World Devouring Golden Phoenix

The murmurs of the crowd turned sharp, laced with disdain.

"What a waste of resources."

Laughter erupted.

A deep, mocking chuckle cut through the crowd, followed by a voice dripping with scorn.

"As expected of someone from the Valthorne Kingdom! Hahaha! The crown prince is just as useless as his elder brother!"

The words came from a formation master, his voice brimming with ridicule.

The onlookers caught on, their curiosity piqued. Some turned to glance at Devrok, recognition flashing in their eyes.

Before his first awakening, Devrok Harrier had been a rising star—a prodigy, unmatched among his peers in swordsmanship. Yet, after two failed awakenings, his once-glorious reputation had crumbled, leaving behind whispers of squandered potential.

Laughter echoed across the square as more masters joined in, their amusement unchecked.

Damien's face, however, remained impassive.

Unmoved.

Without acknowledging the mockery, he inclined his head slightly toward the formation master in a gesture of thanks before stepping away.

Immediately, Devrok and Niomi were at his side.

"You can try again next year…"

Devrok's voice was steady, but Damien could sense the disappointment hidden beneath it. Niomi's warm eyes held silent encouragement.

Damien forced a small smile at their words.

Next year?

Even he wasn't sure what had happened just now, let alone how to explain it.

For now, silence was his best option.

---

"Sister-in-law, it's your turn…"

Hearing Devrok's words, Niomi nodded.

Her deep black eyes flickered with nervousness, but she quickly steadied herself.

Damien, recalling his predecessor's affection for his wife, offered a warm encouragement.

"Niomi…!"

She stopped mid-step, turning toward him.

Their eyes met.

"I wish you the best of luck."

For a brief moment, her expression softened. A faint red tinge dusted her gentle features as she gave a shy nod before stepping onto the formation map.

The crowd barely had time to refocus before—

A loud commotion erupted.

"Oh, heavens! Such an exaggerated heavenly phenomenon!"

Gasps rippled through the gathering.

Damien turned his gaze toward the source of the commotion.

A young man stood proudly in the distance, arrogance practically oozing from his stance.

Above him, a colossal figure materialized—a giant bathed in golden energy, its muscles rippling with overwhelming power.

The very ground seemed to quiver beneath its presence.

A hush fell over the crowd, their eyes filled with awe.

Even the formation master—who had conducted thousands of awakenings—muttered in disbelief.

"It's the Angry Giant… A B-Grade talent!"

Mesarith City had seen few awakenings of this caliber in decades.

Amidst the stunned silence, Damien's gaze flickered to Devrok.

His elder brother's face had darkened.

Something was wrong.

Frowning, Damien studied the arrogant youth more carefully.

A realization struck.

"The Crown Prince of Blue Hammer Kingdom…"

A wave of understanding washed over him.

The Blue Hammer Kingdom—a southern adversary of Valthorne—was at war with his homeland.

This man was not just a rival.

He was an enemy.

As if sensing Damien's gaze, the Blue Hammer prince smirked and mockingly inclined his head, his expression one of amusement and challenge.

Damien's eyes narrowed slightly.

Yet, before he could react further—

A resounding cry shattered the silence.

---

A blazing golden light surged around Niomi.

Then—

A cry.

A phoenix's cry.

Clear. Ethereal. It resonated through heaven and earth.

The temperature in the square spiked as a majestic bird materialized above Niomi, its enormous wings unfurling like a celestial decree.

Golden flames wreathed its body, licking at the air in a display of divine radiance.

The very air hummed with power.

Silence.

Every eye in the crowd was wide with astonishment.

Even the most experienced formation master's hands trembled as he struggled to voice the words.

"A… A-Grade Talent… World Devouring Golden Phoenix…"

A-grade talents were legendary.

For most residents of Mesarith City, this was the first time they had ever witnessed one in person.

The murmuring stopped.

The laughter vanished.

A-grade talents were beyond rare—the stepping stones to greatness. Warriors who possessed them reshaped history.

Even Damien and Devrok were taken aback.

Devrok sighed.

It wasn't completely unexpected.

Considering Niomi's mysterious background, such a talent seemed almost fated.

His father's words echoed in his mind.

---

As Niomi walked back toward them, Damien subtly noticed something.

Countless gazes turned in his direction.

Some were filled with awe.

Others… with greed.

Devrok's eyes flickered, his expression turning severe.

"Let's go. We're leaving."

Damien nodded, immediately understanding the situation.

Without hesitation, he grabbed Niomi's hand and began leading her away.

Niomi—sensing the tension—didn't question him. She simply followed.

Yet, just as they neared the exit—

A voice.

Deep. Gruff. Amused.

"What's the hurry, young friends? Why not stay and celebrate?"

Damien figure stiffened.

Devrok steps halted recognising the owner of the voice.

Raymore Blackwood.

The name alone carried weight.

The head of the Blackwood family. One of Mesarith City's overlords.

Damien's grip on Niomi's hand tightened slightly.

He recognized the undertone in the man's voice.

This wasn't an invitation.

It was a trap.

Seeing Damien's lack of response, Raymore's eyes narrowed.

With a cold snort, he flicked his fingers.

From the corner of his vision, Damien saw Blackwood's men subtly shift positions.

And then—

The Crown Prince of Blue Hammer moved.

He strode toward Raymore and whispered, his voice low but deliberate.

"Hehehe… These people don't seem to put Lord Raymore in their eyes."

The words dripped with provocation.

Raymore's gaze darkened.

He wasn't a fool.

He understood exactly what the Crown Prince was trying to do.

Yet, his silence spoke volumes.

Other leaders from Mesarith's smaller powers began to stir, eager to curry favor with Raymore.

Damien clenched his jaw.

They were walking into a precarious situation.

Raymore, however, had already made his decision.

His expression turned unreadable as his fingers twitched ever so slightly.

"No… I can't be careless. I will send the news back immediately."

---

Damien's group didn't hesitate.

The moment they reached their guards, they moved.

Swiftly. Purposefully.

There was no time for discussion.

Their only goal was clear—

Get out of Mesarith.

Now.