The Forsaken Reader100.00%

Chapter 13 : The Weakest Knight vs. the Forgotten King.

Ethan's mind raced.

He was Tier 1.

He had no aura advantage.

He had no magic.

But he had one thing the king didn't.

He could think.

Ethan gritted his teeth. "Zehris!"

Zehris, dodging another strike, glanced toward him. "Busy!"

"Not for long," Ethan growled.

Because he had just figured something out.

The king wasn't moving naturally.

Every time it struck, its movements were delayed—like something was controlling it from a distance.

Which meant—

There was a weak point.

Ethan's eyes snapped to the king's chest.

There.

A glowing golden mark, pulsing like a heartbeat.

That wasn't just decoration.

That was a binding.

And if Ethan was right—breaking it would end this fight immediately.

Ethan moved.

Not toward the king—but around it.

Zehris saw what he was doing and smirked.

"Oh," he murmured. "I like this."

Then—he attacked.

Not to kill.

But to distract.

The king swung at Zehris—just as Ethan lunged forward.

He raised his stolen sword—

And drove it straight into the golden mark.

The effect was instant.

The king froze.

A horrible, low cracking sound echoed through the ruins.

And then—its entire body shattered.

The air exploded outward.

Ethan was thrown back, hitting the ground hard.

And when the dust finally settled—

The king was gone.

Only ashes remained.

And something else.

Something glowing faintly beneath the rubble.

Ethan sat up, wincing.

Zehris dusted himself off, looking entirely unbothered.

"Well," he said. "That was dramatic."

Ethan ignored him.

His eyes were locked on the thing in the rubble.

It was small—no bigger than a gemstone.

But the moment he saw it, he knew what it was.

Because this?

This was an artifact that wasn't supposed to exist.

A relic that no one in the empire even knew about.

And when he reached for it, his fingers tingled with energy.

Zehris whistled. "Oh, that's interesting."

Ethan barely heard him.

Because this artifact—this forgotten piece of history—

Could increase a knight or mage's talent by up to 50%.

And for someone like Ethan?

Someone who had the weakest talent possible?

This was the single most perfect thing he could have ever found.

A cheat. A shortcut. A way forward.

And it was now his.

Ethan sat in the ruins, staring at the artifact in his palm.

It was small—a crystal no larger than a coin—but it thrummed with power.

Power that wasn't meant for him.

A relic that could increase talent by 50%.

For an average knight? It would make them elite.

For a gifted mage? It would push them toward legend.

But for Ethan?

Someone with the weakest talent possible?

This was the single most valuable thing in the world.

And he wasn't wasting it.

Zehris stretched lazily. "Well?"

Ethan exhaled. No hesitation. No doubt.

"I'm using it."

He wasn't the same person who had hesitated at Ironwood.

He wasn't just going to survive anymore.

He was going to win.

And this?

This was his first real step forward.

Ethan pressed the artifact against his chest.

The reaction was instant.

Heat rushed through his veins, burning from the inside out. His vision blurred—his body locking up as raw energy forced itself into him.

It was like something was breaking apart and rebuilding itself at the same time.

He clenched his teeth, refusing to scream.

Because this was what he wanted.

Power.

A chance to finally stand on his own.

And when the burning finally stopped—

Ethan felt different.

Not stronger. Not yet.

But awakened.

Like something inside him had been unlocked.

Zehris watched him with mild curiosity.

"Well?"

Ethan took a slow breath—then closed his eyes.

He focused.

And there—deep in his chest—he felt it.

Not just aura.

Not just power.

Potential.

A path that had been blocked his entire life—finally opening.

He clenched his fists.

Because now?

Now he wasn't stuck anymore.

The weakest knight was weak no longer.

And when Seran Durell finally caught up to him?

He was going to prove it.

---

Ethan stood in the ruins, fists clenched.

Something had changed inside him.

He could feel it—like an unseen wall in his mind had finally crumbled.

For years, his talent had been stagnant.

No matter how hard he trained, how much effort he put in, his aura had refused to grow.

But now?

Now it was different.

Now, for the first time since arriving in this world—

He had a chance.

Ethan exhaled.

Time to test it.

He closed his eyes and focused inward.

Before, when he tried to sense his aura, it had been barely there—a weak, gray flicker, fragile as candlelight.

But now—

Now it flowed.

Still small. Still weak. But not dead.

And that changed everything.

Ethan opened his eyes.

"Zehris," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Hit me."

Zehris blinked.

Then he grinned.

"Oh?"

Ethan nodded. "No aura enhancement. Just raw strength."

Zehris shrugged. "If you insist."

Then—he moved.

Faster than a normal human. Faster than a knight.

Ethan braced himself—but he wasn't ready.

The impact slammed into his ribs like a hammer.

Ethan staggered back, gasping.

Damn.

Okay. He still wasn't anywhere close to Zehris's level.

But—

He was still standing.

Before, that hit would have left him on the ground, choking for air.

Now?

Now he could take it.

And that was progress.

Zehris chuckled. "Not bad."

Ethan shook his head. "Again."

Zehris raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

Ethan gritted his teeth.

"Again."

This time—he was ready.

Zehris moved.

Ethan saw it— not just as an attack, but as a pattern.

A shift in balance. A tell in the movement.

And this time— he dodged.

Not perfectly.

Not smoothly.

But enough.

And when he spun to counter, his movement was faster than before. Sharper. More controlled.

Zehris grinned, catching the attack with ease.

"Now that," he said, "is interesting."

Ethan exhaled.

Not just stronger.

Sharper.

Faster.