Evening approached…
Al was walking with Rina. The two of them boarded a small city bus that passed through a quiet upscale district on the city's outskirts. After getting off, Al walked slowly, with Rina following behind.
"Still coming along? Don't tell me you're planning to crash at my place." Al asked, glancing at Rina beside him.
"Ishhh… I just want to make sure you get home safely. Don't want any more thugs bothering you. Consider it also a way to get to know you better. We're friends, right? Hehe." Rina replied.
"Hmph… Don't worry about that. No one's walking away unharmed if they mess with me." Al said casually.
"Your attitude, Al…" Rina retorted, slightly annoyed at what she considered his arrogant joking. "Oh, speaking of thugs… do you know what happened to the thugs Rudi sent the last time they bothered you?"
"Them, hmph? I vaguely remember. What about them?" Al asked, confused.
Rina paused for a moment.
Should I even tell him? Would he even get it? she thought.
Finally, she shook her head.
"Hmm… Nah. Forget it. Hehe," she said awkwardly.
"What the… That's weird," Al replied.
Rina just chuckled quietly as they finally arrived at the Virellano family estate—a vast expanse dominated by the wealthiest family in East Indorosia, a lineage shrouded in mystery, known only by its last three generations.
"Don't tell me… you live here?" Rina asked, a little puzzled as she looked at the grand gates labeled Virellano Estate. She couldn't understand why Al had brought her here.
Al just nodded and kept walking with a blank expression.
"Yup." He said briefly.
Rina was still confused, thinking he might be joking.
"Wait… This is really your home? The one you mentioned earlier… 'rich kid'… The one where you said your name is Al Virellano?"
Only now did Rina start realizing that maybe Al had never been joking before.
"Believe it or not, that's your business, hehe," Al replied nonchalantly. "By the way, thanks for forcing me to be followed all the way here by you."
Rina was still puzzled, when suddenly a voice came from the front gate.
A girl with tied-up hair, wearing sporty clothes that made it clear she had just finished exercising, was standing there, holding a small towel she had been using to wipe her sweat.
Vianna Virellano.
Al's third eldest sister.
And… Rina's longtime rival in the martial arts world.
"Oh wow. Rina, the weak girl from Palaka Dojo," Vianna said with a mocking tone.
Rina's daydreaming abruptly stopped, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face as she spotted one of her long-time adversaries.
"Vianna?! You?" she snapped, irritated by Vianna's ever-present teasing.
"What are you doing at my house? Don't tell me you're spying on my training," Vianna asked arrogantly.
She then shot a sharp glance at Al before smirking slyly at Rina.
"Oh… you're walking with him? Be careful. He's… a real…" She leaned closer, whispering into Rina's ear, "…womenizer."
Rina stepped back, visibly irritated.
"What do you mean, Vianna? Why are you suddenly talking like that? Do you even know Al?"
Vianna covered her mouth with one hand, amused by the question.
"Know him?" she said, glancing at Al. "You're still too young to understand that far. Haha." She turned back to Rina, taunting.
Rina ground her teeth, visibly vexed. She was about to retort when Al intervened.
"Oii. Oii. Stop it. No need to fight over me. It's getting late anyway—scatter. Scatter." Al said casually.
"Who's even fighting over you?" Rina snapped.
"Hishhh…" Vianna hissed, slightly annoyed.
"Ah… relax, relax. If you're really not fighting over me," Al said awkwardly, waving his hand a little.
"Then, carry on with your… bonding. You two seem close, by the way. Best I don't interfere. Once again, thanks, Rin." He then walked away at a leisurely pace.
Rina and Vianna were left staring in frustration at his indifferent attitude.
But only two steps later, Al stopped and turned slightly.
"And also… I can understand if that rumor spread inside this house. But you better not spread it outside, Sist… uh… hmm… I mean, Vianna. Or Miss Vianna?" Then he turned and walked off.
Huff… complicated. But I already promised not to publicize my family status for a year. And that's if I manage to integrate. Hmm… it's going to be tricky to mention them without the 'sister' tag from now on, he thought, referring to his one-year wager.
Vianna just snorted lightly, unconcerned.
Meanwhile, Rina was slightly confused.
Did he just call Vianna 'sister'? Or did I mishear? But he did say Miss. If Al really has connections to the Virellano family, maybe he's the one who hired strong fighters back then, especially with Vianna's connections. Woahh. This is really making me curious, she thought.
She looked at Vianna again.
"Vianna, I don't want any trouble with you. But let me ask you one thing." Rina said, trying to calm her own tension.
Vianna blinked in slight surprise.
"Relax. I don't see you as a threat at all. Don't tell me because we tied last time, you think you have the right to deal with me. Hehe. Anyway, ask away. It's not like you're usually this polite to me."
"Tchh. I'm polite because I respect you as my senior in martial arts, and we're in your territory." Rina said, slightly annoyed but holding back out of curiosity. "And… what's your connection to Al, or what's Al's connection to your family?"
"Hmph? Our connection? You want to know that? What's the point?" Vianna asked, slightly confused.
Rina just nodded seriously, enough to make Vianna realize the question mattered to her.
Vianna thought for a moment.
That kid? There's no way I'd call him a family member here. I don't even feel ready to admit it. But whatever, why should I answer this woman? she thought.
Then, with little seriousness, she replied:
"Him? Just think of him as a servant's kid in this house. Haha."
Rina got a slight realization. Although Vianna wasn't answering seriously, she didn't notice and took it seriously.
Al, who had walked far ahead, suddenly stopped upon hearing that. His auditory sensitivity let him catch their words. His body reacted instantly, something even he didn't understand.
His body trembled momentarily—not strongly, but enough to signal an emotional stir.
What's happening to me? She called me a servant's kid, why is my body reacting? he thought, confused.
Until something seemed to take over his mind.
That means… she called my father and mother mere servants. Me and my parents are lowly people? We can be insulted because of that? even by their own child. A Lowly humans?
The thought churned violently in his mind, a burning sense of humiliation unlike any other.
That line—something that should never come from a Virellano child, referring to Al's parents, who were technically the birth parents of all the Virellano children as well.
His expression didn't change. But inside, something shifted.
A strange, unfamiliar emotion surged through his chest.
Servant.
That word stabbed deep.
He didn't know why, but a powerful anger flared.
So… my parents are thought of like that?
By their own blood?
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed.
The air around them turned heavy.
Like the pressure in the air had dropped several degrees.
Killing intent.
Thick. Deep. Terrifying.
Vianna and Rina—both trained martial artists—immediately sensed the oppressive aura.
Their bodies instinctively tensed.
But neither of them knew where the aura was coming from.
All they knew was that it was overwhelming.
Rina's breath caught.
Vianna was momentarily speechless.
They both glanced around… not realizing the source of the pressure was Al.
Then, just as suddenly, the aura disappeared.
Al only now noticed his fist was clenched tight.
He took a deep breath… and returned to his usual lazy expression.
"Huff… that was close." he murmured softly, just as a small chip slipped from behind his ear. The device was damaged — it had only just managed to hold back the surge of Al's emotions.
He turned and stared at the two women from afar. Both of them looked noticeably pale. He made no move to respond or interact — he feared the surge might come back.
Still, the disbelief that Vianna had called him a servant's child lingered in his chest.
Vianna remained standing where she was. Her body felt cold. Her eyes trembled.
That just now… what—what could emit such a terrifying aura? she wondered.
She watched Al's back as he slowly disappeared through the estate gates. She then glanced at Rina and realized Rina must have felt it too, but chose not to bring it up.
"Huff… whatever. If you're going to stay the night here, don't forget to ask the security guard first. I'm off." Vianna said, leaving Rina behind.
"Tchhh… who would want that. I—I'm going home first!" Rina stammered nervously, then turned and hurried away from the lavish estate.
---
Inside a taxi…
Rina sat in the back seat, her face pale. Her breaths were shallow. Cold sweat dripped down her temples.
Her hand trembled as she held her phone.
But not out of fear—
Out of tension.
"That aura…" she whispered.
It had been two weeks since she first felt something like that—in a narrow alley that caused various martial arts groups in Makazhar to gather.
No one knew what it was back then.
But the aura she just felt—right in front of the Virellano estate—
Was exactly the same.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me… Al?"
She quickly shook her head.
"No way… He doesn't even have basic energy control. No aura. No background."
She turned her eyes back to the window. The sky was darkening. The last rays of the sun swallowed by thin clouds.
But that feeling in her chest…
Hadn't gone away.
---
Meanwhile…
A few hours passed after Al showered and relaxed.
In the small building he usually occupied, Al sat propped against his narrow bed. His body felt cold even though the air was still warm.
He wasn't paying attention to the phone screen in front of him.
His mind kept replaying the scene earlier—Vianna's words calling their parents servants.
His hand clenched again.
Why did I react like that?
He tried to think logically.
I don't even feel that close to them yet…
So why did my emotions explode like that?
Was it… the effect of Blood Energy? A bond of blood?
The questions danced through his head. But he pushed them aside.
"Arrrggghh… too tired to think," he muttered, reaching for his phone.
Just as he opened his entertainment app, a soft knock came at the door.
Knock. Knock.
With reluctance, he got up and opened it.
Standing at the door… was Nayala.
Night had fully fallen.
But there she stood, calm and casual in a thin house dress, long hair down, and the strong but elegant scent of perfume lingering around her.
Her eyes studied Al with curiosity. Her lips curved into a flirtatious smile.
"So this is… the room of the man who was supposed to be my official fiancé?" she said, gazing into his modest room.
"What do you want?" Al asked.
"I'm just curious… about you. Aren't you even a little bit interested in me?"
Al said nothing, giving her a blank stare.
Weird woman, he thought.
"Don't you want to at least try approaching me? Who knows—I might change my mind if you… impress me," she teased, deliberately leaning in, her tone and body language laced with sensual invitation.
Al continued staring at her.
What's with this girl? Is this some elite children's game? Is it connected to David again? After not being able to bother me for so long, is he trying again? Or… is this woman actually interested in me? Ah—whatever. Whatever it is… better I don't get involved. he muttered inwardly.
Silent.
Then he gave a short bow.
"Sorry. I'm not interested in scandals. I'm a good, rule-abiding rich boy."
Without changing his tone, Al slowly closed the door.
The sound of the click was crystal clear.
Like a clean, decisive end.
Nayala stood stunned by the rejection.
"Arrgghhh!"
---
Back at the main house...
Nayala stormed down the marble hallway, her steps fast and furious.
Her face was twisted with disappointment and frustration.
In the family lounge, David was seated casually with one of his personal bodyguards.
Nayala marched right up to him.
"He didn't even… show any interest in me! Not at all! He… closed the door on me!"
David gave a small smile.
"So irritating," Nayala grumbled.
David didn't look upset.
Instead, he closed his eyes briefly, then spoke to his guard.
"Continue to monitor Al's room perimeter."
"But sir, he didn't do anything to—"
"Exactly. The fact that he rejected Nayala is something I can flip. There were no other witnesses except our guards. We can say… Al forced her into his room."
The guard paused for a moment but nodded slowly.
"Understood, Young Master."
David gave a small, sly grin.
"It's been quiet here for too long. The longer he stays, the more unstable my position becomes. So whatever it is, I'll remove that kid."
"How are you going to do that?" Nayala asked innocently.
David smiled, looking at Nayala.
"Even if he doesn't play dirty...
I can make sure his name gets dirty anyway."
David then turned on his phone and dialed a number, reaching out to someone. A certain individual who, judging from his expression and tone, seemed to be the key figure capable of smoothing out every single one of his dirty schemes for the night.
---
Back in Al's room.
After Nayala's departure, Al once again reflected on everything that had occurred so far. He realized that his strength was not entirely stable; fluctuations kept appearing,
"Is it the psychological pressure here that's making my power unstable at times? Hmph… figures. The people around here really know how to mess with my emotions. I need to keep it under control." he muttered, analyzing the situation.
He then assumed a cross-legged sitting position atop his bed. His eyes slowly closed, while both hands were pressed together, fingers interlacing with each other.
His breathing grew steady and rhythmic, while his lips began to move faintly, whispering inaudible syllables that resembled an ancient mantra.
Cultivation Technique: Diarasil Breathing Art
At that very moment, Al was engaging in cultivation as well as contemplation.
It was not merely a technique of energy absorption meant to heighten his magical power, but also a method designed to calm his mind, to open the gates of his awareness, and to regulate his soul.
A practice that demanded precision, carried out in this very posture—sitting cross-legged with hands joined, maintaining a breathing pattern of seven seconds inhalation and seven seconds exhalation, with each cycle synchronized to a single line of mantra being recited.
This method had always been a disciplined form of training, not only for him but also for his group.
And then—
SWOSHHH!
Faint streams of energy began to manifest in the air around him, swirling in various colors and forms. Some surged like rolling waves, others fragmented into scattered motes of light, and several even flickered with unstable brilliance.
Al's body soon became enveloped by a thin veil of energy, a radiant mixture of crimson-golden light interwoven with threads of pitch-black darkness.
The contrasting hues shimmered and clashed, yet coexisted, as though his very body was striving to embody the duality of light and shadow within a single vessel.
Normally, not every type of energy would harmonize with a user's body. Cultivators would only absorb energies that resonated with the natural construction of their body and soul, syncing through colors or forms that matched their innate alignment.
But Al's body was different—remarkably different. For reasons unknown, the energy cloaking his form extended outward and made contact with the surrounding currents of power.
The moment they touched, those foreign energies seemed irresistibly pulled, slowly converging and being drawn into Al's body.
A sharp, stinging sensation rippled through his entire being as that torrent of energy entered. His muscles tensed, his face winced with pain, yet he endured it. Bit by bit, the chaotic surge transformed into something gentler, warmer, and ultimately more harmonious with his system.
An hour passed—by cultivation standards, not a long session at all. Al finally opened his eyes. For most people, stabilizing such erratic energy might take days, yet that single hour was sufficient for him and his group who constantly struggled with unstable forces.
Dark, tar-like liquid seeped from his pores, releasing an unbearable stench. This phenomenon was none other than the manifestation of residual energy and impurities—filth of the body and the soul—that had been forced out after the essence was successfully absorbed into Al.
He carefully examined himself, stretching his limbs, testing the firmness of his muscles. The improvement felt palpable, almost reassuring.
"I still can't believe the magical density within this residence is this rich. It can even rival Ataris. I suppose that's the reason why these elite districts are capable of producing so many talented individuals, whether they possess innate magical abilities or not," he murmured casually, clearly pleased with the enhancement of his strength.
"And now, my stable energy has reached the early stage of Grandmaster level across all three energies. This is more than satisfactory for merely a month of cultivation here. I wonder just how far my stable energy could grow if I were to settle down in this place permanently."
Al felt genuine satisfaction at the advancement of his rank. His current level was Grandmaster.
Within this world, magical power was classified based on the depth and quantity of one's energy. As had been explained earlier, the progression of stages began from Novice, followed by Adept, Practitioner, Expert, Master, Grandmaster, Sovereign, Archon, Origin, and finally reaching the highest pinnacle—Mythical.
He was just about to rest after that brief cultivation session, yet a sudden knock on the door shattered his plan. A sense of foreboding welled up in his chest, as if the night itself refused to grant him peace, no matter how much effort he had put into calming his spirit.
---