Isabella gazed at the large screen displayed in front of her with a wide smile.
She was currently in a very large control room, one bearing resemblance to the first-year control room that she usually visited to watch Atticus. But this was on a larger scale.
She was in the main and central control room of the academy, where every single thing and place in the academy could be monitored.
Apart from Isabella, operators were seated in front of different screens, going about their jobs.
Harrison stood just beside Isabella, also watching the screens and noting her smile.
On the screen were the figures of Atticus and Magnus streaking through a gap that had just formed in the blue dome. Such an event—opening even the smallest gap in the dome—had to be heavily monitored.
“Finally,” Isabella muttered under her breath, her happiness evident on her features.
Harrison turned to look at his daughter. “You’re happy?” he asked.
Isabella nodded. “Aren’t you? Now we have a chance.”
“A chance, huh,” Harrison muttered, causing Isabella to turn and look at her father inquisitively. “Tell me, Isabella, what were you doing when you were 16?”
Isabella pondered for a second, wondering why her father was asking her this question. “I was in the academy?”
Harrison nodded. “You were being guided, being shown the different paths you could take in the world. Do you know why?”
Isabella shook her head.
“Because you were just a child. A child who was supposed to be protected, who was supposed to be given a safe space to grow—a child who was supposed to dream and enjoy the little peaceful time you have left before you’re thrust into a world of chaos and death.”
Harrison locked eyes with Isabella, who had long since lost her happy expression. Although she had just shaken her head, she had an idea of where this was going.
“Isabella, it’s shameful. The fact that we all, from the bottom of the power ladder to the highest authority, anyone with even a modicum of strength, place such an overwhelming burden on a 16-year-old boy. It’s nothing other than shameful.”
Harrison turned his gaze back to the screen, fixing his gaze on Atticus, who was now on the other side of the dome.
“We failed him. We all failed him.”
Harrison’s words hit Isabella deeply. She could feel how much this all affected her father. He might not have shown it on his face, but she could feel it in his words.
‘It’s true,’ Isabella’s expression suddenly morphed into sadness. For once, she completely agreed with her father.
She had just been thinking about the good part—the part where the human domain would finally have a fighting chance against the forces acting against them. She had completely and utterly forgotten that Atticus was just 16.
A sigh escaped from Isabella’s lips, an overwhelming feeling of shame engulfing her. It truly was shameful.
Harrison and Isabella weren’t the only ones watching the scene. High above the clouds, even above the large and imposing administrative building, was the figure of a man.
With a crown of brown hair and a large beard, he sat down cross-legged, his intense gaze fixed in a certain direction.
His whole waist was donned with different sheathed swords, and on his back was a huge broadsword with its hilt sticking out over his head.
The area around him appeared normal, but the oppressiveness of the air couldn’t be contained.
It was none other than Aric, Kael’s grandfather and the principal of the academy. Aric had sparsely ever shown himself, even when the other paragons visited the academy.
This had been because his presence wasn’t needed. None of the paragons could break the rules—they all knew this well. Regardless, he had always been watching everything going on in the academy. Plus, Harrison made sure to report every happenings to him.
Aric, gazing with a large smile, was currently fixated on Atticus despite the insane distance between them.
He had seen everything the little monster did and, if he had to be honest, he was enamored by his personality. It was cruel, and it made his blood boil.
Regardless, nothing could make his blood boil as much as when he fixed his gaze on another location, where Kael was brutally punching a study tree with his bare fist, without a shred of mana or equipment.
It was an action that led to the impact area and his immediate surroundings becoming bloodied.
His arms were already broken, and yet he kept on punching despite the pain, not a shred of discomfort on his face. After a while, he suddenly switched to his legs. Another round of brutality commenced for a few minutes before switching to another body part.
Aric’s grin widened, his eyes taking on a hint of crimson as his battle intent seeped from his form. The atmosphere around him seemed to tremble.
Only those who had witnessed it knew the devastation that would occur should Aric’s battle intent fully emerge.
The berserker bloodline of the Stormrider family was simple and complicated at the same time. The more one desired to grow stronger, the stronger that person would grow.
It wasn’t as simple as it sounded. One would need to find a stimulant—a rival, to be simplistic. One that would drive you to want to be stronger and overcome him or her.
Over generations, the Stormrider family had found out a lot about this power. There were numerous aspects, but only the important ones would be mentioned.
The first: one could mark only one individual for life. This meant that should the individual grow stronger than his or her marked, the effect would immediately stop.
The second: it could only work on those whom you consider equals, in essence, a person in the same generation as you or age mates. It was normal for adults to be stronger than children—they simply had more time. However, there was no excuse should your age mate be stronger than you. This small fact would be the stimulant.
Why was Aric happy? It was simple! Kael had marked and tagged Atticus as his rival!
At this point, the implications were obvious.
Aric’s blood was boiling.
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