Asher was preparing himself for the challenge Aurelion had set before him.
"Y-Young master, are you certain of this?" Emilia's voice trembled with unease.
Asher gave her a calm smile. "Don't worry. I won't die."
With steady steps, he entered the training ground. The atmosphere was suffocating—every sibling, every council member, every attendant had gathered. Their eyes followed him, some filled with worry, others with grim resignation. At the center, tall and unyielding, stood Aurelion—the man who carved his name into history as the Patriarch of the Draker house.
He was no ordinary ruler. He had crushed every rival house that stood in his way, silenced the royal family when they dared to oppose him, and ruled with a stubbornness so absolute that even kings bent their knees. Only one house, Valcren, remained untouched—not out of mercy, but respect. No one in the entire kingdom dared to cross him.
"Are you ready, Asher?" Aurelion's voice boomed as he stepped onto the stage.
"Yes, I am," Asher replied firmly.
"Asher, you don't have to do this!" Lilith's desperate cry broke through, her eyes wide with fear.
"It's alright, sister." Asher's gentle smile didn't falter.
Aurelion's gaze sharpened. "Do you despise my daughter so much that you'd risk your life just to break the engagement?"
Asher's expression hardened, anger flashing in his eyes. "It's not hatred. She simply isn't worthy of marrying me."
His words struck Rose like a blade. Tears welled in her eyes, her chest heavy with humiliation and despair. To Asher, she was nothing—he spoke with such conviction it left no room for doubt.
Asher turned and walked to Samael, bowing his head slightly. "With your permission, father."
Samael looked at him—not with his usual cold indifference, but with eyes as soft as a clouded sky. "Survive at all cost."
For the first time, the siblings saw warmth in their father's gaze, a glimpse of kindness he had never shown before. Their hearts stirred with quiet joy.
"Let's get started," Asher declared, stepping onto the stage.
Aurelion raised his hand. He did not summon firestorms, lightning bolts, or tides of shadow. He weaved the simplest spell known to mages—Magic Missile.
But in his hand, simplicity became terror.
The mana around him bent, funneled into his finger like water into a whirlpool. Even before the spell formed, the ground beneath his feet cracked from the sheer density of power. Attendants staggered back, clutching their chests as the very air seemed to weigh them down.
A single point of light appeared—no larger than a candle's flame. Yet within that tiny sphere swirled oceans of compressed mana, each rotation releasing invisible waves that rippled across the entire arena.
It was not fire, nor lightning, nor wind. It was raw destruction—pure, unshaped energy, refined into a projectile so condensed that even mountains would crumble before it.
"Do you see, boy?" Aurelion's voice rolled like thunder. "The difference between us is not the spell—it is the hand that wields it."
He flicked his finger.
The missile screamed forward. It did not cut the air—it crushed it. Space warped around its path, dragging dust, banners, even loose stones into its wake. The pressure alone was enough to force weaker spectators onto their knees.
By the time it reached Asher, it was no longer a spell. It was calamity.
The missile struck.
The arena erupted. Stone shattered like glass, flames burst from the friction of compressed energy colliding with resistance, and a shockwave tore outward, battering the protective barriers until they quivered like fragile glass.
Asher braced himself, channeling every drop of magic, every ounce of strength. The impact was devastating. The force drove him back, flames searing his skin, bones cracking under the pressure. His right arm shattered, the smell of scorched flesh filling the air. His screams tore through the silence—yet he stood firm.
Blood spilled from his lips as he staggered, half-conscious. The attack was deflected, but the cost was merciless—half his body charred, bones broken, strength spent.
Yet he remained standing. Even unconscious, his pride and will alone kept him upright.
"The condition has been fulfilled. The engagement is hereby nullified by the Valcren family. The bond between our houses remains as strong as before." Aurelion's voice rang loud and clear across the ground.
Asher's siblings rushed to his side, panic in their eyes, while priests began chanting healing spells over his broken body.
Meanwhile, in the depths of Asher's mind, darkness surrounded him.
"What is this place? Why is it so dark? …Did I die?"