The Return of Kaelen Viremont

Chapter 3: This Life and Monstrous Talent

Kaelen’s eyes glimmered with quiet intensity.

“Though the Divine Empire of Creation vanished three thousand years ago, my father once spoke of a hidden treasury,” he murmured to himself. “Deep within an unknown land, only he and a few trusted retainers knew its location. Inside... unimaginable wealth, ancient treasures...”

But Kaelen shook his head. That pursuit was far beyond him for now. His strength was still too limited.

He turned to the elder before him, whose robes were coarse and whose expression remained calm but serious.

“What grade could that sword possibly be?” he wondered.

Even a Yellow-grade sword, a step above Mortal-grade, would give him a huge boost in House Hanwynn.

“Please... let it be that.”

Clang!

The sharp ring of steel echoed through the room as Kaelen drew the blade from its case. His heart sank immediately.

“What? This... broken thing?”

The sword was rusted and dull, its edges chipped as if it might crumble after a single strike. Kaelen’s face darkened.

“You old geezer... are you messing with me?”

The elder only smiled, calm and knowing.

“Never judge a sword by its appearance. Just as the sea cannot be measured by a single bucket, this blade may hold power even I cannot see. Its exterior is tarnished... but who knows what lies within? Perhaps it’s waiting for someone like you.”

Kaelen muttered, skeptical yet intrigued. He returned the sword to its case and slung it across his back.

Without another word, the elder tossed several thin manuals onto the counter.

“Take these. Free of charge.”

Kaelen caught them in midair, scanning the titles: Bright Moon Sword Art, Fiery Dragon Sword Technique, and Nine Swords of the Lonely Peak.

All were Yellow-grade, elementary-level techniques.

“Many thanks, Senior. I am grateful,” he said, bowing deeply.

To enemies, ruthless. To friends, loyal. To benefactors, endlessly thankful. It was a code instilled in him by his father, the late Emperor Therion Viremont.

The elder waved lazily.

“Go now, Kaelen. Cultivate well.”

Kaelen left, not toward home, but into the untamed wilds beyond Thornreach County.

The wilderness was unforgiving: ancient forests, savage beasts, and blood-soaked soil. For those seeking true strength, it was sacred ground.

In the county’s bustling heart, he purchased a swift steed. Then, with the wind at his back, he galloped across the open plains.

Hooves thundered.

His white robes trailed behind him, while the sword case hummed silently.

Under the vast sky, with fire burning in his heart, he thought:

“This life... I will rise again.”

“This... this is freedom!” he roared, disappearing into the horizon.

From the city gates, many watched the lone youth racing toward his destiny.

By sundown, he reached Ravenhollow Town, tucked beneath the towering Vyrecrest Mountains.

Mercenaries, martial artists, and merchants filled the town, which buzzed with danger. Strength ruled here.

Robbery, ambushes, and murder were common.

His destination was the central Ebonflare Tower.

Warriors accepted missions here, including requests for rare herbs, beast cores, and noble commissions. It was the perfect place for training and rewards.

Two rugged mercenaries blocked his path, their eyes filled with cruelty.

“Hold up, kid. Pay a toll. Three low-grade spirit stones to enter. Frostfang Mercenaries rule this place,” one of them sneered.

“There’s such a rule?” Kaelen asked calmly.

Whispers rose among the crowd.

Another newbie getting extorted...

But who dared challenge the Frostfang Mercenaries?

Kaelen’s expression didn’t change.

Inwardly, he sighed.

As expected. The strong trample the weak. Strength is the only truth.

Then his gaze sharpened, turning cold and dangerous.

“Move.”

The mercenaries froze.

Before they could react, Kaelen stepped forward.

“You brat!”

“Seize him! Break his legs and...”

Boom!

Golden true energy exploded from Kaelen, slamming the two men across the square.

They hit the ground hard, groaning in pain.

“W-What?! He’s... he’s strong!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Kaelen didn’t even glance at them.

Quiet and composed, he walked past the fallen mercenaries and entered the tower.

Inside, he accepted three missions to retrieve rare spiritual herbs, promising a combined reward of one hundred thousand coins, an immense amount for someone at his stage.

Without hesitation, he vanished into the dense forests of the Vyrecrest Mountains.

At the town gate, the mercenaries seethed.

Hatred burned in their eyes.

“We have to get revenge,” one of them growled.

“But the captain won’t act. We’ll have to play dirty. Frame him and force the captain’s hand,” the other said.

The Vyrecrest Mountains stretched endlessly, their forests thick and unyielding.

From here, the Desolate Wild Forest extended, a deadly region on the Velarion Continent.

Dressed in flowing white robes, with the sword case slung across his back, Kaelen entered the primal wilderness.

His goal wasn’t the missions alone. It was something deeper.

To temper his sword.

To temper his soul.

True progress was forged in life and death.

The Creation Divine Technique demanded combat. Evolution came through battle, refining the body, expanding true energy, and awakening the spirit.

Kaelen’s mind drifted three thousand years into the past, to his father, Emperor Therion Viremont.

He had fought gods, kings, and monsters. He had crossed stars, slain beasts of heaven and earth, and carved his name into the Spirit Realm.

Blood and fire had shaped him into the Divine Emperor.

“Like father, like son,” Kaelen whispered. “I refuse mediocrity.”

With a metallic clang, he drew the rusted sword, the same battered blade he had received from the elder.

It felt ancient, as though something hidden lay within it.

He exhaled and began practicing the Bright Moon Sword Art, the Fiery Dragon Sword Technique, and the Nine Swords of the Lonely Peak.

Three Yellow-grade techniques flooded his mind, intricate and demanding his complete focus.

He wasn’t rushing.

Then something awakened.

A wave of energy surged from the golden divine pill in his mind.

The fog lifted.

Clarity blazed.

His comprehension soared.

“This... what is this?!”

Sword strikes flew.

One.

Two.

Three.

Perfect.

Shadows of the blade sliced through the air, radiating raw power.

Kaelen’s eyes widened.

Even as the son of a Divine Emperor, he had never wielded such mastery.

Weren’t they calling me talentless in this life...?

He tested it with a full strike from the Bright Moon Sword Art.

Clang!

Brilliant sword light burst forth.

A glowing illusion of a bright moon shimmered above him.

Perfect execution.

Next came the Fiery Dragon Sword Technique.

ROAR!

A blazing dragon silhouette surged along his blade, its strike as heavy as a falling mountain.

Perfect.

The golden divine pill pulsed, releasing unfathomable force.

Fate was rewritten.

Martial failure had been transformed into monstrous talent.

Ordinary disciples took months, even years, to master a Yellow-grade technique.

Kaelen?

Two tries.

That was all.

The pill had revealed two powers:

At breakthroughs, it released overwhelming spiritual energy, leaving him with no fear of injury or failure.

It transformed his martial talent from below average to heaven-defying.

Armed with this knowledge, Kaelen ventured deeper into the Vyrecrest Mountains.

No hesitation.

No fear.

Martial power is the foundation. I must grow stronger, strong enough to challenge her.

Her.

Aurelia Duskryn, Second Miss of House Hanwynn.

The death of Mirelle would not remain a secret.

Sooner or later, she would come.

And when she did...

Kaelen would be ready.

Blade in hand, eyes unblinking, standing tall even in the storm.