One last step

Roan's forceful words thundered through the hall, bouncing off the stone walls with an intensity that made the air tremble. His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles whitening as suppressed emotions threatened to spill over.

"You…"

His voice shook, laced with disbelief and frustration.

He couldn't comprehend his nephew's words.

The weight of the Harrier name, the family's legacy, and the harsh realities of the False Path—Devrok knew them all. And yet, even in such a delicate situation, he had the audacity to spout such nonsense?

Damien's eyes flickered with a strange light. He, too, failed to understand Devrok's reasoning.

The False Path was a warrior's last resort—a desperate choice for those who had failed to awaken naturally. Warriors who walked this road had to use an Apocalypse Beast crystal to open their spiritual space, forging a weak connection to Amma. But the path was riddled with failure, with most warriors stagnating before ever reaching true power.

Yet, after years of research and effort, a clear, codified system had emerged—one that significantly increased the chances of breaking through to the next rank.

The Valthorn Kingdom had carefully developed two known False Paths, each based on powerful beasts:

1. The Frost Lion Path

2. The Armored Toad Path

Following these paths, warriors had a 20% chance of reaching the Silver Rank—a beacon of hope for those who would otherwise remain stuck in mediocrity.

But if Devrok chose an unknown path?

The chances of him ever reaching Silver were practically nonexistent.

Roan's anger wasn't born from mere concern. It was a violent rejection of the foolish gamble Devrok was willing to take.

Damien's gaze drifted toward his older brother.

Devrok wasn't a fool.

During the past few days, Damien had come to understand him—a man of unshakable resolve, intelligent yet stubborn, someone who would not walk into failure blindly.

There had to be a reason.

Devrok's expression remained unchanged. The outburst had left no mark on him. His deep, unwavering gaze locked onto Roan's, his stance as steady as a mountain.

Then, he spoke.

"My uncle, I am still sane."

His voice was calm, yet beneath its surface, a storm of unyielding ambition raged.

"That is precisely why I refuse to be ordinary."

His fingers curled into a fist atop the table, veins pressing against his skin.

"I would rather take a gamble that might lead to greatness than rot away in the safety of a small prison."

His words hung in the air, charged with defiance.

For many, Silver Rank or even Gold Rank warriors were gods, their power unattainable.

But Devrok?

He saw them as nothing—mere insects in the grand scheme of the universe.

He had glimpsed something far greater, and he refused to be bound by limitations.

For a brief moment, the very air in the hall seemed to shift—as if acknowledging the weight of his determination.

Amyra's lips nearly curled upward in amusement.

"This boy..."

A sigh broke the silence.

Roan exhaled slowly, his anger dissipating like mist under the morning sun. His body sagged, sinking back into his chair as if the years had suddenly caught up to him.

His gaze drifted to the ceiling, eyes clouded with melancholy.

He saw himself in Devrok.

Once, he, too, had burned with defiance, unwilling to accept the cruel fate handed to him.

His older brother—Roosevelt Harrier—had awakened naturally, his rise meteoric, leaving Roan forever in his shadow.

The young Roan had fought against it, unwilling to accept destiny.

But the hammer of time crushed all resistance.

After years of struggle, he had accepted his fate.

And now, staring at Devrok, it felt like looking at a reflection of his younger self.

"Interesting…"

Damien almost grinned, watching the small drama unfold.

After that, the three ate in silence. Each moment was heavy, laden with unspoken thoughts.

It wasn't until Niomi entered that the atmosphere shifted.

The air grew lighter as the young girl's presence injected a softness into the room.

After the breakfast, as everyone prepared to leave, Roan spoke in a low, serious voice:

"Little Niomi, now that you have Successfully awakened you should start practicing. Amyra, please give her the Harrier Family meditation technique later."

Amyra simply nodded.

Damien rose without another word, Niomi trailing beside him.

He had preparations to make.

He would accompany Devrok.

The upcoming journey intrigued him—not just because of the process of choosing an Apocalypse Beast, but because of the incoming beast wave.

Although he could have abandoned this kingdom and started fresh somewhere else, his current identity suited him perfectly.

The groundwork had already been laid.

Now, he just needed to expand his empire while continuing to grow stronger.

The memories of the Battle Royale still lingered in his mind.

If it weren't for the Reincarnation Lord's intervention, he would have died that day.

And he knew—deep in his bones—that the mysterious enemy from that battle would strike again.

Damien had no choice but to grow.

Faster.

Stronger.

More ruthless.

As he packed for the journey, Niomi shyly reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

He let her.

The relationship between his predecessor and Niomi had been pure and genuine.

And while Damien had no personal feelings for her, he wasn't heartless.

As he finished packing the essentials—food, tools, and survival gear—Niomi suddenly rushed forward.

Her arms wrapped around him from behind, her body pressing against his back.

Soft. Warm.

Her gentle mounds of flesh molded against him.

Damien sighed internally, feeling the weight of her emotions.

She clung to him, her head resting against his back, and in a soft, almost trembling voice, she whispered:

"Husband... do you remember what we promised each other that night?"

Her words carried shyness, expectation, and a hint of nervous excitement.

A slow warmth spread across her cheeks, turning her skin red like a ripened tomato.

Damien froze for a moment, his mind sifting through his predecessor's memories.

And then it clicked.

"Ah. This…"

Although they had been married for years, Niomi was still a virgin.

They had promised each other to wait until they turned eighteen before taking the final step.

And now, she had come of age.

Damien felt a forced smile creep onto his lips.

"This body… damn hormones."

For Niomi, their bond was sacred. Her love was pure, untainted by deception or ulterior motives.

For Damien, however, things were different.

The man she loved was already dead.

And he?

He was not that Damien.

His principles were clear—he wouldn't take advantage of her feelings.

But for now, he could only nod.

He'd figure out how to handle it later.

Seeing his agreement, Niomi finally released him, a small spark of excitement lighting up her delicate features.

She could hardly contain herself.

Suppressing her emotions, she whispered one last thing:

"Be careful, alright? It's dangerous out there."

For a moment, she had wanted to beg him to stay.

But she knew.

Damien would only do what he wanted to do.

So instead, she could only pray for his safe return.