The Frost family palace trembled as the storm broke the sky like spider webs, shaking the very foundations of the city.
The sky was a churning mass of black clouds, crackling with golden streaks of lightning. Thunder echoed through the streets as if the heavens themselves were in uproar.
At the center of it all, high above the training grounds, hovered Kent—his figure barely visible through the storm. His hair flowed like dark tendrils in the wind, and his eyes glowed with a fierce, otherworldly light. He raised his hands toward the swirling clouds, controlling the storm with the ease of a god commanding his element.
Below him, 20,000 Supreme Wizards stood in perfect formation, arranged in a spoked wheel. The formation rotated, each wizard acting as part of a vast chariot wheel, their movements synchronized, like the grinding gears of an unstoppable force.
As they moved, the Supreme Wizards channeled the lightning from the storm, drawing the raw energy of nature into their spellcasting. Giant, shimmering spells of destruction formed in their hands, hurling toward moving targets set up along their path.
The spoked wheel formation itself was an ingenious setup. Each segment of the wheel worked in harmony with the others, focusing their combined strength toward a single point of destruction.
The idea was simple—Kent would guide the path of the army while they rotated around him like planets around a sun. Each rotation would bring new wizards to the forefront, replenishing energy and maintaining the momentum of attack. It was a design for overwhelming any enemy force with precision and power, as devastating as a storm sweeping through a forest.
The spectacle had drawn the entire city’s attention. From servants to nobles, common folk to soldiers, everyone had gathered to witness this display of magic and power. The citizens watched in awe from the palace balconies and streets, their mouths agape at the sheer might on display.
“Look at him!” a servant whispered to another, her eyes wide with fear and admiration. “He’s controlling the storm like it’s a mere toy in his hands.”
“Is he really controlling everything on his own?” another asked, his voice trembling. “I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years.”
Even the Supreme Wizards below, who were part of the formation, struggled to focus. The sheer intensity of the storm, combined with the raw lightning they channeled into their spells, was unlike anything they had ever experienced. Sweat dripped from their brows, but none dared falter, not with Kent watching from above, a beacon of absolute power.
“I’ve never felt this kind of energy before,” one wizard muttered, his hands trembling slightly as he cast another lightning-infused spell. “If we misstep, we could be torn apart.”
“Focus,” another wizard hissed. “We follow the path of the wheel! No mistakes.”
As the spoked wheel spun faster, a wave of destruction rolled through the training ground. The targets exploded one after the other under the relentless assault. Yet, even as the formation maintained its rhythm, the storm above grew wilder.
Kent intentionally began creating chaos. The dark clouds thickened, and the thunder became deafening, echoing across the entire capital city. The lightning was now striking down in rapid succession, illuminating the sky with blinding flashes.
The citizens, who had been marveling at the sight, began to grow anxious. Some shielded their eyes from the intensity of the light; others held their children close, feeling the air crackle with danger.
“Is it safe?” someone from the crowd shouted. “The storm is too much!”
“Tell him to stop!” another voice cried. “It’s unbearable!”
As more and more people joined in, their cries for Kent to cease the storm reached a crescendo. Even those in the palace, including the Frost family members, looked on in wide-eyed shock. King Ragnar stood at the edge of a balcony, his hand gripping the railing as he watched the display.
“Kent… what are you trying to do?” Ragnar murmured under his breath. Enjoy new tales from My Virtual Library Empire
From high above, Kent remained silent, his face calm, but he could feel it—the power surging through him. He had been using more than half of his energy to test the limits of formation. But as the cries of the people below reached his ears, he realized he was nearing the point of destruction.
With a deep breath, Kent slowly lowered his hands, his glowing eyes dimming. The storm began to recede, the winds calming, and the dark clouds slowly dispersed, leaving the sky tinged with the pink hues of the setting sun.
The thunder quieted, and the last flickers of lightning faded into the distance. As the storm broke, a collective sigh of relief swept through the city. The Supreme Wizards stopped their formation, panting heavily, but they stood tall, their eyes still wide with awe at what they had just witnessed.
Kent descended slowly from the sky, his feet touching the ground with a soft thud. His robes fluttered slightly, still charged with the remnants of the storm’s energy. As he walked toward King Ragnar, who was waiting near the edge of the training ground, the crowd began to murmur again, this time in reverence.
“That was… incredible,” one of the palace guards whispered.
“He is alone enough to bring the Trident to our Frost nation after 100 years,” another added.
When Kent finally reached Ragnar, the king gave him a thoughtful look. “Don’t you think you showed more than needed?” Ragnar asked, his voice low but not reproachful.
Kent smirked slightly, shaking his head. “I’m just proving something to them.”
“What is it?” Raganr asked with a curious look.
“As long as I stand in the front, they don’t need to fear anyone. In the battle, they should get courage because I’m standing before them. Only courage can win wars.”
Ragnar’s eyes narrowed, but he quickly shifted the conversation. “There’s something else we need to discuss. The Doom family… they’ve made their demands for the construction of the teleportation gate.”
Kent raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—an unreasonable price?”
Ragnar nodded. “They’re asking for five times the construction cost if they are to complete it within two weeks. The King’s daughter, Princess Chuli, seems to be driving this negotiation. They want to milk this project for everything they can.”
A smirk played on Kent’s lips. “As expected of the Doom family. Greedy as ever. Fine. Give them what they want. I don’t care about wealth.
But tell them this: if they don’t finish the gate within two weeks, they’ll owe me ten times the total cost.”
Ragnar chuckled. “That’ll make them sweat. But are you sure you want to proceed with this? You’re already causing quite a stir with the gate and the revival of the city.”
“News spreads faster.” Kent uttered as he thought for a second. “Don’t worry, uncle. Let them think whatever they want. Make sure the construction was done within two weeks.” Kent declared.
Before Kent turned, Ragnar suddenly showed the glass orb, which glowed, projecting an image of Princess Sony. Prince Sony was standing in front of a crowd, proudly announcing her future engagement to Kent.
Kent scoffed, turning away from the image without a second glance. “She’s out of her mind.”
Ragnar looked at him with concern. “You might want to reconsider, Kent. Princess Sony is powerful, and her influence runs deep. You could gain a lot by marrying her.”
Kent shook his head firmly. “Forget about that mad woman. She’s not worth my time.”
On the other hand, the news of the revival of the dried river surrounding the dead island city spread like wildfire. The made up story of how Kent had managed to bring the river back to life had reached far and wide, filling the streets with gossip.
Whispers about the construction of the massive teleportation gate and the confrontation between Kent and the Doom family also began circulating among the common folk.
People spoke of the masked man with reverence and awe.
Ragnar watched Kent’s retreating figure and sighed. “You’re making waves, Kent. But the tides are getting stronger. I just hope you’re ready for what comes next.”
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