Chapter 12: The Verdant Tyrant

The Verdant Abyss rumbled.

The colossal beast towered over Alistair, its obsidian bark-like hide pulsating with veins of crimson mana. Its glowing eyes, filled with primal fury, locked onto him with predatory hunger.

The Verdant Tyrant.

A D-Rank Dungeon Boss feared for its unyielding strength, rapid regeneration, and ability to manipulate nature itself.

Any normal hunter would turn back.

Any rational hunter would call for reinforcements.

But Alistair?

He simply tightened his grip on his sword.

The fight had just begun.

---

First Clash – Testing the Monster's Strength

The Verdant Tyrant roared, the force of its bellow sending shockwaves through the cavern.

Then—it moved.

Despite its massive size, the creature was fast. Its massive arms, thick as tree trunks, slammed down with the force of an avalanche, shattering the stone floor beneath them.

Alistair vanished.

He reappeared behind the monster in an instant, his blade already swinging.

A clean strike—aimed for the spine.

CLANG!

His blade barely cut through the bark-like armor, sparks flying as the creature twisted, swinging its massive arm.

Alistair dodged, barely—but not before a shockwave of force slammed into his side, sending him skidding across the battlefield.

His feet dug into the ground as he righted himself, blood dripping from his lips.

Tough defense. Unnatural strength. High speed.

His eyes narrowed.

This fight would take everything he had.

---

Unleashing Nature's Wrath

The Verdant Tyrant raised its hands, and the entire cavern responded.

Vines exploded from the ground, writhing like serpents, each one laced with mana-infused thorns.

They shot toward Alistair, aiming to bind and crush him.

He moved.

"Floral Dominion."

With a flick of his wrist, his own emerald vines erupted from beneath his feet, clashing with the monster's tendrils, cutting them apart before they could reach him.

He raised his free hand—another spell already forming.

"Flame Burst!"

A wave of fire erupted from his palm, engulfing the incoming vines. The flames crackled, burning away the monster's regenerative plant magic.

Alistair wasn't naturally gifted in fire magic.

But he had trained in it anyway.

Versatility was power.

---

Pushing Beyond Limits – Life Force Infusion

The Verdant Tyrant charged, its massive fists aiming to crush him.

Alistair stepped forward, raising his sword.

And then—he activated his family's forbidden technique.

"Life Force Infusion."

A golden aura surged around him, his own vital energy flowing into his blade.

His body screamed in protest, but he ignored it.

A technique of House Vaelthorne—one that fused life energy with steel.

Few could use it.

Even fewer survived wielding it at full strength.

But Alistair?

He had never cared for limits.

His sword glowed with raw power, the edge vibrating with nature's might.

Then—he struck.

SLASH!

This time, the blade cut deep—carving through the monster's thick hide, drawing forth a roar of pain.

The Verdant Tyrant staggered, its chest split open, emerald blood gushing from the wound.

But the beast was not done.

With a furious bellow, it lashed out, its claws moving faster than before.

Alistair barely raised his sword in time—

CRACK!

The impact sent him flying, crashing into a stone wall with a sickening thud.

Pain exploded through his body.

His vision blurred.

For the first time in a long while—he felt the real weight of mortality.

But even as his body screamed in agony—he grinned.

Because something inside him was awakening.

---

The Awakening of Aura – A Swordsman's Path

His sword.

It felt… different.

Lighter. Sharper.

As he struggled to his feet, the golden aura around him changed.

It was no longer just life force infusion.

It had become something greater.

Something only true swordsmen unlocked.

Aura.

It radiated from his blade—an extension of his will, his intent, his killing edge.

The Verdant Tyrant lunged, intent on finishing him.

Alistair moved.

His sword sang through the air, a trail of emerald and gold burning in its wake.

And then—

He cut through the beast entirely.

---

The Final Blow – Strength Beyond Rank

For a moment, the cavern was silent.

Then—

The Verdant Tyrant stopped mid-charge.

A thin, golden line appeared across its chest.

Then—it split apart.

Its entire torso severed in one perfect stroke.

The dungeon boss let out a final, agonized roar, before collapsing into the ground, its massive body reduced to nothing but a lifeless husk.

Alistair stood over the corpse, his sword still glowing faintly.

His breath was heavy. His body was battered. Blood dripped from his wounds.

But he had won.

---

A Swordsman is Born

The golden aura around his blade slowly faded, but its presence remained within him.

This wasn't just a technique.

This was a fundamental awakening.

His sword mastery had reached a new level—not just in skill, but in understanding.

Aura—the essence of true swordsmen.

He had touched it. He had claimed it.

And he knew, from this point on—

He would never be the same.

---

The Dungeon Falls Silent

As the Verdant Tyrant's corpse crumbled into dust, the dungeon itself began to collapse.

The Verdant Abyss had lost its master.

Alistair sheathed his blade, his body still aching.

But his expression remained cold. Focused.

Because this victory?

It was only the beginning.

If a mere D-Rank Dungeon Boss had pushed him this far—

Then he was still too weak.

And weakness was unforgivable.

With one final look at the battlefield, he turned away—ready for the next challenge.

---

The dungeon trembled behind him, its structure collapsing now that the Verdant Tyrant had been slain. The scent of blood, burnt flora, and mana-scorched stone clung to Alistair's tattered clothes. His body was battered—his wounds aching with every step—but his expression remained unmoved.

As he emerged from the dungeon's exit, a black luxury car waited at the edge of the desolate training grounds. Black tinted windows, reinforced armor plating, and a noble crest on the hood— the mark of House Vaelthorne.

The moment he stepped forward, the rear door swung open without a sound.

She was waiting.

Seated inside, a woman with piercing silver eyes regarded him with a cool, assessing gaze.

Her long midnight-blue hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her black combat suit clung to her form, accentuating a body honed for battle. Though she appeared calm, Alistair knew better—there wasn't a single moment she wasn't prepared to kill.

Selene Nightveil.

A Limiter-rank assassin, once a feared hunter of shadows, now his personal guard.

More than that—she had once been his mother's closest friend.

And for the last decade, his caretaker.

---

Inside the Car

Alistair slid into the leather seat without a word. The door clicked shut, the cabin filled with silence as the vehicle began moving.

He barely had time to remove his gloves before Selene's voice cut through the quiet.

"Another reckless dungeon run."

Her tone was flat—but he caught the disapproval underneath.

Alistair ignored her, resting his elbow against the window, his fingers lightly tapping against the door panel. His wounds had already begun closing, thanks to his regeneration magic, but the exhaustion still weighed on him.

He turned his cold, midnight-black eyes toward her.

"What's next?"

Selene sighed, a rare break in her usual composure.

"Nothing. Your training is over—for now."

He frowned. "Explain."

Her silver eyes narrowed slightly, as if debating whether to remind him of something obvious.

"Tomorrow, you turn seventeen."

The words hung in the air.

Second Awakening.

It was an inevitable milestone in the life of any awakened. A sacred threshold where one's mana veins expanded, their affinities refined, and their growth potential skyrocketed.

The first Awakening at age ten was merely the beginning—a foundation.

The Second Awakening was the true rebirth.

Alistair's fingers stopped tapping. So, it was already time.

---

Second Awakening

"Your mana veins will expand," Selene continued, watching his reaction. "Your affinity with nature magic will deepen, and if you're fortunate, you may gain additional elemental alignments."

Alistair remained silent. He wasn't expecting a miracle. His affinity for nature magic was already strong due to his Vaelthorne bloodline.

But his proficiency in other elements was… lacking.

He had brutally trained in fire, lightning, shadow, and even abyssal magic to gain versatility. Yet, his affinity for them was minimal at best.

The Second Awakening could change that.

Or it could confirm his limits.

Selene studied him, then added:

"The Patriarch has ordered you to rest."

Alistair's gaze darkened.

"He 'ordered'?"

Selene's lips curled into the barest hint of a smirk.

"He knows you'd ignore a suggestion."

She wasn't wrong.

Vaelthorne blood burned with ambition and pride. He was no different.

Resting? A waste of time.

But even he knew that pushing himself recklessly before the Awakening was pointless.

The mana within him was already unsteady, stirring, ready to transform.

He exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

Fine.

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