every movement, every subtle pulse of qi, confirmed what I had suspected. "You are the immortal of the forest," I said evenly. "The one whose power I have heard in legend."
He inclined his head slightly, eyes sharp and assessing. "And you are the child of the prophecy. I have felt the currents moving through this land. Few are born with clarity, strength, and precision in such balance. You… are unlike any I have seen."
"I am Mykel Cassian Voss," I said. "Crown prince of Eryndor. I have begun to master the flow of qi, study strategy, and correct injustice where I see it. I intend to protect this kingdom and ensure that cruelty is never rewarded."
The immortal's gaze lingered on me, piercing, meticulous. "Very well. Growth demands focus, sacrifice, and the courage to face danger without hesitation. The strongest cultivators are not only skilled in battle—they are precise, calculating, and unyielding. You have the potential to become such a one, but only if your mind is as sharp as your qi."
I nodded. The forest was quiet, yet alive with latent energy. Every monster that had been a threat in the past now seemed like an opportunity, each core a puzzle piece. I could feel them. Sense them. The immortal watched as I drew my qi inward, letting it expand, connect, and refine. My senses sharpened. My mind calculated. My body responded.
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Days turned into a cycle of discipline. I cultivated tirelessly, moving through forms and techniques, feeling qi flow like a river through my veins, my movements precise, controlled, and purposeful. I absorbed the cores of creatures I defeated, refining their essence and incorporating it into my own cultivation. I felt my body adapt, my senses heighten, my reflexes sharpen. Each strike, each meditation, each breath was a lesson in efficiency, control, and power.
The immortal corrected my mistakes silently, adjusting my stance, my breathing, my focus. "Do not waste energy," he instructed. "Every movement must have purpose. Every thought must anticipate the next step. Power is meaningless without precision. Strength without control is nothing but chaos."
I studied him, observing the flow of his qi, noting the way his energy bent the environment subtly—branches moved aside, rocks hummed under his steps, even the air seemed to pulse. I replicated the flow, integrating it with my own, experimenting with control, learning the way energy could shape perception, speed, and force.
While I trained, my mind never ceased. I observed the northern provinces I was entrusted with, the city streets, the corruption that had festered, and the potential allies and enemies across the kingdom. Each variable, each minor detail, was cataloged. Every action I took, every training session, every observation was part of a larger plan—a blueprint for influence, protection, and justice. Even as a child, I understood the importance of foresight.
When monsters attacked, I was prepared. When I moved, my qi flowed in controlled waves, enhancing my strength, predicting their motions, and breaking their attacks before they landed. Each core I claimed added to my reservoir of power, lengthening my life, sharpening my energy, refining every aspect of my cultivation. The immortal watched, silent but approving.
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One morning, as mist curled through the treetops, I stepped to a ridge overlooking the forest. The sun rose, painting the leaves gold and red. I inhaled deeply, feeling the power of the land beneath me, the currents of qi flowing in subtle rivers through trees, stone, and earth. I could sense the lives of every creature around me, their fears, their intentions, and their potential. My mind, sharpened by cultivation and observation, ran simulations of countless outcomes. Every strategy, every counter, every movement was calculated.
The immortal stood beside me, silent. His presence was like a still river, calm yet impossible to resist. He finally spoke: "You have grown fast, Mykel Cassian Voss. Few your age could have refined so much, adapted so quickly, or integrated power with calculation as seamlessly. The next step is to challenge yourself against the unknown, to test the limits of your control and foresight. Only then will mastery approach."
I nodded. "I understand. I will not squander this gift. I will refine every ounce of strength, every drop of potential. Every injustice, every weakness in the kingdom, will be accounted for and corrected. The flow of qi, the strategy of battle, the pulse of life itself—I will command them, and none shall falter against the Devil Child favored by the heavens."
A storm of anticipation and purpose stirred within me. My heart beat in rhythm with the forest. My mind calculated every possibility, every outcome, every path forward. I could see the threads of power, the weak points of beasts, the arrogance of men who thought themselves untouchable, the flow of corruption through the city. Everything was a lesson, everything a tool, everything part of the game I would master.
I breathed in slowly, letting my qi expand, connecting with the earth beneath, the sky above, the pulse of life all around. I felt unstoppable—not in arrogance, but in clarity. In calculation. In precision. In the knowledge that every step I took, every battle I fought, every decision I made, was part of a grand design.
I was Mykel Cassian Voss. Seven years old, yet already shaping the currents of power. I was a student, a cultivator, a strategist, and the crown prince of Eryndor. Every move I made, every lesson I absorbed, every core I refined, brought me closer to the heights the heavens had intended for me.
And as I looked across the forest, I knew that soon, the immortal of legend would test me not just in cultivation, but in battle, in strategy, and in mind. I welcomed it. Every challenge would refine me, every obstacle would teach me, every opponent would sharpen me further.
The Devil Child favored by the heavens was no longer merely a legend whispered among the fearful. He was awakening, unstoppable, precise, and undeniable. And the world, in all its chaos, cruelty, and opportunity, would soon see the full measure of Mykel Cassian Voss.