The air in the courtyard still hummed with a mix of shock and whispers. The fifteen-year-old nobles, defeated and humiliated, retreated from the field, their faces a canvas of disbelief and shame. They had come to mock David William, the perpetual failure, but had instead been handed a resounding, albeit technical, defeat. The whispers were no longer about his incompetence, but about the impossible path he had manifested. "The Multitalent Path… it's real," a young mage muttered, his voice trembling. "A legend… and he just… unlocked it."
David stood alone in the center, his chest rising and falling with exertion. He had won, not by victory, but by proving his worth. The pain of years of mockery had been a constant companion, but now, a flicker of satisfaction warmed his cold heart. He wasn't a hero, not yet. But he was no longer a joke. He was a variable. A genius in a world that had labeled him trash. He could feel the eyes of his parents on him. His mother, Princess Maria, had tears of pride and relief in her eyes, while his father, Duke Joseph, merely watched, his expression unreadable, a complex mix of relief and lingering concern. The cheers from the servants and lower-ranking guests were a sweet balm to his long-suffering pride.
From that day forward, the public scorn diminished. The outright mockery ceased. Yet, in the gilded halls of the aristocracy, the whispers took on a new, more insidious tone. They were no longer about his lack of talent, but about the inherent limitations of his new path. The Multitalent path, a name whispered with reverence in ancient tales, was a relic. No living master existed to guide him. The surviving texts only contained knowledge up to the Transformation Three level. What would he do after that? Would he hit a wall, his potential capped at a level far below what was required to become a true powerhouse? He had proven himself a genius, yes, but could a genius thrive without a mentor, without a roadmap?
To David, these new whispers were just background noise. They didn't matter. He had faced far worse. He retreated once again, not out of shame, but out of a fierce, all-consuming drive. He had tasted power, tasted validation, and it was a hunger that could not be sated. His family's vast library, a treasure trove of knowledge from all five elite paths—Knight, Mage, Fortress Master, and Pill Master—became his sanctuary. He devoured every text, his mind like a sponge, absorbing everything. He was a paradox, a student without a teacher, learning from a thousand masters at once.
His days became a relentless cycle of study and practice. He would spend hours in the grand courtyard, his body now fluid and responsive, perfecting the stances of a Knight. He would then move to the William family's private mana training grounds, weaving complex spells, his mana core finally vibrant and powerful, a swirling galaxy of potential. He would then retreat to a hidden workshop, his hands, once clumsy and useless, now moving with a newfound grace, experimenting with alchemical concoctions and forging powerful talismans. Finally, he would sit in the garden, his mind sharp and focused, drawing intricate formation runes in the dirt, his strategic mind blossoming.
This was his 'Omnitalent' path. A path of perpetual learning and refinement. He wasn't just a practitioner of one art; he was a fusion of all of them. He was a warrior who could cast spells, a mage who could build formations, a strategist who could brew potions, and a healer who could fight on the front lines. The combination was far more powerful than the sum of its parts. His strength grew at a staggering pace, the limitations of his old self shed like a discarded skin. The ridicule he had suffered became the fuel for his ambition. He would not stop. He would not fail. He would climb to the very peak of this world and prove every last one of them wrong.
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Meanwhile, in the grand capital of the Great King Winston, a different story was unfolding. Princess Elisa Winston, a girl of vibrant energy and breathtaking beauty, was on the move. As the only daughter of the Great King, she was a figure of immense power and prestige. Her golden hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of sunlight, and her emerald eyes sparkled with a mischievous, yet kind, light. She was accompanied by her older brother, Prince Arion Winston, a fearsome Knight Transformation Seven, and their mentor, Master Vex, a renowned Mage Transformation Nine.
Their purpose was clear: to travel to the lesser kingdoms and scout for exceptional talent. The Great King Winston was always seeking to bolster its ranks, to find young geniuses who could be nurtured and brought into the fold of their powerful kingdom. The Windless Kingdom, a minor realm known for its relatively stable aristocratic class, was on their itinerary.
The arrival of the Great King Winston's retinue was a major event in the Windless Kingdom. The entire royal court, led by King Reginald Windles himself, was present to welcome them. The air was thick with anticipation and nervous energy. The royals of the Windless Kingdom, including David's parents, stood in a neat line, their expressions a mix of awe and humility. David, now a figure of newfound notoriety, stood with his family, his expression characteristically aloof and cold. He was dressed in a simple, dark tunic, his posture straight, his gaze distant.
When Elisa Winston stepped out of the royal carriage, a hush fell over the crowd. She was a vision. But it wasn't just her beauty; it was her aura. A powerful, yet playful, mana signature that hinted at her immense talent as a Mage. Her brother, Arion, a towering figure clad in silver armor, was like a walking monument of power. His presence alone was enough to make the most formidable Knights in the Windless Kingdom feel insignificant.
Elisa and Arion exchanged pleasantries with King Reginald, their voices melodious and polite, but their eyes were already scanning the crowd, seeking out the next generation of greatness. Their attention was immediately drawn to the young elites gathered, their expressions a mixture of nervous excitement and arrogance.
Elisa, her gaze sweeping across the faces, suddenly paused. Her emerald eyes landed on David. Not because of his talent, which was still unknown to the visitors, but because of the whispers she heard from the Windless Kingdom's court. She had overheard a whispered conversation about "the disgrace of the William family" who had now become "the genius of the Multitalent path." Intrigued, she approached him, a bright, friendly smile on her face.
David, ever the solitary figure, didn't flinch. He merely watched as the beautiful princess walked towards him, her presence filling the air with a faint scent of jasmine and the hum of powerful magic.
"Greetings, young master," Elisa said, her voice like tinkling bells. "I am Elisa Winston. It is a pleasure to meet you. You are… David William, yes? I have heard much about you."
David's expression remained unchanged. "Your Highness," he replied, his voice a low, emotionless monotone. "The pleasure is all yours."
Elisa's smile faltered for a second, taken aback by his coldness. Her brother, Arion, who was standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. This boy was audacious.
"I have heard of your… unique talent," Elisa continued, her tone now more formal, a subtle edge of mockery seeping in. "The Multitalent path, I believe? It is quite the novelty. My mentor, Master Vex, tells me that the path is a relic of the past, with no known record of anyone reaching beyond Transformation Three. A fascinating, if impractical, choice."
The thinly veiled insult hung in the air, a public jab at his new-found glory. The surrounding nobles shifted uncomfortably, and a few of the Windless Kingdom's own young elites, who had been defeated by David, snickered behind their hands. The very genius who had shut them up just a few weeks ago was now being publicly scorned by a princess from a Great Kingdom.
David felt a cold rage blossom in his chest, but his face remained a mask of stoicism. "Perhaps," he said, his eyes meeting hers, a fire now burning deep within their obsidian depths. "But perhaps not. Only time will tell if it is a relic… or the future."
Elisa scoffed, a light, dismissive sound that was far more insulting than a harsh word. "The future? My dear boy, the future is built on solid foundations, not on long-lost legends. The geniuses we are looking for are those who can reach Transformation Ten and beyond. Tell me, do you believe your path can truly take you to that level?" She gestured to her brother, Arion, a clear sign of the immense chasm in power between them. "He is a Transformation Seven Knight. He will soon reach Transformation Eight. And our mentor, Master Vex, is a Transformation Nine Mage. We have a clear path to the peak. You… you have a path to a dead end."
The words were a brutal, public slap. The cheers from his birthday party seemed a distant memory. He had proven himself to his own kingdom, but to the outside world, he was still nothing. Just a boy with a quirky, useless talent.
David did not show his hurt. He simply stared at her, his jaw set. "I will reach the peak," he said, his voice quiet, but filled with a chilling conviction. "And I will do it without a map. And when I get there, I will remember the words of a princess who had the arrogance to judge me based on a legend, and not on the will of a man."
Elisa, taken aback by his chilling intensity, lost her smile entirely. She had intended to be condescending, to put the young noble in his place, but his gaze was unnerving. He was not a boy; he was a statue of pure, unadulterated resolve. She felt a strange mix of annoyance and, for a fleeting second, a flicker of something she couldn't identify. A seed of curiosity, perhaps.
Turning on her heel, she walked away, her demeanor once again one of bright, effortless grace. She had dismissed him, and in her mind, that was that. David William, the interesting little curio, was of no consequence. He was not the talent they were looking for.
As the crowd dispersed, the feeling of victory David had tasted weeks ago was gone. The old bitterness, the familiar ache of humiliation, returned. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He had thought the whispers were gone. He had thought he was on his way to proving them all wrong. But this was a new, more profound humiliation. He wasn't just a disgrace to his family; he was a nobody in the eyes of the wider world. He looked at the retreating figure of Elisa Winston, her golden hair a beacon of effortless superiority. He would prove her wrong. Not just her, but everyone. He would rise above them all, fueled by their scorn, their pity, their dismissal. He would not just reach the peak; he would stand at the very top, a monument to a path that was not a legend of the past, but the only future that mattered.