Kapitel 333: Divergent Paths
Defeating Nolan Wright had gone exactly as I anticipated.
Despite his lack of battle experience, Nolan's higher mana rank made him stronger than Vaelor had been. If we had faced each other before the war, the result would have been obvious—I would have lost, without question.
But things were different now.
I had improved immeasurably since then, albeit my primary improvement had been with Art.
His guidance during my year of isolation training had pushed me far beyond where I would have been otherwise. The techniques he taught me, the grueling drills, the wisdom drawn from his own hard-won experience—all of it had propelled me ahead of my peers, leaving even those of greater mana rank struggling to match me.
Now, standing before the Wall, I could feel it—an insurmountable barrier for many, but for me, a challenge to be conquered. Scaling it would trigger my first body metamorphosis and elevate me to the Ascendant-rank.
And I was eager to see what awaited on the other side.
The next major event in my calendar was Rachel's birthday, two months away. Until then, I intended to dedicate my time to training at home.
Of course, two months wouldn't be enough to form my Sword Heart. That process required more than effort; it demanded time.
The Sword Heart wasn't about swordsmanship, though skill played a role. It was about focus, transcendence, and a connection to the essence of the blade itself. It allowed enhanced aura to evolve into astral energy, bridging the gap between the Integration and Ascendant ranks.
Even so, not all Sword Hearts were equal. They reflected the wielder—each unique, shaped by the individual's journey, will, and mastery.
For me, the path was clear but slow.
It would take at least half a year before I could form my Sword Heart and break through to the Ascendant-rank. But the prospect didn't deter me. If anything, it fueled my determination.
Patience and perseverance had brought me this far. They would take me the rest of the way.
This was why I had stepped away from the war. It offered little for what I needed to accomplish now. The battlefield, though invaluable for honing instincts and adaptability, would not aid me in forging my Sword Heart. For that, solitude and focused training were essential.
My goals were clear. First, I intended to push my Grade 5 art to the zenith of mastery, refining it until every movement flowed with effortless precision and unmatched power. Second, I aimed to complete the third movement of my Grade 6 art, elevating it to the adept realm and solidifying it as a true masterpiece of swordsmanship. By finishing half of the art, I would take a monumental step forward in my craft.
Only after these milestones—and after reaching Ascendant-rank—would I return to the war. By then, the battlefield would serve a new purpose: sharpening my senses to their newfound limits and teaching me the intricacies of wielding astral energy alongside my Sword Heart.
For now, however, my focus was singular.
I immersed myself in the process of forming my Sword Heart, each day bringing me closer to the transcendence I sought.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Jack's footsteps echoed through the cavernous expanse of the ancient library, each step a deliberate march into frustration. His dark hair framed a face set with fury, his lips bitten raw in thought.
Nothing was going according to plan.
Every day, Arthur's star climbed higher, his name growing synonymous with achievement. War accolades as an honorary Elder of the Mount Hua sect in the East had already solidified his reputation. Then, as if that weren't enough, Arthur had defeated Nolan Wright, Vice Captain of the Second Division of the Imperial Knights—a peak Ascendant-ranker. It was a feat that seemed to defy logic.
Jack hated to admit it, but fear gnawed at him. The bitter reality was undeniable.
Jack had reached the Wall himself, the monumental barrier separating Integration-rank from Ascendant-rank. He had pushed himself to the point where he could skip ranks, defeating even mid Ascendant-rank opponents in battle. But someone of Nolan Wright's caliber? That was a mountain too steep to climb.
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. The arrogance that had once fueled him had melted away, leaving only the cold, hard truth. Arthur was a threat—a far greater one than Lucifer could ever be.
Jack needed more power.
His search for strength had brought him to this place: the sacred library of the Order of the Fallen Flame. This sanctuary housed fragments of knowledge salvaged from the once-mighty Heavenly Demon sect, destroyed in the aftermath of the Heavenly Demon's defeat. Jack's very presence here spoke volumes. He had absorbed everything the Heavenly Demon had once known, draining every last scrap of wisdom and technique to accelerate his growth. Yet even that wasn't enough.
The potential to surpass the Heavenly Demon in the future? It might have impressed others. To Jack, it was laughable.
Arthur was not an opponent one defeated with mere potential.
Assassination was no longer an option either. At Arthur's current level, only an Immortal-ranker would stand a chance of taking him by surprise. But such a move would be impossible to hide; the attempt itself would draw the wrath of the world's powers. Jack couldn't afford to risk everything on such an unstable gambit.
So here he was, wandering the labyrinth of forgotten knowledge, seeking what even the Heavenly Demon had not uncovered. Shelves loomed over him like watchful sentinels, ancient tomes and crumbling scrolls containing secrets that had escaped time's grasp. The air was thick with the scent of dust and the faint, acrid tang of charred parchment—a reminder of the flames that had consumed the Heavenly Demon's legacy.
Jack's desperation was a fire of its own, burning hotter with every step. He scanned the spines of the books, fingers twitching as if they might reach out and pull the answers from the air. Somewhere in this vast sea of forgotten lore was the key to surpassing his limits. There had to be.
Arthur was outpacing him. Every moment Jack spent here, Arthur was growing stronger, solidifying his dominance. The thought was unbearable.
Jack's hand hovered over a thick tome bound in cracked black leather. Its spine was unmarked, but the faint hum of power radiating from it made his breath catch. He pulled it from the shelf, the weight of it reassuring in his hands.
The title etched in faded silver script read: Empire of Void.
Jack smirked, his dark eyes glinting with determination.
If Arthur Nightingale wanted to stand at the pinnacle, then Jack would tear that pinnacle down and rebuild it in his image.
Turning to the first page, he began to read.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein