Chapter 5. Then let my son choose his mentor. Part 1.

Now you may grasp the dilemma confronting the Head of the Clan of Despair. For if the hero possesses the ability to absorb the darkness, he may unwittingly harbor the seeds of infection, poised to unleash untold devastation upon the world. Yet, if he lacks crucial immunity, he is condemned to a fate sealed by the grip of mortality.

In unions between the gifted and the weak, the fate of the child hangs precariously in the balance of genetic inheritance. While most—85%—inherit the strengths of their gifted parent, there are exceptions, tragic anomalies doomed by fate. Whether due to genetic quirks or an inability to cope with energy imbalances, these innocent souls meet untimely ends, their fragile bodies unable to bear the weight of their lineage.

 If a child survives in the first few hours after birth, he is considered gifted. However, it remains indisputable that the dormant potential of the bloodline of the weak in their blood can manifest later in life, sometimes decades later or even closer to the end of their lives. It is noteworthy that the life expectancy of the gifted exceeds 200 years.

Thus, the child of the Head emerges as a harbinger of uncertainty, embodying the convergence of disparate destinies within a single vessel. Endowed with the purity of his father's untainted lineage, yet veiled in the mysterious legacy of his mother—a legacy that transcends conventional understanding, challenging the very laws of nature.

Amidst the unions between the gifted and the weak, the Head's concubine stands as a rare anomaly—she embodies the weak. Unlike her counterparts, she defied the lethal clutches of mana; her body lacked the capacity to absorb its particles, akin to its inability to harness the energies of darkness. Her constitution mirrored that of an ordinary individual, restricting her lifespan to a mere 40 years, as indicated by scholarly research.

In contrast, the Child of Chaos inherits the robust constitution of the gifted, intertwined with the unique lineage of the weak. In nine out of ten cases, the dormant bloodline of weakness may remain untapped unless the child encounters the energies of darkness, or alternatively, strengthens their physique with mana within the initial 20 to 30 years of life.

The elders of the great families pinned their hopes on the latter option. Yet, fate proved to be unforgiving.

Should the Head reject the offer from the Red Valley, it risks straining relations between the two factions. Consequently, the future hero may lose the trust of the people. In such a precarious atmosphere, another war looms on the horizon, posing a grave threat to the life of the prophesied child and imparting essential knowledge.

Priceless manuscripts are also kept in the territories of the weak, which offer guidance on difficult ways of self-improvement. For achieving immortality marks only the first step in a noble endeavor.

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The hero of prophecy is hailed among the people as a celestial child of unmatched valor, destined to raise the Home to a Myriad of Creatures from the depths of despair to the radiant heights above. His very being is said to withstand the darkest of shadows, his hands likened to ancient trees capable of lifting the veiled realm into the coveted light.

Yet, beneath the surface of such grandiose beliefs lies a more sobering truth—the weak harbor a deep-seated fear of losing the chance to forge an alliance with the hero. Should he grow up shielded from the trials and tribulations of their plight, he may emerge as just another privileged scion of a Great Family, indifferent to their suffering when the time for salvation arrives. Self-interest and apprehension for the future serve as the driving forces behind their actions.

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As the Head of the Despair Clan released a breath heavy with mana, he ascended the first steps of the staircase leading towards the delegation from the Red Valley Village. Clad in a robe of pristine white, his presence commanded the attention of all present, casting a profound stillness over the gathering.

The weak, no longer trembling under the weight of his aura, raised their heads to behold the approaching figure.

To their eyes, the Immortal Head seemed to embody the very essence of the prophecy's foretold progenitor. With reverence and awe, they bowed before him, their voices laced with urgency as they pleaded, "We implore you, honor the final wish of the elder!"

Standing beside one of the ominous, pulsating stones, the Head extended his hand toward its throbbing veins with unwavering determination.

"The Head!" murmured one of the elders uncertainly, prompting Immortals and Martial Artists to step forward in readiness.

Pressing his left palm against the rough, uneven surface of the stone, the Head murmured a brief incantation under his breath.

With a resounding crack, the stone shattered into fragments, sending them hurtling across the marble floor and striking both columns and people, prompting the latter to hastily erect barriers of internal force.

The dimly lit chamber was suddenly bathed in a kaleidoscope of hues, the swirling energies lending an otherworldly aura to the scene.

In the arms of the Head, the Child of Chaos felt his father's muscles tense. With eyes of azure, the young man scanned his son's serene visage, before turning back with a smile as if nothing had occurred.

"My son shall not be sullied by the meager energies of these fragile stones," the Head declared, his laughter echoing through the chamber as he addressed the representatives of the delegations.

The onlooker, stunned by the display of the Head's unparalleled power, quickly regained his composure. Swallowing hard, he spoke up:

"We understand your concerns," he began cautiously, realizing that to broach the topic of absorbing energy from the stones again would be both foolish, akin to a direct insult to the gifted. After all, finding stones as substantial and potent as these would be a near-impossible task. "But you must select one of us to impart our knowledge to the hero. Each of us has been trained by the headman and is a direct heir to the secret techniques."

A murmur swept through the hall, indicating a broader interest among those assembled. Secret techniques were highly coveted for their rarity and immense potential. These techniques, tailored to both the gifted and the weak, served to fortify the will and enhance physical prowess.

"The second offering we bring is the gift of knowledge," the spokesman continued, as the weak bowed their heads once more, eager to receive the Head's guidance.

"Very well," responded the Head icily, shifting the Child of Chaos from his arms to a seated position. To everyone's surprise, the child, whose gaze had been wandering ceaselessly until now, fixed his eyes on a short-haired girl with a fresh scar adorning her face. His gentle features softened further, exuding an air of innocence and warmth.

"Then let my son choose his mentor," declared the Head with a decisive tone, prompting a hushed anticipation to fill the room.