THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

Lord Hilton stood near the goddess statue, his anger simmering beneath the surface, dark crimson aura erupting from his body in a terrifying display of raw power. The shockwave it sent reverberated throughout the estate, shaking the very ground. His fury was unbound, each pulse of energy a reminder of his failure. He should have seen this coming.

David had been growing suspiciously strong for some time now, and instead of questioning it, Hilton had allowed himself to believe that things were under control. He had foolishly thought his son would confide in him, reveal the source of this newfound strength. But now, David had reached the goddess statue—the one monument no one in the De Gor lineage had ever touched.

"Damn it," Hilton cursed under his breath, his aura swelling again, threatening to explode in another violent outburst.

Before the growing storm of his power could be unleashed, two figures descended from the sky, crashing down in a burst of dust and rubble. They were followed by a third, a mage encased in a protective sphere of magical seals, gently hovering and landing beside the other two.

As the dust settled, Elder Tyron, Elder Scroll, and Mage Ray stood at Lord Hilton's side, surveying the chaos their Earl had wrought. The ground beneath them was scorched, cracks running through the earth like veins from the impact of Hilton's rage.

"Where's the boy, my Lord?" Elder Tyron asked, glancing around for any sign of David.

The Earl sighed deeply, his aura still crackling with residual energy. "He's gone," Hilton said, his voice low and dangerous.

Elder Scroll furrowed his brow. "Gone? What do you mean?"

Hilton's gaze shifted to the statue of the goddess, his face twisted with frustration. "A dark beam shot down from the sky. It took him," he explained, his aura flaring momentarily before he regained control. The words were heavy, weighed down by the mystery of it all. He had never believed in divine intervention for a long time after the silence, not truly. Yet here he was, grappling with the impossible.

"It can't be… could she have taken David?" Elder Scroll's voice was filled with uncertainty as he gestured toward the statue of the goddess.

The De Gors, though they acknowledged the goddess, were not fervent believers. To them, the gods and sovereigns were relics of myth and legend, stories passed down from ancient times. Yet now, faced with the inexplicable, doubt crept into their minds. Experience more tales on m v|l e'm,p| y- r

"It may be possible," Hilton muttered, his eyes narrowing as he studied the statue more closely. He had never questioned the origin of the monument, only its purpose in testing the participants of the trials. But now, his son had been swept up in something far greater, something far more dangerous. The cursed monument, which had always seemed benign, had suddenly become a harbinger of doom.

His thoughts raced, trying to piece together what little he knew. He turned sharply toward Mage Ray, who stood deep in thought. "Mage!" Hilton barked, snapping the man out of his reverie.

Mage Ray blinked, quickly bowing. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Can the archons of the magic spire retrieve my son?" Hilton demanded, his tone sharp, as if already expecting the answer but needing to hear it out loud.

Mage Ray winced slightly at the mention of the spire's archons, powerful mages whom Hilton referred to with blatant disrespect. He composed himself quickly, choosing his words carefully. "It's… unlikely, my Lord. The line between magic and divinity is vast and difficult to traverse. The powers involved here are beyond the reach of even the most skilled of our kind."

Hilton nodded slowly, as though confirming his own thoughts. His fists clenched at his sides, frustration mounting. He knew the distinction between magic and the divine, but he had hoped for some sliver of hope, something that could bring his son back. With a resigned sigh, he turned back to the group, his decision already made.

"Prepare the teleportation beam," Hilton ordered, his voice resolute.

Elder Scroll looked at him, bewildered. "Why, my Lord?" he asked, curious but also concerned about what Hilton was planning.

Hilton's eyes hardened. "If my son does not return by sunrise tomorrow, I will go to the nation of Sanctaria Principal myself."

The declaration sent a shockwave through the group. Mage Ray's eyes widened in disbelief, and even the usually stoic Elder Tyron stiffened at the name. Sanctaria Principal was not a place anyone ventured lightly. It was a nation of zealots, those who still worshiped the ancient gods and sovereigns with dangerous fervor. Their rituals were archaic, their beliefs radical. They were known for their fanaticism, and dealing with them was as risky as it was unpredictable.

"My Lord," Elder Tyron said cautiously, "are you certain you wish to involve those lunatics? Their ways are—"

Hilton raised a hand to silence him, his expression unwavering. He placed a firm hand on Tyron's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "I am certain," Hilton replied, his voice cold but filled with determination. "They worship the goddess among the few approved sovereigns. If anyone has the knowledge or power to retrieve David, it's them." His gaze swept across the faces of his elders and Mage Ray. "David is the banner of this family. We will use every means at our disposal to bring him back."

The men around him bowed in agreement, though their minds still raced with uncertainty and fear. None of them liked the idea of dealing with Sanctaria Principal, but Hilton's will was ironclad. They would follow him, even into the heart of madness if that's what it took.

Mage Ray, though shaken, offered his compliance with a slight nod. He could sense the tension in the air, the gravity of the situation. But one thing was clear—David's disappearance was more than a family matter. It was tied to forces they barely understood. Whether divine or arcane, something far greater than any of them was at play. As the preparations began, Lord Hilton's mind remained focused on one thing: finding David, no matter the cost.

He cast one last glance at the goddess statue, its silent form looming over them all. Whatever power had claimed David, Hilton would ensure that it released him. The sun would rise soon, and with it, the dawn of a new battle.

Back at the gathering hall, the air was thick with confusion and chaos. Nobles murmured in hushed tones, their eyes wide as they stared at the massive hole the Earl had created while chasing after David. The once elegant hall now stood in disarray, the destruction a stark contrast to the sophistication it once held. Ornate chandeliers swayed slightly, dust still settling from the Earl's violent exit, and the morning sun poured through the cracks in the ceiling.

"What in the goddess' name just happened?" one noble exclaimed, his voice filled with both awe and fear.

"He broke the record… and then vanished?" another noble muttered, still trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

"Do you think it's the work of a sovereign?" a younger noblewoman asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The room was buzzing with theories. Some believed it was divine intervention, others whispered about ancient magic no longer understood by mortals. The De Gors had always been a family bound to legend, but this—David's sudden disappearance after such an extraordinary feat—was something beyond myth. It felt like the start of something dangerous, something uncontrollable.

At the far end of the hall, seated away from the commotion, Shuan calmly sipped his wine. He had not joined the frantic discussions, his mind already racing with his own conclusions. His cold eyes flicked toward the gaping hole in the ceiling, and he took another sip, letting the rich flavor of the wine coat his tongue before setting the glass down gently.

"This isn't good," he muttered to himself, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow.

David's display of breaking through the realm of Master-ranked swordsman in mere moments was unprecedented, a feat that should have been impossible. Not only had he ascended in rank during the trial, but there had also been the unmistakable interference of a sovereign—something that sent a chill down Shuan's spine. Sovereigns rarely interfered in mortal affairs, and when they did, it was never without reason.

Shuan's master, the one orchestrating the Great Cataclysm, would not be pleased to hear about this development. David, a mere boy in their eyes, had suddenly become far more dangerous.

Shuan swirled the last of his wine, lost in thought. He had underestimated David, as had many others. The boy's potential was unlike anything he had seen before, and if left unchecked, he could become a significant obstacle in their plans. Shuan knew the only course of action was to elevate David to the status of a primary threat. If the boy had the backing of a sovereign, then he could not be ignored any longer.

With a sigh, Shuan drained the last of his wine, the bitterness of the situation reflected in the final drop of the drink. He placed the glass down with a soft clink, his decision made. He would plead with his master to regard David as the main threat to their work in bringing about the Great Cataclysm. Whatever power had taken David, whatever force was at play, it had to be neutralized.

Rising from his seat, Shuan cast one final glance at the nobles, still lost in their frantic theories and discussions. They were too distracted by the mystery of it all, too blind to see the true danger unfolding before them. But Shuan saw it clearly now. David was no longer just an adversary—he was the potential undoing of everything they had worked for.

As he turned and quietly left the hall, Shuan's mind was already racing with plans, calculations, and the weight of the war that was silently brewing. David's fate, now entwined with that of gods and mortals, was far from over. And Shuan knew that before long, the real battle would begin.