In the Frost family’s training grounds…
Kent led the training of 20,000 Supreme Wizards. Rows of wizards stood in disciplined lines, each sparring against their designated partners or practising new spell formations under Kent’s watchful eye.
The sounds of exertion, the sizzling energy of magic, and the steady rhythm of feet against the ground filled the air. Kent moved through their ranks, correcting forms, adjusting stances, and offering words of encouragement. His presence alone was a source of strength and inspiration and each of them knew they were in the hands of a true master.
Lily was among them, her every spell was sharp and precise as she parried and attacked her sparring partner. She was swift, her spells imbued with superior mana and frost element, but she kept glancing toward Kent as he walked through the lines of wizards.
Kent stopped to heal those who had been wounded, a soft, golden light would emit from his hands, mending bruises, sealing cuts, and soothing the fatigue from their bodies.
Many of the female wizards he healed looked up at him with intense gratitude in their eyes, a few with their cheeks tinged pink, enjoying the rare moment of pleasure his touch brought.
Each time Kent’s fingers brushed against ladies skin, Lily felt a subtle irritation in her chest—an annoyance, an irritation she couldn’t quite name. She had known men who had courted her, flattered her, and sought her favor in every way imaginable.
Yet this man, this enigmatic figure with his quiet strength, cared little for her or her attention, seeming more concerned with the art of war than with personal relationships.
The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm twilight across the field as Kent finally called an end to the day’s training. “Enough for now. Rest and recover. Tomorrow, we begin again at dawn.” He said, his voice commanding yet calm.
His words were met with sighs of relief and appreciation as the wizards dispersed, their faces etched with exhaustion and satisfaction.
As Kent turned to make his way toward the palace steps, he felt a presence behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Lily hastening toward him. She paused, catching her breath before speaking.
“Are you… are you truly a Supreme Ninth Rank Healer?” Lily asked, her voice wavering just slightly, betraying the weight of her question.
Kent nodded, his expression calm and unreadable.
A flicker of hope lit up Lily’s face, though she quickly suppressed it. She bit her lip, gathering her resolve before speaking again. “Could you… could you help my sister?” she asked softly, a note of vulnerability creeping into her voice. “She suffers terrible pain at night. I can’t bear to see her in such agony.”
Kent held her gaze, his eyes as deep and unyielding as stone. “I will help her. But only when she asks me herself. Besides, your sister is not ill. She is overburdened by her own cultivation, like an inflated ballon.”
Lily blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What… what do you mean?”
“She seeks strength but lacks faith in herself. How can she find stability when she chases others’ expectations and follows commands that aren’t her own?”
Lily’s face flushed, her mind grappling with the implications of his words. “Are you saying she… she’s lost her way?”
“Convey my words to her. She will understand.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode into the palace, leaving Lily standing there, her thoughts a whirlpool of confusion and realization.
His words echoed in her mind, sparking a growing understanding that she couldn’t yet fully grasp, but she felt a strange urgency to convey them to her sister.
—
Far away, in the grand Royal Palace of the Quinn family…
In an opulent room filled with treasures and artifacts, Phillip, the emperor’s second son, stood before a large mirror.
Half-naked, he scrutinised his reflection, running his fingers over his upper body, where patches of dark scales had begun to emerge, giving his skin an unnatural, hardened texture.
The scales seemed to ripple with a dark power, merging with thick hairs that sprouted across his torso, shifting his once-human appearance toward something beastly, something inhuman.
Philip’s lips curled into a dark, twisted grin, baring the protruding fangs that had started to form at the corners of his mouth. Due to the presence of a forbidden goddess spirit in his soul, his body was slowly but surely morphing into the kin race of the goddess—a Rakshasa.
“Master… Master, why don’t you call a Supreme Healer? Perhaps he could reverse this… transformation.” The evoved donkey pet of Phillip suggested in a weak tone.
Philip sneered, casting a disdainful glance at the creature. “Why should I summon a healer? My body is becoming a weapon in itself. These scales—though they may not be attractive—are a defence, a natural armour that will protect me.” He turned back to his reflection, admiring the fearsome transformation. “Enough with your foolish suggestions. Did you prepare for the full moon ritual?”
The donkey-faced servant nodded quickly, his head bobbing in nervous agreement. “Yes, master. The sacrifice has been prepared. But… if I may ask, why are you conducting the ritual now? Do you have an enemy you wish to vanquish?”
Philip’s eyes darkened, and he clenched his fists. “Who said I have no enemies? That arrogant masked fellow, the one with the Divine Goddess spirit… he taunts me, haunts me.
Since the day I met him, he’s been a thorn in my side, his very existence an insult. In two days, the full moon will rise, and I will call upon the forbidden powers to crush him. That Goddess spirit will be mine.”
The servant bowed, understanding his master’s unspoken command, and retreated as Philip turned and strode purposefully from the room. After donning his finest robes, he made his way through the palace to his mother’s quarters.
In a lavishly appointed dining hall, Queen Soya sat at a table laden with delicacies and fine wine, having prepared a feast for her son’s arrival.
Philip took his place across from her, pouring a glass of wine and pushing it toward her with a practised smile.
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“Mother,” he began smoothly, “a few weeks ago, you had spies investigate a man named Kent. Did they find anything of interest? If I recall, we agreed that he posed a potential threat.” Phill asked like a caring son.
But Queen Soya’s expression flickered with surprise with Kent’s name, her hands momentarily trembling. She composed herself quickly, though her voice held a trace of nervousness as she answered.
“No, my son. That fellow Kent is actually a loyal man—a trustworthy ally. He even saved my life twice. There is no reason to target him now.” She hesitated, searching her son’s eyes. “Why are you asking about him?”
“Nothing serious,” Philip replied, his voice smooth and disarming. “I simply wanted to ensure your safety. But did you reward him for saving your life?”
“Yes, of course,” Queen Soya answered eagerly, her face brightening. “I gifted him a few treasures, even granted him permission to build a teleportation gate to his city. However, he requested to see the Fire Mountains and our forbidden army… though I couldn’t grant him that wish due to the current lockdown. Your father’s orders are strict.”
Philip’s gaze sharpened as he sensed an opportunity. He forced a smile, his tone filled with fake kindness. “Mother, allow me to handle it. I will obtain the necessary permissions. Summon Kent on the full moon night and grant him his wish to tour the Fire Mountains. We must honour our benefactors’ requests, after all.”
A delighted smile lit up Queen Soya’s face, and she raised her glass in a toast, her heart brimming with pride for her son. But within, Philip seethed with dark anticipation, already envisioning the downfall of his masked enemy.
As they raised their glasses, two plans—one craved for lustful desire, the other of vengeance—merged under the warm glow of candlelight, foreshadowing the storm that would kill them in the end.
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Note: Suffering from cold! Please comment if you found any grammar mistakes. Thank you guys for support.