The skies had once bled gold and fire.

A thousand years ago, the heavens split open with divine fury, and the gods descended upon the human realm like a flood of merciless light. Their armor shimmered with celestial glow, and their weapons crackled with the wrath of stars. The skies darkened beneath their chariots, and mountains trembled under their heels. They were gods—above mortals in strength, knowledge, and age.

But they were not immortal.

Contrary to what humans believed, the gods were creatures of longevity, not eternity. And that illusion shattered the day they discovered the Verion Crystals—deeply buried treasures within the veins of the human realm. Crystals that pulsed with ancient, primeval energy. Crystals that could prolong a god’s life… perhaps indefinitely.

The gods invaded with one purpose: plunder.

The war was swift and brutal. Entire kingdoms collapsed. The strongest martial practitioners—those in the lofty Martial Emperor and Demi-God realms—fell like wheat before the scythe. The ground was soaked in the blood of heroes. Human cities turned to smoking ruins. And just when extinction loomed, he came.

Lord Rhinus.

Clad in obsidian-black armor, cape torn and blazing behind him, he descended from the heavens like a curse upon his kin. As one of the three Guardians of the Gods’ Realm, he had once stood above all. His golden eyes, now hardened with defiance, struck fear into the divine legions. He fought not for glory, but for justice. And that battle… nearly cost him everything.

With wounds across his chest and divine blood soaking the earth, Lord Rhinus drove the gods back. He summoned the ancient technique of sealing, using his own lifeforce to lock the bridge between the heavens and the human realm. The skies closed. Silence fell. The gods vanished.

The cost?

He was exiled—branded a traitor, “The Horrible One.”

He chose to remain among mortals, his colossal strength now buried beneath healing wounds and a weathered cloak.

---

A THOUSAND YEARS LATER… CADDOCK EMPIRE

The winds were sharp across the palace rooftops of Caddock—one of the three great empires of Vion Continent. Its architecture was grand: towers of pale stone etched with dragon motifs, crimson banners fluttering in the high wind, and sprawling courtyards where elite martial practitioners trained in rows like silent ghosts.

Prince Davious—the third and youngest prince—stood at the edge of the garden pond, his reflection rippling with the breeze. He was a young man in his early twenties, strikingly handsome, with sharp brows, an aristocratic nose, and long, shiny black hair that cascaded over his shoulders like silk. Yet, despite his royal blood, he had always been regarded as weak—stuck at the mid stage of the Martial Beginner Realm. A joke in the eyes of his brothers. An afterthought in the eyes of the court.

But tonight, that would change.

That night, beneath the glow of the twin moons, Lord Rhinus emerged from the void—no longer whole, but far from dead. His soul hovered above the palace, drawn to Davious’s fragile but oddly compatible body. A boy ridiculed. Unremarkable. Yet perfect.

In a flash of ancient sigils and soul-binding light, Rhinus descended. Pain lanced through Davious’s veins as memories not his own surged into him. Battles in the heavens. The screams of gods. The feeling of eternity crumbling.

By dawn… Davious was no longer Davious alone.

THREE MONTHS LATER

---

THE THRONE ROOM, DAWN

The golden sun spilled through the towering stained-glass windows, bathing the imperial hall in hues of red and amber. Emperor Leotimus—robed in imperial blue silk with a lion-shaped crest on his chest—sat tall on the dragon-bone throne. His aura burned with the might of a Martial Lord.

Davious entered the hall clad in a plain black robe, his long black hair tied into a loose warrior’s knot. His steps were calm, but his gaze held a new weight.

He knelt. “Greetings, Your Majesty.”

Leotimus frowned slightly. “How goes your training?”

Davious lifted his head, voice calm. “Well. In fact, I would like to leave the palace. I wish to travel the realm.”

The Emperor’s brow tightened. “You? Travel? You’ve been stuck at the mid stage of the Beginner Realm for years. The outside world will tear you apart.”

“Then perhaps a demonstration is in order,” Davious said smoothly. “Let me challenge Prince Arrod.”

Gasps echoed through the court. A servant dropped his scroll.

Leotimus stared at him for a long moment, then scoffed. “So be it. Let your arrogance be your punishment.”

---

PRINCE ARROD’S QUARTER

“Hah! Is Father trying to get that weakling killed?” Prince Bavinus smirked, adjusting the dark crimson sash on his robe.

Arrod, the eldest—broad-shouldered and cocky—grinned as he slid a gleaming sword into its sheath. “This is perfect. I’ll break his legs and send him back to bed.”

---

THE ROYAL DUEL ARENA – THREE DAYS LATER

A crowd gathered. Ministers, generals, and nobles filled the amphitheater. The sun blazed down upon a circular stone stage surrounded by marble statues of past emperors.

Prince Arrod stood tall in his silver-plated armor, long sword at his side, his expression smug.

Davious stepped forward in a simple dark robe. No armor. No weapon. Just his calm eyes—and an unreadable smile.

“Come at me, brother,” Davious said lightly.

Arrod sneered. “Arrogant bastard. I’ll teach you humility!”

He dashed forward, blade flashing. With a roar, he struck—aiming for Davious’s heart. But the moment steel met flesh—

CLANG!

The blade bounced off his chest like it struck iron.

“What—?!” Arrod staggered, eyes wide.

He slashed again. And again. Sparks flew, but Davious didn’t flinch. The crowd murmured. Eyes widened.

“Could it be,” Davious said with a smirk, “that you haven’t eaten this morning?”

“DAMN YOU!”

Arrod’s forehead ignited with a sword-shaped light—his soul force unleashed. A red glow pulsed around him, proving his advanced level. But Davious moved.

In a blur, he appeared beside Arrod—one palm open.

BOOM!

A shockwave burst across the arena as Arrod was flung off his feet, crashing into the wall behind. Dust erupted. Gasps turned into roars.

The ministers stood. Leotimus’s eyes narrowed in disbelief.

Davious stood still, expression cool, the wind catching the edges of his robe like a storm was gathering around him.

In the world of soulforce and ancient bloodlines, power didn’t just exist—it branded you.

For those in the Beginner Realm, a single glowing dot shimmered on the center of the forehead. At mid-stage, a second dot appeared. Reaching the peak meant three distinct lights—a sign to all that you’d conquered the first threshold of martial cultivation.

But beyond that? Things became far more dangerous—and far more divine.

The Advanced Martial Realm brought with it a sword-shaped sigil, carved deep into the forehead, burning with energy. The Martial Master Realm evolved into a triangular glow, then a spherical carving for the Martial Lords. Those at the Martial King level bore a half-circle, Martial Emperors displayed a full luminous ring, and Demi-Gods walked the world with star-shaped markings etched in brilliance.

At the very summit—the Martial God Realm—a crescent moon burned into the forehead like an ethereal scar of supremacy. Around each symbol, glowing dots spiraled like satellites, marking the stage within the realm. The more dots, the closer they were to breaking the next boundary.

And boundaries were meant to be broken.

---

The crowd inside the palace colosseum held their breath. Gold banners fluttered, the sun casting sharp shadows over the stone arena. Thunderous silence reigned as Prince Arrod, third son of the throne, stood tall with his blade raised high.

Soulforce gathered at the edge of his weapon, wrapping the steel in a fiery red glow.

His eyes locked on the figure across from him—calm, motionless, almost bored.

Davious.

Without a word, Arrod stepped forward and slashed through the air.

A blistering arc of energy tore from his sword—roaring like a wildfire straight at Davious.

And then—it vanished.

The moment the attack neared Davious, it dispersed like smoke in the wind, as if the very space around him denied its existence.

Gasps echoed across the platform.

Davious tilted his head slightly, not even bothering to raise a hand. "This is getting tedious, brother," he said softly, "Why don’t we stop wasting time?"

Before Arrod could blink, the air trembled.

A silent burst of soulforce exploded outward. No flash. No warning.

Just raw, invisible pressure.

Arrod was hurled off his feet like a ragdoll, slammed backward across the ring, crashing into the ground with a sickening thud.

Davious exhaled as if bored by it all. “How... pathetic.”

The silence in the arena cracked into stunned murmurs. The prince hadn’t even scratched him.

Moments later, the royal decree echoed through the space—Davious was victorious. And with that victory came freedom.

He would no longer be chained to the royal palace.

---

That same day, he vanished from the capital.

---

Several days later…

Dust curled around Davious’ boots as he walked into a quiet, nameless village under the shadow of craggy hills. His cloak shifted with the wind, and in the distance, shouting broke the morning calm.

He stopped—his gaze narrowing.

Up ahead, five men circled someone near the edge of the village road.

“You bastard! You’ve got guts mouthing off to me!” barked a massive brute, skin weathered and lined, a glowing red sword-shaped sigil on his forehead pulsing with menace—mid-stage Advanced Martial Realm.

Beside him, three others smirked. Their brows bore three dots—late-stage Beginner Realm—cocky, eager, bloodthirsty.

Their prey?

A young man, no older than twenty, standing tall despite bruises on his face and a cracked spear clutched in both hands. His stance was firm, his breathing sharp, but his body was trembling.

He fought.

He moved like a tempest—but against multiple foes, it was only a matter of time.

A blunt strike caught his ribs. He coughed up blood and dropped to his knees.

The brute stomped forward and pinned him down with a boot, grinding his face into the dirt.

That’s when Davious spoke.

"That’s enough." His voice was calm—but the weight in it stopped birds mid-flight.

The gang froze and turned.

A stranger walked toward them with a quiet smile, eyes half-lidded. Wind curled behind him, swirling as if the world bent slightly around his steps.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of the smaller goons spat.

Davious stopped ten feet away. “Leave now. Or I’ll shatter your soul marruns where you stand.”

They laughed—at first.

The brute squinted. “What... what realm is he in? That aura...”

“Too young to be anything special.”

“Maybe a bluff.”

Davious raised a single finger.

“Let’s test your theory.”

The brute howled and charged, dragging the ground with his soulforce. Dust kicked into the air as he roared forward.

But Davious flicked his wrist.

A pulse of soulforce rippled outward—silent, clean, deadly.

The brute didn’t even see it.

His body flew back like he'd been struck by a god. He hit the earth with a crunch—his scream tore through the air.

Blood gushed from his mouth as he clutched his chest, his soul marrun ruptured inside him.

“You... you crushed it...!” he howled, tears and snot streaming down his face.

Davious walked up slowly, crouching beside him.

He smiled.

“Should I take your life too? Or would you prefer to crawl away like the insect you are?”

The man screamed and dragged himself backward, limping into the trees, vanishing in terror. His thugs were long gone.

The young man groaned and sat up.

He bowed low.

“Thank you, Senior.”

Davious gave a simple nod. “What’s your name?”

“Heddicus.”

Davious blinked. “Heddicus? Hmm… interesting. Would you like to become my disciple?”

Heddicus froze, jaw half-open.

“Oh? You’re hesitating. I take that as a no.”

“No! No, of course not! I’d be honored, Senior!”

Davious studied him for a moment longer, then his eyes gleamed.

“You’re the son of General Cuffinus, aren’t you?”

Heddicus blinked. “How did you—”

“That spear technique... your bloodline... and most importantly—”

He stepped close and touched the boy’s chest with two fingers.

“—you were born with a Divine Thunder Body.”

Heddicus’s eyes widened.

“No one was supposed to know! I... I can’t even awaken it until I reach the Martial Lord Realm—”

“Who says?”

Davious raised his hand and pressed a glowing finger to Heddicus’ forehead.

“Watch.”

A golden beam surged from his fingertip. Heddicus screamed as his body convulsed. Lightning arced from his bones, exploding outward in pulses of raw power.

His eyes flared bright blue. The wind howled as the sky darkened.

“I—IT’S AWAKENED! The Divine Thunder Body!” he roared.

“And... and I broke through! I actually broke through!!”

He dropped to his knees, slamming his fist to the ground.

“Disciple Heddicus greets Master Davious!”

Davious smirked and looked to the sky.

“Good. You’ll be the first of many.”

---

The next few days passed quickly.

As they walked along a rocky path, Heddicus pointed ahead.

“Master—that’s the road to Ormadock Martial Academy. Are we headed there?”

Davious nodded lazily. “I assume that’s where you were going before we met.”

“Yes, Master. But I don’t need it anymore. I’ve already found what I was looking for.”

Davious grinned. “Still, let’s take a peek. Might find a few more talents to bring under my wing.”

“Wait—Master, are you planning to build your own martial academy?!”

Davious turned slowly, flicked his finger, and smacked the back of Heddicus’ head.

“Stop asking questions and focus on your steps. You still trip too easily.”

Ormadock Martial Academy stood like a colossus on the Vion continent—an elite sanctuary where only the finest martial practitioners trained under the watchful eyes of masters. Towering stone walls circled the sprawling campus like a fortress, its architecture echoing centuries of power and tradition. The academy’s name was born from unity: “OR” for Orvand Empire, “MA” for Mavinus Empire, and “DOCK” for the Caddock Empire. Together, they had built the greatest martial institution across all three empires.

As the sun dipped behind the academy’s massive front gates, two figures approached—one calm and confident, the other bright-eyed and reverent.

Davious and his disciple, Heddicus, had arrived.

“You can’t enter! Get lost!” one of the armored gate guards barked, stepping forward with an aggressive stance.

“You fools…” Heddicus sneered, stepping ahead, “Do you have any idea who my master is?”

Davious stepped forward, his gaze calm but cutting. “I’m here to meet the Head of the Academy. Let me through.”

One of the guards let out a cold laugh. “What a joke.”

Without another word, Davious casually raised his hand—and a pulse of soul force rippled from him like a tidal wave. The air bent, the ground cracked, and both guards were hurled backward as if struck by a divine storm.

The force was so overwhelming, it triggered an alarm within the academy itself. And then—

A figure flashed in front of them like lightning.

In an instant, Lord Irrus, Head of the Academy, appeared at the gates. An elder dressed in flowing white robes and gripping a long, black rod. His presence carried centuries of refined power—he was a second-stage Martial Emperor.

“May I know why you’re disturbing my academy?” Irrus asked with sharp authority.

Davious smirked faintly. “Getting old dulls the eyes, it seems.”

At that, Heddicus stiffened beside his master. He’d heard the stories—Lord Irrus was no ordinary warrior. He stood at the peak of the continent’s strongest.

“How impudent,” Irrus growled, and unleashed a mighty wave of his soul force.

But the moment the energy reached Davious—it shattered like glass against a wall of invisible pressure.

“Pathetic,” Davious scoffed. “This is the strength of a Martial Emperor? Disappointing.”

Lord Irrus’s pupils shrank. He didn’t even flinch… Could he be… at the same realm as me? No—higher?

“Come then,” Davious taunted, his voice like thunder wrapped in silk. “Let’s see what an Emperor can really do.”

Lord Irrus roared and lunged, rod sweeping forward—but before it could land, a golden light surged from Davious’s palm.

The elder froze mid-strike.

A divine weight dropped on his shoulders—his legs buckled—and within seconds, the Head of Ormadock Academy was on his knees, crushed beneath the radiance of Davious’s soul force.

“Senior, please… show mercy,” Lord Irrus choked out, his voice trembling beneath the crushing pressure.

Davious withdrew the energy, and Lord Irrus gasped for breath, barely managing to stand.

“My deepest apologies, Senior…” he bowed low, shamed but alive.

Heddicus stared in awe. My master… forced a Martial Emperor to his knees with a single pulse of energy…

“What can I do for you, Senior?” Irrus asked, still reeling.

“Nothing much,” Davious replied coolly. “I’ll be staying here for a while. I trust that won’t be a problem?”

“O-of course not, Senior,” Irrus coughed, his internal injuries surfacing despite his effort to hide them.

Davious studied him for a moment, then smirked. “You've been stuck at the second stage for ten years now.”

Lord Irrus’s eyes widened. “You… you can tell that just by looking?”

Davious shrugged. “Trivial stuff. But since I’ll be your guest, I suppose I should pay some kind of rent…”

“You don’t need to—” Irrus rushed to object.

“How about I help you break through to the third stage of Martial Emperor realm?” Davious asked, his tone suddenly serious.

The old man trembled. “Y-you’re serious…?”

“Step closer.”

Without hesitation, Lord Irrus obeyed. Davious laid a palm on his head—and golden energy streamed into his body. For a heartbeat, the entire academy felt a surge of pressure as green light erupted from Lord Irrus’s core.

A blast of soul force exploded from him—powerful, refined, complete.

“Hahahaha! I’ve broken through… I’ve finally made it! Thank you, Senior! Thank you!”

Tears streaked the elder’s cheeks as he knelt again, this time out of gratitude.

Davious grinned. “You might want to stand before your students see their mighty Head on his knees.”

Lord Irrus scrambled up, wiping his face in embarrassment. “Forgive me. Senior… may I ask your name?”

“Davious,” he replied simply.

“Then I shall address you as Lord Davious.”

“Call me whatever you wish. I've paid my rent,” Davious said with a grin. “Now it’s your turn to host.”

“Of course, Lord Davious. Please—follow me,” Irrus said with a respectful nod.

As they stepped through the gates, Heddicus remained frozen for a second, staring at his master with admiration burning in his eyes.

So this… this is the true power of my Master…