THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

The grand hall shimmered with opulence, a magnificent display of wealth and power that radiated from every corner. Golden chandeliers hung from the high, arched ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The walls, lined with intricate tapestries depicting the glorious history of the De Gor lineage, whispered tales of triumph and honor.

In the heart of this vast chamber, circular tables—adorned with lavish cloths embroidered with silver and gold—were arranged in perfect harmony. At each table sat nobles, draped in their finest silks and brocades, their every gesture dripping with the practiced grace of those accustomed to privilege.

The gentle hum of conversation filled the hall, but it was underlined by an air of anticipation. Servants moved gracefully between the tables, their footsteps silent on the marble floor as they refilled goblets with fine wines and replenished platters with exotic fruits—purple grapes so ripe they seemed ready to burst, golden apples that glistened in the morning light, and pears that carried the faint scent of honey.

At the front of the hall, on a raised platform, stood the centerpiece of the morning feast—a long dining table brimming with an array of delicacies. The table was a testament to the county's wealth and prosperity from its exports, overflowing with vibrant fruits, pastries filled with sweet creams, and pitchers of freshly squeezed juices. Every item seemed to have been chosen not only for its taste but for its ability to impress the highborn guests who graced the hall.

At the center of this grand platform sat the Earl of Aethelwarin County, his presence commanding the room. His greying dark hair and the fine lines on his face told the story of a man who had weathered countless storms, yet his posture remained regal, his gaze unwavering. Beside him, the noble elders—his trusted advisors and closest confidants—sat with an air of quiet dignity. All eyes were fixed on the massive magical screen that hovered above the hall, shimmering with ethereal light.

The screen was an enchanting marvel, casting a soft, pulsating glow over the room as it projected the image of the trial grounds. This was not just any trial—it was David De Gor's final and most significant test, the moment that would determine his place not just in the noble hierarchy, but in the annals of Aethelwarin's future. Every noble seated in the hall understood the gravity of the event, for David was no longer the disgraced son. He had earned their attention, their respect, and now, their scrutiny.

The Earl shifted slightly in his seat, his hand resting on the edge of the armrest, fingers tapping rhythmically as if to release the tension brewing beneath his calm exterior. He had watched David's journey with a mixture of pride and caution. This final trial was not just about physical prowess—it was about proving one's worth in the face of a god. He could feel the weight of the room pressing down on him, the collective hopes and judgments of the nobles who awaited David's fate.

"Will the boy rise to the occasion?" Elder Luviania beside him murmured, his voice barely audible above the quiet chatter of the hall. His silver eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked briefly toward the Earl before returning to the screen.

The Earl didn't respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as the scene on the screen shifted.

David stood alone in the midst of a towering forest, surrounded by ancient trees whose heights seemed to pierce the heavens. Their trunks, thick with age, were covered in sprawling vines and moss that gave the entire woodland an ethereal quality.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, and the rustling of leaves was the only sound in the otherwise deafening silence. This was the same forest where he and the other participants had faced the first trial, but this time was different. He was alone, standing in a new direction, far removed from the artificial dungeon they had previously traversed.

Before he had been teleported here, David was briefed on the final trial. On the surface, it seemed simple enough. For generations, the strongest participant of the coming-of-age ceremony was tasked with confronting a monument—an ancient statue erected as a sacred gift to the goddess of preservation. The challenge? To reach the statue from a distance of 300 meters. But, as David well knew, nothing in these trials was as easy as it appeared.

Glancing around, David's gaze fell on the distant shimmer of the statue, its form barely visible through the dense fog that clung to the forest floor. It seemed almost close enough to touch, yet every instinct screamed that this would be no straightforward task. Taking a deep breath, he began his approach, his steps cautious yet steady.

In the grand gathering hall far away, the Earl of Aethelwarin watched with a knowing smile playing on his lips. "He's entered Her domain," he remarked, his voice tinged with an air of satisfaction. The nobles seated beside him nodded in agreement, their eyes glued to the magical screen that projected David's journey. They all knew the implications of this trial—the domain belonged to the goddess of preservation herself, and it was no mere obstacle course.

David had only moved a mere ten meters when he felt it—a sudden and overwhelming pressure that bore down on him like a crushing weight. It felt as though he had been plunged into the depths of an endless ocean, the immense force threatening to drag him down. Each step became exponentially harder as the air around him thickened, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

In the hall, the spectators watched with bated breath. They knew the specifics of the trial and the insurmountable challenge David was about to face. The Earl, seated with quiet authority, was the only person in his generation to have made it within 50 meters of the statue, still separated by a daunting 250 meters. Many had tried, but few ever got close to the statue. It was not just about physical strength or stamina; this trial tested something far deeper.

David grimaced as the invisible pressure intensified. His mind raced, desperate for a solution. At this rate, he wouldn't even make it halfway. Just when it seemed like the weight would force him to his knees, an idea sparked in his mind. Without hesitation, he summoned his inventory, focusing on one particular item that would save him in dire situations forthcoming.

Nightveil Embrace—a sleek, black suit woven from living shadow fabric—materialized beneath his clothes. The instant it wrapped around him, David felt a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. The crushing force lightened, allowing him to draw breath more freely.

"Best purchase I've ever made," he thought, grateful for the brief reprieve.

"[You have used Living Shadow Fabric,]"

the system announced with its usual neutral tone. But before David could even relish his relief, another message flashed across his vision in crimson letters.

"[THE LINGERING PRESENCE OF A SOVEREIGN HAS CLASHED WITH NIGHTVEIL EMBRACE'S DIVINE ASPECTS!]"

David's heart sank. "What the hell is happening?" he muttered, confusion creeping into his voice. Another window quickly followed, its warning even more urgent.

"[THE SOVEREIGN'S PRESENCE HAS BECOME HOSTILE.]"

"[WARNING: TURN BACK IMMEDIATELY!]"

"Sheit!" David cursed under his breath, realizing the gravity of the situation. What he thought would be his trump card had suddenly become a double-edged sword. The pressure around him, which had momentarily eased, now returned with vengeance. It was as if the very air was angry with him, a palpable wrath pressing down on every inch of his body.

With each step forward, the force grew worse. It wasn't just physical anymore—he could feel the presence of something ancient, something powerful, bearing down on him. His heart pounded in his chest, the pressure threatening to crush not only his body but his very will.

Elder Scroll shook his head grimly as he watched David struggle beneath the immense pressure. "He's reached his limits," he muttered, a note of resignation in his voice. His gaze flicked to the other Elders, the weight of the challenge settling heavily in the room.

Elder Maison, however, was not so easily swayed. Slamming his hand down onto the armrest of his chair, he declared with conviction, "I have faith in that boy!" His words rang out, though the nervous twitch of his brow betrayed his inner turmoil. He was acutely aware that even David's elder brother had succumbed before reaching the Earl's marked distance. Still, Maison's pride would not let him concede so quickly.

Among the gathered nobles, Shuan watched with narrowed eyes, his face betraying none of the satisfaction stirring within him. He had initially seen potential in David, a potential that had been dangerous to his own interests. But now, seeing David falter under the immense pressure, Shuan's doubts crystallized. "Perhaps I overestimated him," Shuan mused, his lips curving into a faint smirk. As David's every step grew more labored, Shuan felt vindicated, the murmurs of the nobles echoing his own sinister thoughts. Experience more content on m v|l e'm,p| y- r