Chapter 45
Aris gave his explanation, and Lucas, after listening, agreed to his request.
He directed Aris to a place on the far edge of his lands.
Lucas accepted this meeting not out of need, but out of curiosity.
He found Aris intriguing.
Searching his memories of the novel he knew, Lucas could not place him.
Aris was not one of the main heroes or villains, not a side character with a name, not even a vague extra in a crowd scene.
The book had never mentioned him at all.
Aris was not the first such person Lucas had met in this world.
Many people existed who were not in the story, and Lucas had usually paid them little mind, too focused on his own goals to care.
But Aris was different.
The moment Lucas appeared before him, he felt a strange sensation sweep over his entire body.
It was as if his whole being was being examined, looked over from head to toe.
Lucas was naturally very sensitive to energy—all kinds of energy.
The energy Aris used to scan him was unfamiliar, unlike anything Lucas had ever felt.
Yet, he clearly sensed the intent behind it.
He felt it moving over him, probing.
His own spell, which should have perfectly hidden his true power and cultivation, seemed to have no effect.
Under that strange energy, he felt exposed, as if even his soul was laid bare like an open book.
This was what truly captured Lucas's interest.
He doubted it was Ki energy, the power used by that distant tribe he planned to visit someday.
He could feel Ki inside himself already; he just didn't know how to cultivate it properly.
Finding that tribe was meant to help him study and create his own cultivation method—a project that would take years.
Why start from nothing when he could learn from what already existed and improve upon it?
No, this energy from Aris was entirely new, and Lucas wanted to understand it.
However, he didn't dwell on it for long.
He pushed the thoughts aside and returned to the manor to play with Nora, Mia, and Tracy.
He wanted to enjoy their company, to forget for a while about his constant training, his complicated researches, and his dense studies of runes and magical seals.
His work had hit a stubborn wall, and it was very frustrating.
He was doing everything correctly, yet his attempts to create stable clones kept failing.
Worst of all, despite his deep study of the soul spell Mara had given him, he had made no breakthrough.
Sensing a soul was not the same as understanding it.
His knowledge was badly lacking.
He felt he wasn't even close to his goal and would need at least a year or two of pure study before he could really begin.
But Lucas was impatient.
He didn't want to wait that long.
After successfully creating a clone, he would then need to find a way to combine different genes, ensuring their magical affinities stayed strong or grew stronger, all while keeping the clone perfectly stable.
He already had plans to solve the problems of a weak mana core and a frail body.
For the mana core, he needed the special mana beast he intended to create. The whole process was a series of massive tasks.
His only real choice to speed things up now was to contact his old master… Elijah, the man who had defected from the Hidden City of Sky.
Far from the manor's center, on the edge of the territory, Aris was training with his sword.
He moved back and forth across the ground, swinging his blade without rest.
His movements took many forms—sharp, sweeping, thrusting—and his face was twisted with raw anger.
Yet, even fueled by fury, his swordsmanship held a strange grace and beauty.
His quick, sharp forms were filled with powerful, controlled strength.
Aris kept going like this for hours, pushing himself relentlessly.
The sun set, and night fell, but he did not stop.
Finally, as darkness covered the sky, he threw his head back and screamed. "Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why!"
His voice rang out, filled with anger, deep sadness, and bitter regret.
"Why am I so weak?!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the ground again and again.
When he first saw the strange black aura, he thought it was a mark for those deemed worthless by destiny and fate.
But after meeting Lucas, he saw a man who was greater than him in every way power, presence, control who also had that black aura.
Why was Lucas different?
What invisible thing was holding Aris back, stopping him from reaching such heights?
"What is it?!" he cried up at the heavens, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his face.
"What do you want from me?!" His words sounded distorted, like a being from another realm was asking the question through him.
"I will give my soul, my blood, my whole being! Just give me a chance! A chance to see the heights, to achieve them!
How long must I suffer?
I was abandoned at birth! I only want to be the greatest swordsman, but my skills are horrible!
My mana core talent is only Bronze rank!
My physical strength can never reach those above me! What do you want?!
Just give me something—tell me what I should do! I have worked myself to my dying breath every single day, and still I am weak!
Please, just… please.
I will do anything. Just give me a chance." Aris sobbed, roughly wiping his tears away.
All he wanted was to prove himself—to prove he could climb higher than anyone believed possible.
To prove to everyone in this world the power he held inside.
To prove to the parents who left him that they had made the worst mistake of their lives.
But more than anything, he wanted to prove to the destiny and fate that had left him behind that he could shine brighter than the sun, the stars, or even the very existence of light itself.
Yet, after years of brutal training, pushing himself harder than he ever thought possible, believing that if he just pushed hard enough he would break through his limits… it still hadn't happened.
He felt a solid wall inside him, and his strength was not enough to break it.
He didn't understand why.
He felt he still wasn't training enough, but his body had broken down before, more times than he could count. How much more was he supposed to do?
Was this truly a curse?
What was he missing?
What was stopping him, and why was it stopping him?
"I need this," he whispered, his fury spent. "I must have this. I was born for this. I have worked for this. I will die for this." He sighed, knowing that shouting his frustrations into the night would not fix anything.
The only path was forward. He stood up, gripped his sword, and got back into his stance, preparing to swing once more.
But before his sword could move, a calm voice spoke from the shadows behind him. "If you are that willing, then I can help you."