The Invincible Young Master

On the ground, the boy lowered his arm, his body trembling from both fear and exhilaration.

A faint flicker of light danced at his fingertips. The energy hadn't come from within him; it wasn't his own power. But somehow, he had commanded it, bending it to his will.

His lips parted as he stared at his hand in disbelief. What is this power?

The figures above shouted to one another, their confidence shaken. Their movements were frantic now, no longer casual and smug.

Their confidence drained away as they stared in disbelief at the boy below. Where once they saw a frail, crippled figure incapable of even wielding basic energy, now stood someone who exuded an invisible force that demanded their attention and their fear.

The boy raised his arm slowly and waved, his eyes locked on them with a calm intensity that sent shivers down their spines. He uttered a single word:

"Fall."

The word rippled through the air, carrying a power that defied explanation.

Above, the men felt the shift immediately. The energy they relied on to remain aloft turned chaotic, slipping out of their control.

A sudden force yanked them downward, and in an instant, they plummeted to the charred earth below.

Their landing sent up plumes of ash and debris. Groaning, they scrambled to their feet, their faces pale and their movements unsteady.

"What just happened?" one of them muttered, his voice shaking as he clutched his side.

"We can't control it," another said, his hands trembling as he reached out, only to feel the energy slip through his grasp like sand.

Panic flickered across their faces as they looked toward the boy.

He began walking toward them, each step slow and deliberate. It wasn't his physical stature that unnerved them, it was the oppressive presence that seemed to thicken the air with every step.

"Stay back!" the elderly man shouted, desperation cracking his voice. He thrust his arm forward, releasing a crescent-shaped blast of energy from a treasure that roared through the air toward the boy.

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The boy raised a hand without hesitation, his voice calm but absolute.

"Disperse."

The energy attack unraveled before it reached him, its brilliance dissolving into harmless wisps of mist.

Another man growled in frustration, bringing out his own treasure. "Don't let him get close!"

Together, they unleashed a barrage of attacks, rays of light, slicing arcs, and waves of crackling energy, all converging on the boy.

The boy didn't flinch. For those attacks could not reach him.

One by one, the attacks disintegrated, their power fading into the ambient air as if the energy itself obeyed the boy's will.

The men exchanged frantic glances. This wasn't just power, it was control, something beyond anything they understood.

He came to a stop a few paces away, his gaze steady and cold as he looked down at the trembling men.

His voice dropped, calm yet with authority. "Why are you still struggling?"

The question hung in the air like a blade ready to strike. Before any of them could respond, his voice grew sharper, and reser.

"Kneel."

The air around them seemed to constrict, pressing down with an invisible force. Their knees buckled, slamming into the scorched earth as though the very world demanded their submission.

"What is this…?" one of them stammered, his eyes wide with terror. He clawed at the ground as if trying to steady himself, but the pressure didn't relent.

The boy stood over them, silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. He hadn't planned these words or actions, they seemed to come naturally, as if the power coursing through him guided his instincts.

One of the men dared to lift his gaze, his face pale and drenched in sweat. "What… what are you?"

The boy didn't answer immediately. His eyes shifted upward, toward the sky, as though searching for something far beyond what these men could see.

"The path to the immortal world…" he murmured. "Is it still there?"

The men exchanged nervous glances before one stuttered, "N-no… it's gone…"

"I see." He straightened, his expression calm. "…Once I find that path, I'll destroy the immortal world."

The declaration struck them like a hammer. Terror rippled through their ranks, their bodies trembling under the weight of his words.

Suddenly, one man broke down, his fear overwhelming him. "Please! Let us go! We swear… we'll never appear before you again!"

"Yes!" another joined in, his voice frantic. "We'll leave this place, this continent if that's what you want. Spare us, and we'll vanish forever!"

The rest echoed the pleas, their voices a chorus of desperation. "Mercy! We were only ordered."

But the boy ignored the plea.

With a flick of his hand, he released the energy around them. It surged into their bodies, and the very power they had once wielded turned against them.

Their screams filled the air as their forms began to swell, the uncontrolled energy tearing them apart from within.

One by one, their bodies burst into clouds of crimson mist, their existence erased in an instant.

When the last scream faded, silence descended over the scorched ground. The boy stood alone, the faint flicker of power still lingering at his fingertips.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady pulse of the deity's core, the foreign rhythm that had replaced his own heart.

He flexed his fingers, watching as traces of light danced around them. He could not summon energy like a normal ascendant.

His body lacked the foundation, the core necessary for such feats. Yet, he had something greater, a power that bent the natural energy of the world to his will, a force that seemed to defy the very laws of existence.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"What kind of being was that deity?" he wondered.

He stood amidst the desolation, his gaze sweeping over the scorched land. Burned corpses lay scattered, their faces still hauntingly familiar, etched forever in his mind.

His gaze stopped when his eyes fell upon two bodies lying side by side. Though the flames had taken their features, He recognized them instantly.

They were the parents of the girl who had smiled so brightly, the one he had promised to protect.

His steps faltered as the weight of the scene bore down on him. Dropping to his knees beside them, he clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms. His teeth ground together so hard it felt like they might crack.

"If only…" he muttered, his voice trembling and barely audible over the faint crackling of dying flames. "If only I'd been stronger…"

Guilt surged through him, heavier than the smoke-filled air. How could he ever face her? How could he meet her eyes and admit he had failed to save the only family she had left?

But grief could not hold him.

He forced himself to his feet, his resolve stiffening. There was no one else to bury the dead. No one else to give them the dignity they deserved.

Dropping to his knees once more, the boy began to dig. With bare hands, he clawed at the blackened soil, ignoring the pain as it tore at his already raw skin. Each handful of earth he moved felt like a penance, a feeble attempt to atone for his failure.

The faces of the villagers flashed through his mind as he worked. Their names whispered in his thoughts, a mournful hymn that refused to let him forget.

By the time he laid the last body to rest, the sun had slipped below the horizon.

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He stood, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon.

"This won't end here," he murmured.

...

The boy, consumed by grief and guilt, goes on to unleash his fury upon the school.

With power born of anguish and divine wrath, he razed it to the ground. No wall remained standing. His vengeance was swift and merciless, a storm that even ascendants dared not defy.

It is said that the boy who had once been weak and broken gained immortality after merging with the deity's core.

Yet, immortality brought no peace to his soul. The echoes of loss and failure haunted him, driving him to wander the mortal world in search of that bridge to the immortal world.

He sought it not for glory, but for vengeance, against the immortal beings who had taken everything from him, and for the girl he could not protect.

…

As the voice faded into whispers, a soft sound of clapping echoed through a dimly lit hall.

The old man had concluded his story.