"Nom nom nom!"

  Exitus devoured and stuffed the delicious food into his mouth, a taste he hadn’t experienced for a long time. Ever since being branded with the slave mark, what he ate was nothing more than trash.

  The meal was strange; the three-member family just sat there staring at him without touching their chopsticks. Mira’s father, Hola, stroked his long white beard and smiled faintly. He had a strong bare torso, his arms tattooed with frightening serpent-like patterns. Mira’s mother, Mel, was a kind woman with a beautiful face. She sat beside Hola, directly in charge of serving more rice whenever Exitus finished his bowl. She always looked at the boy with affection mixed with a hint of sympathy.

  “Hey! Slow down. No one’s going to take your food,” Mira said.

  Exitus didn’t reply. He was focused on his task, and everything continued until his stomach was full and round. Exitus let out a satisfied burp. Only then did he have time to observe this fishing-family household.

  “Once again, thank you all! My name is Exitus! I will never forget the life-saving kindness of everyone,” Exitus said sincerely.

  “It’s nothing worth mentioning, just a small thing! Anyone would’ve done the same,” Hola replied.

  “Not everyone is truly human though,” Exitus thought silently.

  Suddenly, his gaze fell on Hola’s tattoos, patterns running along the muscular body of the middle-aged man, radiating an intimidating and dignified aura. Exitus wondered if this was some kind of charm or a form of Troll voodoo magic. Yet strangely, he couldn’t feel any energy fluctuation coming from it.

  While he was deep in thought, Hola suddenly spoke:

  “Looks cool, huh? These tattoos are the tradition of the fishermen of Hesmir village. Our ancestors believed that tattooing serpents and dragons on the body could protect us from the sea beasts Eldloss. On the other hand, it’s also a charm of good luck when we go to sea.”

  “But that’s strange! It seems to be just an ordinary tattoo! I don’t feel any energy fluctuation from it,” Exitus said.

  “You can sense energy fluctuation?” Mira, sitting nearby, asked in surprise.

  “Of course. I can see the traces of water-element mana lightly swirling around your body. However, the density is still weak either you haven’t carved your first magic core yet, or you have some way to hide your magical aura,” Exitus explained frankly, proving that he truly had such an ability.

  “It’s true! Oh Enesur! He’s a naturally gifted mage just like you, Mira!”

  Mel covered her mouth in astonishment, those with innate magical talent were rare, even in all of Hesmor. That’s why mages were much rarer than warriors in this world.

  “Of course you can’t sense anything; these are just normal tattoos made with ink. They’re not charms at all,” Hola laughed heartily.

  Exitus looked at Hola’s muscles and aura, from that alone, he could tell the man was merely at the Fighter level. However, Mel was not that simple. Even though she seemed to hide it, Exitus could still perceive faint threads of energy emitting from her body.

  “A woman not to be underestimated,” Exitus thought.

  Naturally, the fact that Mira possessed innate magical talent was not a coincidence. Exitus chose not to expose it. They were people who had helped him, and everyone had their secrets. As long as they posed no harm to him, he would pretend not to know.

  “Do you have any plans for the future, Exitus?” Mel suddenly asked.

  Exitus recalled the question Nashor had asked him back in Allblack. At that very moment, Nashor had told him he should take the entrance examination for the Great Will Academy, the most prestigious academy on the entire continent of Veynar, an academy for multiple races. Most of the Champions from the Newborn God War had once studied there.

  “I will study at the Great Will Academy,” Exitus replied.

  "Phew! Hahaha! That’s so funny!” Mira, sitting nearby, held her stomach and laughed loudly.

  She also felt that Exitus was a talented child. But that alone was not enough, Great Will was the peak of the entire world. The students of Great Will were the top of the young generation’s pyramid. Mira herself was considered a genius, but compared to those at Great Will, she seemed utterly ordinary.

  “Great Will isn’t a place ordinary geniuses can reach. You’d better not dream too much, or you’ll just be disappointed,” Mira said mockingly.

  “Great Will’s branch for humans is located in Greaton. The admission quotas are torn apart by the four great families of Greaton. There are very few spots left for the outer families. The children of those four great families are already extremely powerful from birth and even possess unique special abilities. We ordinary people don’t have enough power… or wealth to compete with them. The gap is enormous,” Mira said gloomily.

  Even among the nobles in this bay area, she couldn’t compete with them — how could she possibly compete with the nobles of Greaton? To her, studying at Great-Mornet was already an incredibly distant dream.

  Exitus listened carefully, not missing a single word. There was quite a lot of useful information in what Mira said. However, Exitus was extremely confident in his own ability, or at least, in the power of the Book of Madenes, a creation directly made by a real god. According to recorded history, at his peak, Madenes nearly dominated all of Veynar. All the races had to join forces to defeat him. Although Exitus had yet to comprehend the Ultimate Skill, he could already fight evenly against an ordinary warlord.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “I believe you can do it, boy,” Mel suddenly said softly.

  She smiled gently, her voice kind and warm like a mother’s.

  “Instead of taking one big leap to Great Will, maybe you should move forward step by step. Why not try your strength at Seabloom first?”

  Exitus silently nodded. Perhaps that was a good idea.

  Mira looked at her mother in surprise. Ever since she was little, her mother had rarely praised her. Even when she was called a genius, to her mother it always seemed like something natural. Now, she was constantly encouraging a stranger. Mira’s heart suddenly filled with complex emotions, even a trace of jealousy.

  “Mira! You have to return to the academy tomorrow, right? Take Exitus with you for the entrance examination. Maybe you two can help each other.”

  “All right, Mother.”

  At the royal palace of Hermir, inside the old and modest study of King Rumi, a room filled with bookshelves like a vast library, a place that should have been quiet and solemn,now filled with loud quarrels echoed between two men, one young and one older. The middle aged man was none other than the True King of Hesmor, Rumi. The young man was a handsome youth with dark hair, dressed like a true merchant. His eyes burned with deep hatred. The young man was Aster, son of the late King Astor.

  “Stop spouting such nonsense, Aster! Hesmor will not start a war! Don’t you see, Aster? It’s all a conspiracy! They want to provoke this war, and I will not let them succeed!” Rumi declared firmly.

  King Rumi’s eyes were bloodshot. More than anyone, he too hated Golden, but his reason told him that things weren’t so simple, it told him he couldn’t take revenge, at least not now. Rumi grasped his trembling hands and slowly closed the book before him. Reading was the only thing that could calm him down, only by losing himself in fictional stories could he forget the stabbing pain in his heart. But now, that pain was being torn open again by his nephew, dragged out from the darkness of his chest.

  Aster had gone mad. His eyes were darkened after countless sleepless nights haunted by endless nightmares where every time he closed his eyes, he saw his beloved father slowly turning into a lifeless block of gold. Worse still, that golden figure twisted and deformed as the gold melted into liquid, turning into shining coins amid the cheerful laughter of the Mornet nobles, those vile scum who once flattered his father, bowing like dogs. Now that his father had fallen, they tore apart his family’s fortune, melting the golden statue that he called his father.

  “Uncle! Are you truly going to overlook all this? Can you really swallow such hatred? You let a sage like Horta be humiliated, my father be wrongfully killed, and the people on the Emerald River border slaughtered like animals!”

  “Silence! Don’t you dare mention Horta in front of me again!”

  King Rumi roared in fury. Compared to his elder brother Astor, Horta was far more precious to Rumi. After all, there was no family bond colder than that within a royal bloodline. Rumi panted heavily, trying to suppress his anger. He glared at Aster and spoke with finality:

  “I am Rumi, True King of all Hesmor. My decision is the decision of Hesmor. We will not go to war with Golden until we know their true purpose and the conspiracy behind it. Aster, your time will come, but not now. Now, get out of my study before I have the guards do it for me.”

  Aster stared blankly at the uncle who had once been close to him, now he felt like a stranger. The young man fell silent; something inside him had changed. His eyes gradually turned cold.

  “Yes, True King Rumi.”

  He no longer called Rumi “uncle.” He bowed formally. Aster had lost all hope in his uncle. To him, Rumi was merely a coward, too afraid to be a True King. Aster knew what he had to do and as the rightful heir of Hesmor, Hesmor Aster knew exactly what that was.

  At the private dormitory area reserved for genius students at Great-Mornet Academy, Aster jolted awake in a panic, sweat pouring down his bare, muscular body. He panted while his gaze stared into the darkness.

  He dreamed it again: the image of his father being melted into a stream of glittering golden liquid, cast into beautiful pure gold bars; the image of him crying and screaming, begging them not to do it, but the nobles ignored his pleas.

  “Don’t do this! Please, sirs, this is my father. This statue is Astor; you’re killing him,” Aster screamed, crawling on the ground like a dog, his body filthy with dust and the nobles’ kicked blows.

  “You still think you’re a prince, Aster? Your father owes us a lot! The debts must be paid and the unfinished contracts completed. If not for Rumi, I would have turned you into a damned slave,” the fat man Loket Coeur sneered.

  “You say this is Astor? You’re insane, Aster! A god appeared from the void and turned him into gold? if that god were real he’d certainly have the name Loket. Look closely: it’s all gold inside. Even if you poured a ton of gold over a body, if it were a real body it would contain flesh and blood inside, but inside this is pure.”

  Loket Coeur took a drag from his cigar, then kicked away the crying boy clutching his leg; he spat on the boy and mocked, “Even if it were real, Astor still owes me, and this won’t be enough to pay it all.” The fat man left amid hearty laughter, leaving the wretched boy writhing and suppressing his pain.

  “Damn it! Damn it! You dogs! You bastards! I will kill every one of you! I’ll chop your heads off!” Aster cried in agony, rain mixing with his tears.

  As before, Aster stared into a dark corner; he slowly whispered, “Go out! I know you’re there.”

  From the dark corner, a young beautiful woman slowly appeared. She wore a purple coat dotted with black polka dots and had glasses perched on her forehead, her violet eyes as deep as the night, with a seductive smile.

  “How did you know I was here?” Shelley asked softly, smiling.

  “Because you told me,” Aster replied bluntly.

  Aster had detected her by the faint perfume in the air. This was the male dormitory. No mad female student sprays perfume and wanders in at night. Likewise, no assassin is crazy enough to wear perfume on a mission, unless she wanted to be discovered.

  “Clever, Aster! As cunning as your father,” Shelley complimented.

  “Don’t drag my father into this! State your purpose,” Aster warned, watching her warily.

  He didn’t think he could defeat the person in front of him with only a Fighter rank, someone who had passed high-level magical barriers to get here without leaving a trace.

  “You don’t want revenge, Aster? We can help you achieve it,” Shelly tempted.

  “Revenge? How? Who are you?”

  “You don’t need to know who we are. Just know our goals align and we can cooperate.”

  “Ha ha ha! Ridiculous! I know you are the damned Golden! You simply want to provoke war between the two nations,” Aster snapped, his tone full of scorn.

  Shelly raised an eyebrow. Indeed, the son of a skillful merchant, he was far smarter than expected. If things were handled poorly, it might affect the plan, she thought.

  “So you refuse?”

  “Refuse? Why refuse! If you want war that badly, I will help you make it happen.”

  “Oh! You still agree even knowing it’s a conspiracy?” Shelly laughed seductively; she suddenly found the young man before her intriguing.

  “One thing you said is true: our goals do align,” Aster replied calmly.

  “All right, Aster! We officially form a cooperative relationship. I’m Shelly, a "minor" member of The Writter. We will discuss details on a near occasion,” she said.

  Then she slipped into the shadow of the wall and disappeared into the darkness.

  Aster sat there silently, on full alert, until the scent of perfume faded from the air. He exhaled; what he had feared had not occurred.

  “You bastards! I don’t know why you want war so much! But do you really think Hesmor is that weak?” Aster said with a cold smile.