Aeren observes the stage carefully. The remaining crowd has gone completely still, entirely focused on the quiet standoff between the nobleman and Jarek. He already knows they aren't going to fight; their tension is nothing more than performance. It doesn't surprise him—he expected this from the moment Jarek stepped onto the stage and calmly spoke before thousands. He noticed exactly how the audience had left at precisely the right moment.
Aeren exhales softly. Everyone is waiting for him to react.
Olivia gave him a subtle signal, but Aeren is neither blind nor foolish. He understands their expectations perfectly. From the moment he arrived in the Sacaler Empire, people had been watching him with unusual intensity. Even so, Aeren chose not to react.
He allowed them to follow him.
He allowed them to spy on him.
He senses every presence clearly—especially the man who walked with him earlier while he was shopping for clothes. Aeren almost killed him for spying, but the man's technique and careful restraint saved his life. That alone earned him mercy.
Aeren shifts his gaze to Olivia.
She smiles at him—serene, composed, her violet eyes subtly measuring him.
Aeren returns the smile, maintaining the flawless illusion that he remains unaware of the watchers, the whispers, the expectations pressing in from every direction. He knows everything. He simply chose not to show it.
Aeren stood up from his seat and walked toward the magic glass screen. As he got closer, he heard a voice behind him.
"Where are you going, Aeren?" Olivia asked, excitement evident in her tone. She looked at him with a smile, genuinely curious about his actions. Her eyes remained fixed on Aeren as she imagined him on stage, surrounded by nobles and onlookers. The thought made her blood boil with excitement, envisioning a scenario where she was the only one rushing to him, as his blood dripped onto the ground.
Aeren turned his head to look at her, a smile on his face, unaware of the dark thoughts running through her mind. He sensed that her intentions weren't entirely wholesome. "Don't you want a gift?" he replied, and his words were enough for her to understand his meaning.
With that, Aeren punched the magic glass screen, shattering it into countless fragments that fell like stars from the sky. As he watched the bright screen break apart, he felt a sense of satisfaction from the force of his punch. Aeren glanced down and noticed that the crowd's attention had shifted back to him; their faces were no longer tense, but rather filled with happiness and anticipation.
Aeren's eyes locked onto Jarek as the man leapt from his room into the hall. In that single moment, everyone present saw their chance. Without warning, one man roared, "Now—do it!"
A storm of mana, aura, and magic erupted as every person brandished their weapon, channeling their power and unleashing it toward Aeren.
On the other side of the hall, Jarek sprinted straight for the sword, while Marquis William charged at Aeren. They moved without hesitation, leaving Jarek to claim the weapon freely—as if convinced Aeren posed the threat. They believed this moment was entirely theirs.
Suspended in the air, Aeren watched the chaos unfold with a faint smile. He noticed the incoming barrage of slashes converging on him. With no time to evade, he braced himself, curling his body mid-air to absorb the strikes.
Blades of mana skimmed across his skin, leaving only shallow scratches. He landed flawlessly.
"Perfect," Aeren murmured in self-praise as he touched down, graceful and unharmed. His gaze swept over the circle of men now surrounding him—William among them—and then toward Jarek, who was already gripping the sword.
"At least pretend, would you?" Aeren scoffed lightly. "I went out of my way to act unaware of the situation, yet none of you bothered to play your parts like before."
"Get him! He's injured!" William shouted, his sword hovering near Aeren's shoulder, poised to sever his hand clean off. Excitement gleamed in his eyes as he prepared to strike.
This is it! I'll take his hand—then the reward and the fame will be mine! Hahaha! William's thoughts raced as he closed in on Aeren.
Everyone fears him for nothing. He's right here, helpless. He can't escape without our permission. The higher-ups are terrified of a boy—pathetic. They praise him like some monster, but he doesn't deserve even my respect. William smirked as he watched Aeren remain still, already envisioning their flawless victory.
All around Aeren, weapons drew in closer. Arrows, clubs, swords, knives, axes—every attacker wore the same twisted grin. They reveled in the moment, certain of their triumph as they converged on him.
Aeren saw the swarm closing in, the gleam of steel and mana rushing toward him.
Before they could reach him, he threw a punch into the air—twisting the pressure with his strike and releasing it in a violent shockwave.
Boom—
The force of Aeren's punch shattered the magic, mana, and aura gripping the attackers, sending bodies flying in every direction. But he couldn't avoid the barrage closing in from behind; several weapons pierced into him, driving through his flesh.
Aeren glanced behind him and saw the two attackers whose weapons had barely managed to pierce his skin. Their blades slipped out of his body as he turned. Their eyes were wide with shock—frozen, unable to comprehend how he was still standing.
Aeren stared at them for a few moments, a faint smile curving his lips.
Before he could speak, the two men collapsed to their knees, pressing their heads to the floor in desperation.
"S–Sorry, my lord! We—"
They never finished.
Aeren stepped forward and kicked downward with brutal, decisive force, crushing them like insects. Blood exploded across the pristine white marble, staining it a deep, vivid red.
"Useless," Aeren said coldly, emotionless. "If you truly regretted it, you never would have acted in the first place."
The bodies beneath him were mangled beyond recognition. Their heads had been flattened against the floor, skulls shattered—an ugly, grotesque sight.
Aeren looked at them for a moment more, then turned his gaze back to the hall.
All around him, people lay scattered on the ground—stunned, trembling. Their eyes were wide with disbelief, unable to understand how the situation had changed so suddenly, how they had ended up helpless at his feet.
Just a moment ago, they had been smiling, certain of their victory, excited to finish him off.
Then something had struck them—something they couldn't understand—and now…
Their gaze shifted from Aeren to the ruined corpses. The heads were crushed flat, as if glued to the marble, skulls cracked open and brains scattered across the floor.
Not a soul dared to move.
"What… what is this…?" one man whispered, trembling violently as he stared at the crushed corpses. He couldn't comprehend the way Aeren had killed them—how their heads had been flattened as if stomped into the earth itself.
His knees shook uncontrollably. The realisation that the same fate could befall him sent hot tears streaming down his face. He tried to stand, to run, to escape this nightmare—but his body refused to obey. Fear had swallowed him whole.
Then a scream tore through the hall.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Marquis William shrieked, his voice breaking as he stared first at the mangled corpses, then at his own body. Blood poured from the wound in his chest, a wound that refused to close no matter how much mana he pushed into it desperately.
"What's… happening to me? Why… why isn't it healing?!" he cried, panic rising like fire in his throat.
He was the closest to Aeren's earlier punch—the blow that had shattered the magic, aura, and mana around them. The impact had ruptured William's body in a way no healing magic could repair. Without magic, his wound was simply… mortal.
And he was slowly, steadily losing consciousness.
Aeren watched them all. No sympathy. No warmth. Not even the slightest flicker of emotion.
Their screams meant nothing to him.
He saw despair devouring them piece by piece. He saw their minds breaking under the weight of fear. And he simply stood there—an inverse to their existence, the opposite of everything human.
"You've finally begun to understand," Aeren said, his voice calm, almost soft. "I am not something humans can perceive… nor anything this world can define."
His words slithered into their minds like the whispers of an abyss, deepening their terror, feeding the despair that gnawed at their sanity.
And none of them dared to breathe wrong in his presence.