Chapter 18: The Broken Messenger and The Hidden Prodigy
The dust from Operation Shadowstrike had barely settled when a lone rider bearing the Lin family banner approached the Arkaan gates under a flag of truce. The messenger, a tall man with a permanently sneering expression, was led into the courtyard where Vicky, Theon, and their captains stood.
"I bring words from Lord Lin Beilong," the messenger announced, his voice dripping with false courtesy. "He proposes a ceasefire. Neither family shall attack the other. Let there be peace."
Vicky's eyes narrowed. He knew this was no genuine offer, but a ploy to buy time for the Lin family to recover from their recent losses. "We will consider your lord's... generous offer," Vicky replied, his tone icy. "You may wait for our response."
As the messenger was escorted to a waiting room, Vicky's gaze drifted across the training grounds. His attention was caught by a commotion. A young knight, barely out of his teens, was being brutally beaten by his training partner. The boy, named Rohan, was clumsy, his movements fearful and uncoordinated. He fell hard into the dirt, and the other knights around him laughed cruelly.
"Pathetic," one of them spat. "You're a disgrace to the Arkaan name. You can't even hold a sword properly. You should just leave."
A jolt of shock, like lightning, struck Vicky's core. That boy... Memories from his previous life flooded his mind. That's the 'Crimson Blademaster,' Rohan the Unyielding! The legendary hero who single-handedly held the Crimson Pass against a thousand Naira invaders! In my past life, he was a figure of myth, a warrior of unimaginable power. But... he was never part of our family. What is he doing here? And why is he so weak?
"Enough!" Vicky's voice cracked like a whip across the training ground. The laughing knights immediately fell silent and snapped to attention. Vicky walked over to the trembling Rohan and looked down at him. The boy flinched, expecting more abuse.
But Vicky simply said, "Get up."
Rohan looked up, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.
Vicky turned to Gideon. "From this moment on, Rohan is under my personal command. He will train with me."
A wave of murmurs spread through the onlookers. Why would the Young Master waste his time on this useless boy?
Later, in a private chamber, Vicky had Reman perform a deep diagnostic scan of Rohan's body.
"Just as I thought," Reman's voice echoed with a mix of pity and intrigue. "This boy is not weak. He is cursed."
"Cursed?" Vicky asked, alarmed.
"He suffers from a rare and ancient condition known as the 'Mana-Sealing Veins.' It is a parasitic network within his body that actively devours any mana he tries to cultivate. The more he tries to strengthen himself, the more the veins feed, causing him immense pain and ensuring he remains weak. It is a miracle he is even alive."
Vicky's resolve hardened. The future hero was trapped within a prison of his own flesh. "Can it be cured?"
"It is exceedingly difficult and dangerous," Reman cautioned. "The veins are intertwined with his life force. Removing them requires a delicate, agonizing procedure to burn them away with pure, concentrated mana. The pain could break his mind, and failure would mean his death."
Vicky looked at Rohan, who sat shivering, looking completely broken. He saw not the coward before him, but the unyielding legend he was destined to become.
"We will do it," Vicky declared. "Prepare the ritual."
For three days and three nights, Vicky and Reman worked. Rohan was placed in a circle of powerful mana crystals. As Vicky channeled his energy, guided by Reman's ancient knowledge, searing waves of pure mana flooded into Rohan's body, targeting the parasitic veins.
Rohan screamed. It was a sound of pure, unimaginable agony as the foreign energy burned through his channels. He convulsed, his body threatening to give out, but Vicky did not stop. He poured more energy, focusing with intense precision.
Finally, it was over. A black, smoke-like residue seeped from Rohan's pores—the remains of the incinerated Mana-Sealing Veins. He lay unconscious, drenched in sweat, but breathing steadily.
When he awoke, the fear in his eyes was gone, replaced by a dawning sense of wonder. For the first time in his life, he did not feel the constant, draining hunger inside him. He felt... light. He tentatively reached for a practice sword. This time, his grip was firm. This time, the blade felt like an extension of his own arm.
He looked at Vicky, tears of gratitude and newfound strength streaming down his face. "Young Master... I... I can feel it."
Vicky smiled. "That, Rohan, is just the beginning. Your real training starts now."
Meanwhile, the Lin messenger returned to his estate and delivered Vicky's response to a ceasefire: a single, shattered Lin family sword.
The message was clear. There would be no peace.
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