The Return of Kaelen Viremont

Chapter 5: This Life

Kaelen’s eyes gleamed with quiet intensity as he reflected silently:

 “Though the Divine Empire of Creation has been gone for three thousand years, I remember what my royal father once told me. A secret treasury still exists—hidden deep within an unknown region. Only he and a few of his most trusted retainers knew its exact location. Inside… lies unimaginable wealth and ancient treasures.”

Yet Kaelen Viremont understood this was not something he could pursue now. His strength was still too limited.

He turned his gaze to the elder in coarse robes standing before him, his demeanor solemn.

 What grade could that sword inside the case possibly be?

In the confines of the House Hanwynn, even a Yellow-grade sword—just one level above a Mortal-grade weapon—would already be a tremendous boost.

"Please... let it be that."

Clang!

The sharp ring of steel echoed as Kaelen drew the blade from the ancient case with anticipation—

Then, his heart sank.

 “What? This... broken thing?”

The sword was covered in rust, dull and worn. It looked as if it might crumble apart at any moment.

Kaelen’s face darkened with disbelief. He glared at the elder.

 “You old geezer, are you playing tricks on me?”

But the elder only smiled—a knowing, mysterious smile—and spoke calmly:

“Never judge a sword by its appearance. Just as you can’t measure the sea with a single bucket, this blade might surprise even me. Its exterior may be tarnished, but who knows what power lies within? Perhaps... it’s waiting for someone like you.”

 “Is that so?” Kaelen Vi muttered, still unsure.

Half skeptical, half intrigued, he returned the rusted 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 mid-air and glanced over the covers:

Bright Moon Sword Art. Fiery Dragon Sword Technique. Nine Swords of the Lonely Peak.

All three were Yellow-grade, elementary-level sword techniques.

“Many thanks, senior, for your generosity.”

Kaelen bowed respectfully. To enemies, he was ruthless. To friends, loyal. And to benefactors, endlessly grateful.

These were the values his father, the late Emperor Therion Viremont, had engraved into his heart.

The elder waved lazily as he reclined behind the counter.

“Go now, Kaelen Cultivate well.”

With a faint smile, Kaelen turned and left—not toward home, but toward the untamed wilds beyond Thornreach County City.

The wilderness was unforgiving—ancient forests, savage beasts, and blood-soaked soil. But for warriors seeking to temper their strength, it was sacred ground.

In the county’s bustling heart, he purchased a swift steed. Then, with the wind at his back, he charged into the wilderness.

Boom!

The hooves pounded like thunder as Kaelen rode into the open plains—his white robes trailing, the sword strapped to his back humming with silent promise.

Under the vast sky, with fire in my heart—this life, I will rise again.

“This... this is what I want. This is freedom!”

Letting out a triumphant roar, he disappeared into the endless horizon.

Many watched from the city gates—captivated by the sight of a lone youth galloping into destiny.

“What a striking young man,” someone murmured. “And what a fine steed...”

By sundown, Kaelen had reached the outskirts of a remote border town— Ravenhollow Town, nestled beneath the towering Vyrecrest Mountains.

It buzzed with activity—mercenaries, martial artists, and merchants. But danger lingered in every shadow.

Kaelen dismounted and walked through the bustling streets.

Though small, Ravenhollow was a hub for hunters and rogue cultivators. Here, strength ruled all. Robbery, ambush, even murder—nothing was rare.

His destination was clear: the town’s central Ebonflare Tower, where warriors accepted missions for spiritual herbs or rare beast cores—tasks often commissioned by nobles from across Ebonvale and even the Eboncrest Dynasty.

Not a bad way to train... and earn a few rewards.

But just as he approached, two rugged mercenaries stepped in front of him.

They were in their thirties, with cruel eyes and mocking smirks.

“Hold up, kid,” one sneered. “You gotta pay a toll. Three low-grade spirit stones if you wanna enter the Ebonflare Tower. That’s the Frostfang Mercenaries Group’s rule.”

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

Whispers rose from the crowd.

“Another newbie getting extorted…”

 “But who dares challenge the Frostfang Mercenaries?”

Kaelen Viremont’s expression didn’t change, but inwardly he sighed.

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

Then his gaze sharpened. Cold. Dangerous.

“Move.”

The mercenaries froze.

Before they could react, Kaelen stepped forward.

“You brat—!”

“Seize him! Break his legs and—”

Boom!

A blast of golden true energy exploded from Kaelen Viremont’s body, slamming into the two men and hurling them across the square.

They hit the ground hard, groaning in pain.

“W-What?! He’s—he’s strong!”

Gasps rippled through the onlookers.

But Kaelen didn’t even glance at them. With quiet composure, he walked past the fallen mercenaries and entered the Ebonflare tower.

The path ahead was long.

But this time, he would walk it with his head held high.