"Father, why did you summon me?" Katia, donned in her battle armor, confidently entered the underground palace, looking up at her father, who gazed at her kindly from above.
"Katia, how has your training been going? How do you feel when sparring with other Titans?"
"Pretty well. Other than the Titans older than me, no one can defeat me," Katia answered calmly, with no hint of boasting in her tone, as if it were a matter of course.
"Good. Keep refining your skills, but don't neglect your training in technique. As for power, don't pursue it too eagerly. Let it grow naturally." Hearing his daughter's response, Muria nodded in satisfaction. Out of his three daughters, the youngest—who was the last to reveal her true name—was the one he worried about the least.
As for the other two, Gladys might look sweet and innocent on the outside, but she was far from easy to handle. The fact that she managed to turn her younger sister into a sheep and regularly "sheared wool" from her proved that. Still, Muria took some comfort in the fact that this scheming daughter always found a way to send the benefits of her mischief to her brother.
Then there was Tiffany, the most troublesome of them all. Her dragon bloodline dominated her personality, amplifying the typical dragon flaws—greed, laziness, arrogance, and dominance. Muria had spent a lot of effort educating her because, as much as he wanted to spoil his daughters, he couldn't let them become ruined by their privilege.
To raise a daughter, one must instill humility and integrity, teach them to know shame and avoid evil, while keeping a righteous spirit. Muria wanted his daughters to be wise, cultured, and worldly—far from the spoiled princesses who never touched hard work.
"I understand," Katia nodded.
"This time, the main reason I called you here is to ask you to help your brother resolve his partner situation."
"Hasn't he already gotten engaged to that princess from the Orlando Empire?" Katia asked, surprised.
"Hmm? Where did you hear that?"
"Tiffany told me."
"Then all of Synaps probably knows by now." Hearing that the news had spread through Tiffany, Muria rubbed his forehead in frustration.
"The princess he's engaged to is only a concubine, not his true partner. Your brother's heart is actually set on a Titan. However, I don't know which one it is, so I'm hoping you can help me find out."
"A Titan?" Katia seemed confused.
"Yes. After your brother's strength reached a certain level, I often sent him to the Titan Isles to spar with other Titans. During that time, he met many female Titans. It wouldn't be surprising if he developed feelings for one of them."
"Alright, I'll help him figure it out," Katia agreed.
"Here, this is a list of all the young female Titans he has come into contact with," Muria said, handing her a jade stone. "There are sixteen names on this list. Investigate casually, no need to make it too obvious."
"Have you had this all planned out for a while, Father?" Katia asked, looking at the list in her hand.
"Not exactly," Muria replied. "It's more of an unexpected bonus. When I arranged for him to fight Titans, I had hoped something like this might happen. If your brother doesn't choose any of the female Titans, then your mother will start introducing him to Seraph descendants."
"So, you'll still respect his choice," Katia nodded in understanding. "Father, I have a sparring match in ten minutes. I should go."
"Keep an eye on your brother's affairs. His future depends on you," Muria reminded her.
"I will."
…
Aeolus had chosen an endless cycle of battles. After his father had appeared before him twice, Aeolus was beginning to understand his true identity, even though his father hadn't directly told him. He also had an inkling of what Muria expected from him, but it seemed that confirmation would only come after he broke through to the Legendary rank.
In order to reach that breakthrough, Aeolus decided to fight the vicious monsters scattered across the world. He searched for these creatures through various channels, seeking those naturally cruel and dangerous, hoping that through the life-and-death struggles, he could unleash his potential and shatter the barrier to becoming a Legend.
This, of course, was no easy task. Aeolus had already reached the peak of Soul Will, having condensed an astonishing 108 Soul Will rings—a feat practically unheard of in history. Through these rings, Aeolus had indirectly realized just how terrifying his father was. The number of Soul Will rings one could form wasn't something that could be increased through effort; it was mostly determined at birth.
In his endless battles, Aeolus no longer contented himself with fighting those at the Soul Will level. He began to challenge Legendary-level monsters, constantly pushing his limits to break free from the chains holding him back.
…
"You don't need to rush, Aeolus," Muria murmured as he watched his son through a magical screen. In the scene, Aeolus, armed with a spear and sword, was fighting on a desolate, death-filled land. Rivers of lava spewed from cracks in the earth, and toxic gases spread through the air. It was a lifeless world, full of savage demons who thrived on slaughter—it was the Abyss.
"He's heading to the Abyss to fight demons, hoping to break through to Legend, right?" Mikaela appeared beside Muria as she observed Aeolus in the light screen.
"Are you going to bring him back?" Muria asked, glancing at his wife with a smile.
"If you want to make a move, go ahead. I won't interfere."
"This is his choice. I won't step in either," Muria replied, shaking his head.
"Aren't you worried he might die?"
"I'm not," Muria answered without hesitation. The formation he had placed on Aeolus as a child was not just for sealing his bloodline. It also served as protection for his soul. The seal would suppress Aeolus' power, but it would also keep him safe from mortal danger.
"This kid has even gone to join the Blood War!" Muria exclaimed, watching Aeolus as he forced a hag to lead him to a powerful demon commander. It didn't take much guessing to figure out Aeolus' plan.
At this point, Aeolus had honed his skills to the highest level possible for his current strength. He could even challenge some lower-tier Legends and had already made a name for himself on several continents by killing Legends while still in the Soul Will stage.
But only by joining the Blood War—a brutal meat grinder—could Aeolus face enough pressure to unlock his true potential.
Without much delay, Aeolus used the hag as a guide to find a powerful demon lord. Soon, he was standing atop a steel fortress, commanding a group of creatures who had come to the Abyss for various reasons to join the Blood War.
…
"Go to Hell, now. My son is fighting in the Blood War there. You know what to do." In the grand imperial palace, the mighty emperor looked down at Meiles, a pit fiend who was kneeling before him, having reached the rank of being capable of usurping a Hell lordship.
"Master, rest assured. Before I fall, no demon will harm the prince!" Meiles swore solemnly.
"Go." Muria extended his hand, opening a spatial rift that led directly to Hell. A hot, sulfurous breeze swept through the rift, mixed with sinister energy. But the protective array of the palace quickly purified the evil aura.
Without hesitation, Meiles leaped into the rift, marveling at the ever-growing power of his master.
…
"I can feel it—the barrier is loosening!" Aeolus stood atop a blood-soaked steel fortress, fending off waves of demons. Their endless assault had overwhelmed the devil forces defending the fortress, leaving them hanging by a thread.
Amidst the chaos, Aeolus, clad in brilliant gold and blue armor, was a beacon of hope. Wielding a spear in one hand and a sword in the other, he slaughtered the demons that came at him in droves. Their bodies piled into a mountain beneath his feet, and rivers of their blood ran around him.
Yet, despite his staggering kill count, the demons kept coming, undeterred by death.
Standing atop the mound of corpses, Aeolus decapitated a six-armed serpent demon that had charged at him. He entered a strange state, where his main consciousness seemed to drift elsewhere, and his movements were guided purely by instinct. In this trance-like state, a towering, indistinct shadow gradually took form behind him…
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