At ten years old, Alexander Magnus stood at the peak of the Grandmaster Realm.
A feat beyond comprehension.
For ordinary cultivators, reaching the Grandmaster Realm required centuries of effort. Even among the supreme geniuses of the Great Clans, reaching this level before fifty was an achievement worthy of legends.
Yet here he was—ten years old, standing at the very threshold of breaking into the Saint Realm.
The world had taken notice.
The training grounds, in the heart of the Tyrannos clan's Celestial War Grounds, dozens of powerful warriors stood, watching as Alexander faced off against the elite disciples of the clan.
The opponent before him was Drayven, a seasoned Grandmaster at the ninth level. He was a rising star, forty years old, and had honed his battle techniques for decades.
He stood, armed with a Heaven-Tempering Blade, golden energy surging around his body.
Alexander, however, was unarmed.
"Forgive me, young master," Drayven said, bowing slightly, "but I will not hold back."
Alexander's gaze was calm.
"You will need more than your full strength."
Drayven attacked first.
The air cracked as his blade descended, splitting the sky itself. His movements were flawless, honed through countless battles.
Yet—Alexander did not move.
His feet remained planted. His hands remained at his sides.
Then—BOOM!
The moment Drayven's blade reached him, an invisible force shattered the attack upon impact.
Drayven stumbled backward, eyes wide in disbelief.
"What…?"
A passive Overlord Saint Aura.
Alexander took a single step forward, and the entire arena trembled.
He lifted a single hand—and vanished.
CRACK!
Before anyone could react, he reappeared behind Drayven, his hand gently tapping the warrior's shoulder.
Drayven froze.
A moment later, his entire battle armor shattered. The force alone sent him flying out of the arena, crashing through multiple layers of reinforced formations.
The entire training ground fell into silence.
Even the elders who were watching stiffened.
One of them muttered, "…At ten years old… he surpasses even our war champions."
Inside the Clan
Magnus Tyrannos stood at the highest balcony of the clan's war palace, arms crossed as he watched his son from afar.
His eyes held neither surprise nor doubt.
"This is only the beginning," he murmured.
Beside him, a group of Tyrannos Clan generals stood, their expressions mixed with awe and concern.
One elder, Grand Elder Oric, spoke cautiously.
"My Lord… if his growth continues at this rate, even the Saints of the Upper Heavens will begin to take action."
Magnus Tyrannos' gaze turned cold.
"Let them."
Seraphina Celestia's Private Discussion
Elsewhere, Seraphina Celestia sat in a sacred chamber, speaking with a group of veiled figures—the Celestial Council of the Primordial Sanctum.
One of the celestial elders, a being with golden eyes and divine robes, spoke with unease.
"He has reached the limits of mortality at ten. If he steps into the Saint Realm, the higher heavens will not remain idle."
Seraphina remained composed.
"I am aware."
Another celestial elder hesitated. "Lady Seraphina… will you restrict his growth?"
For the first time, her gaze turned sharp.
"Do you wish to issue a decree to a force beyond the heavens?"
Silence.
None dared to speak further.
The Outside World Reacts
Across the realms, the name Alexander Magnus had already begun spreading.
The Celestial Zenith Clan
Atop the floating Celestial Spire, Lord Zenithius gazed upon an ancient mirror, watching the boy's recent battle.
"…At ten years old, he has surpassed all recorded prodigies."
Beside him, Astra Zenith, his daughter and the Celestial Clan's supreme prodigy, furrowed her brows.
"He is already beyond mortals. If he enters the Saint Realm…"
Lord Zenithius's expression hardened.
"We must decide soon—will we oppose him, or will we offer him a place among the Celestials?"
The Abyssal Dominion – House of Xeranoth
In the dark abyssal palaces, Demon Lord Xeranoth let out a slow, chilling laugh.
"A child who has broken mortality itself at ten…"
His son, Malakar Xeranoth, scowled. "If he reaches the Saint Realm, he will threaten even the Abyssal Kings."
Xeranoth's crimson eyes gleamed.
"…Send the Hunters."
The Beast Monarchs – The Draconis Lineage
The Golden Dragon Monarch stirred once more, his colossal form shifting in the heart of the Beast Sovereign Mountains.
"…He is accelerating faster than the heavens allow."
The great beast lords awaited his decree.
But instead, the ancient dragon let out a deep, rumbling chuckle.
"Then let us see how the heavens will react."
Assassins in the Night
That evening, the next assassin arrived.
Unlike before, this one was not mortal.
The Phantom Sovereign, a celestial-ranked assassin from the Ethereal Void Sect, descended upon the Tyrannos Citadel under the cover of shadows.
His mission was clear.
Erase the boy before he shatters the balance.
He moved silently, slipping past layers of divine barriers, formations, and detection seals.
Within moments, he stood inside Alexander's personal training chamber, where the young overlord meditated.
The assassin's fingers curled, his divine dagger gleaming with the power of Absolute Nihility—a technique that could erase even Saint Souls permanently.
He struck.
The dagger pierced forward—only to freeze inches before touching Alexander's skin.
The assassin's entire body locked in place.
Alexander opened his eyes.
The chamber was filled with an invisible force. A raw, terrifying authority that bound the assassin's very existence.
A single thought from Alexander—and the assassin's body began to collapse in on itself.
His bones shattered, his divine energy collapsed, and his very soul began to break apart.
For the first time in his existence, the Phantom Sovereign felt true terror.
"…What are you?" he choked out.
Alexander stared at him—calm, emotionless.
Then he spoke.
"I am Alexander Magnus Tyrannos."
With a mere thought, the assassin was erased.
Not killed.
Erased.