Seven or eight horses were galloping forward. The person leading the group wore robes that resembled royalty. He was also wearing a crown that confirmed his identity because in all of Valhalla, only one person was allowed to wear that.
The King!
The rest also looked like men of power. They were most probably from the royal court.
One of the horse riders increased his speed and approached the King. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties. "Your Grace, I don't think that man alone can kill all our soldiers. Please calm down." The person spoke in a loud voice.
But instead of replying to him immediately, the king only gritted his teeth. "You still can't comprehend what he is truly capable of. He isn't your regular cultivator." After some time, he spoke at last. "How old is he? Only two hundred and sixty years, isn't it? Yet... He had already broken through to the 7th stage of the God Ascension Realm two years ago. And his current realm? Unknown. He was gone for a year, only to be back now, when we were in a war with Bumdale, his birthplace. And worse? Someone actually dared to harm his mother, the only relative he had left. I just hope I can calm his anger within my generation so that my future descendants won't have to pay for it."
Nobody else said anything and only exchanged glances. 'Why is the king acting so cowardly? So what if he is already a Seventh Stage God Ascension Realm cultivator? We sent more than ten Eighth Stage God Ascension Realm cultivators, along with more than a hundred Sixth and Seventh Stage God Ascension Realm cultivators. He has to die today. How dare he keep the Heavenly Scripture technique for himself?' One of the men riding in the group thought.
And it wasn't just him. Two others shared the same thought. But no one voiced it out loud.
The group continued their journey on their horses until they reached a battlefield that stretched to the horizon.
But the scene they had expected, clashes of attacks, screams of agony, spraying of blood... Nothing was there. Only silence that sent a chill down their spines.
Corpses were scattered everywhere. Fog curled up from the ground.
The group got down from their horses. The man in the crown looked around, searching for life, even if it was just a single one.
But none...
Suddenly....
"Look over there." One of his comrades shouted.
All eyes darted in a direction. A man stood among a pile of corpses. He wasn't moving. He held two blades, both drenched in blood.
In his chest, multiple swords were pierced, which stopped him from collapsing at the front.
"H.... How is this possible? He killed everyone? But there were at least a thousand people here." One of them stammered.
The king didn't say anything and quickly marched toward the man still holding two blades.
When they got closer, they could finally see what had happened even more clearly. And they almost froze in their spot in shock.
A single man had massacred hundreds of people. All those who died were considered geniuses, pillars of strength. Yet all their glory had hit rock bottom before this single person.
The king walked even closer and put two fingers below his nostrils. He finally heaved a sigh of relief. "Phew. He actually died. God saved us all." He wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead with his palm.
"I don't think it was him who killed all our soldiers, your Grace. Maybe he had help. You are giving him too much credit. If it were possible, that would be one thing. But what you are suggesting, that this man alone defeated each and every one lying here, is totally absurd." A man wearing black robes and armor protested. Except for the king, all shared this same thought.
The king smiled helplessly. "You still don't believe me, do you? Alright. Let me prove it to you. Zacharia...." He looked toward the man in his mid-fifties. "You brought the mirror of fate, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Good. Bring it out and drop Ronan's blood in it. Then..... You all can see. What kind of disaster fate just saved us from."
So the person still standing amidst the corpses was Ronan.
Zacharia nodded and raised his hand. A ring on his index finger glowed, and suddenly a light flashed out. Then a two-meter-tall, one-meter-wide mirror materialized before them.
Zacharia walked toward Ronan and drew out two drops of his blood.
He then carefully dropped them over the Mirror.
The moment the blood touched the surface....
A ripple. And then....
A chaos.
A man could be seen hovering in the air. A great sword rested in his right hand, its tip pointing toward the sky. And multiple blades covered the sky. It was Ronan. He swung his sword down. Right then, all those blades rained down. Some soldiers tried to run, some tried to defend. But all who came in front of those blades died instantly.
Someone thrust his sword forward, and a beam of spiritual energy shot toward Ronan. Ronan didn't even flinch. He threw a casual punch. The beam scattered into fragments of light, dispersing in different directions. Ronan followed with a sword slash. A crescent arc of energy shot forward, cleaving the attacker in half.
Many more attacked him at once. But all faced the same fate. Ronan looked like a grim reaper delivering judgment.
The king and all his companions watched the horror, their mouths wide open. They could barely believe what they were witnessing.
"He... He's a monster." Someone whispered.
Inside the mirror, Ronan continued his massacre. Suddenly, a person appeared behind him and thrust a sword that pierced his back. The attacker was a renowned general, a person at the 8th stage of the God Ascension Realm.
Blarrghhh! Blood gushed out from Ronan's mouth.
But the next moment...
A silver flash.
And then....
The attacker's head flew away. Dead.
The king and his companions continued to watch until it finally came to an end. It took all the veterans they had sent just to stop a single person. Ronan Sleinger.
"Do you believe me now?" The king asked.
No one spoke. Ronan was already dead. Yet those scenes from the mirror had snatched their bravery. They failed to produce any words.
The few who wanted to claim the heavenly scripture technique from Ronan wiped the beads of sweat on their foreheads. 'I am lucky I wasn't here. What can a corpse achieve with any technique?' One of them thought.
"The world might never come across a genius like him ever again. His name will echo throughout history. Only if we weren't on the opposing side." The king sighed.
...
A young man was in a deep sleep, or more like unconscious. A middle-aged woman in a maid's dress was nervously looking after him.
"Young master, please wake up. Think about what will happen to your mother if you just die like this." She said worriedly as she kept wiping the young man's forehead with a wet cloth.
Suddenly, the young man's eyes snapped open.
The maid beamed with joy. "Young master. You are awake!" Tears rolled down her cheeks in relief.
"I will inform Miss right away." She said that and left the room in a hurry.
The young man didn't respond at all. Confusion was etched all over his face. "Where is this place?" His eyes swept the whole room slowly. Everything seemed strange, as if from a different world. "Didn't I just die? That sneaky 8th-level god ascension realm cultivator! He used an artifact to freeze my movement for a second. Damn! Why did I have to die so pathetically?" The young man slammed his fist on the bed in anger. "And what's with this place? Is this what either hell or heaven looks like?" The young man asked in confusion.
Suddenly, before the young man could process further....
A translucent screen appeared before him.
[Congratulations, Host. You have been selected as a player for the system 'Eternal's Grace'. Do you accept it?]
[Initial system acceptance reward: Memories of the previous owner of this body.]
"What?"