All eyes were pinned on Aditya, who stood at the center of this brewing tempest. Nobles, elders, and cultivators of high standing leaned forward, eager to catch his every word.
Aditya's gaze swept across the room, finally landing on Anika, who still sat on the floor, her expression a mix of shock and defiance. He let out a dry chuckle, a sound that seemed to slice through the silence.
"Hmm..." Aditya's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly, giving off a chilling, almost predatory glint.
"It seems there's been a rather entertaining misunderstanding here. Me? Marry her?" He scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain as he looked down at Anika. "Do you truly believe she has what it takes to become the Princess of my sect?"
The hall buzzed with murmurs. Faces turned towards the Crown Prince, the instigator of this so-called proposal, whose expression faltered.
He had been the one to pressure the Madhuni patriarch into offering his daughter's hand, believing it would solidify an alliance. But now, the young lord Aditya's words were like a cold slap in the face, leaving everyone dumbfounded.
Aditya continued, his tone cold and unyielding, "When I said 'I want her,' I never meant as a wife. I have no interest in elevating her to such a position. No, what I meant was that she would serve me... as a maid. A mere servant in my sect. At best, she could aspire to become one of its disciples, should she prove herself worthy."
Gasps of disbelief rippled through the crowd like waves crashing on a cliffside. The patriarch of the Madhuni family clenched his fists, his face turning a shade redder than the evening sun sinking below the horizon. His pride, built over decades, shattered in a single sentence.
"As a maid?" he spat out, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and humiliation. Never in his life had he felt such an insult. He had imagined his daughter as a respected consort, not as a lowly servant. For his precious daughter to be reduced to a servant? It was an affront he had never dreamed he would face.
The original Aditya hadn't planned on making Anika his maid; his true intention was merely to have her join his sect as a disciple. However, he figured that while he was at it, why settle for just a disciple, he thought, when I can have her in my grasp, obedient and close by?
Anika's face, pale as moonlight, seemed to drain of all color. Her lips parted, but no words came out. The shock rooted her to the spot, her mind whirling.
He doesn't even consider me worthy of being his wife? The thought stabbed at her like a dagger. Then why have I been fighting this so hard? What am I even trying to defend here?
A chill sank into her bones as she considered her future, his words reverberating in her mind. Could she resist, even if she wanted to?
Anika Madhuni stood at the peak of privilege. As the only daughter of the patriarch of the Madhuni family, she had been born into a life of unchallenged luxury. The Madhuni family was a pillar of power within the Yellori Dynasty, a dynasty that ruled the entire southern continent with an iron fist.
Anika's days were filled with fine silks, precious jewels, and the constant flattery of those who envied her status. Her beauty was often compared to that of a goddess—an ethereal charm that drew comparisons with the finest paintings and statues in her family's private collection.
Princes from distant kingdoms, young masters of noble families, and wealthy merchants all lined up, eager to win her favor. Yet she dismissed them all without a second thought, focusing solely on her cultivation path. Her talent in cultivation had earned her the title of prodigy, a word that fell like a crown upon her head.
But now, standing before Aditya, her confidence and self-worth shattered like glass struck by a hammer. The man in front of her was two years younger, yet his cultivation far surpassed not just hers but even her father's, a fact that felt like a slap across her face.
Anika's heart pounded like a drum in her chest as she looked at him. The usual arrogance and pride that she wore like a cloak felt heavy and false. Aditya's presence was overwhelming; his eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies, a mysterious depth that pulled her in, as if daring her to gaze deeper into the abyss.
His skin was smooth and radiant, almost like polished porcelain, and his features had a delicate, sculpted perfection that made even the portraits of divine beings in her collection seem dull by comparison.
In that moment, a storm of emotions brewed within her. She was the one known for her cold, harsh rejections, the untouchable flower of the Madhuni family. Yet here she was, faced with a man who had not even given her the courtesy of noticing her disdain. His indifference stung more than any rejection she had ever delivered. Was she even qualified to look down on him, let alone insult him?
Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a stark contrast against her usually composed expression. The realization of her insignificance hit her like a tidal wave, washing away her pride. Her heart was a battlefield of conflicting emotions—humiliation, embarrassment, and a bitter taste of inadequacy.
Her fingers trembled slightly, her breath coming in shallow gasps as if the very air had turned thick and heavy around her. She felt the world spinning, her vision blurring. In a haze of confusion and shame, she could no longer bear the weight of her own humiliation.
Her knees buckled, and darkness consumed her as she fainted, collapsing to the ground like a wilting flower under the scorching sun.
The patriarch of the Madhuni family, a tall and dignified figure, felt his heart skip a beat as he saw his daughter, Anika, collapse like a withered flower. In an instant, his stoic expression shattered, replaced by a look of pure panic.
His steps were swift yet unsteady as he rushed to her side. Kneeling beside her, he gently lifted Anika into his arms, cradling her head against his chest as if she were a fragile porcelain doll on the verge of breaking.
"Young Lord," the patriarch's voice cracked slightly, but he quickly regained his composure, forcing a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Could we perhaps continue this discussion tomorrow? As you can see, the situation demands my immediate attention."
Aditya, who hadn't flinched since Anika's fall, remained seated, the faintest trace of amusement ghosting over his lips. His eyes, dark and steady, held not a flicker of concern. To him, it was as if the girl fainting was no more than a leaf falling from a tree—insignificant, forgotten as soon as it touched the ground.
After a moment, he gave a curt nod, a subtle smirk lingering at the corner of his mouth. "Mmm..."
Without another word, Aditya rose from his seat, his figure draped in an air of indifference as he turned and began to walk down the hallway. The shadows of the dimly lit corridor seemed to reach out to him, as if drawn to the aura of darkness that clung to him like an old friend.
When he arrived at the guest quarters, he glanced back toward the hall he'd left behind, his gaze cold and calculating. To him, the drama of emotions, family bonds, and tenderness were mere distractions. His mouth curved ever so slightly.
And so, he entered his room, the door closing softly, leaving the silence of the grand hall to settle like dust over the fallen.
__
Aditya sat on the edge of a large bed in the guest room of the Madhuni Mansion. The room was dimly lit, with only the moonlight seeping through the curtains, casting long shadows on the walls.
He could hear the rustling of leaves from the trees outside, a faint reminder of the unfamiliar world he found himself in.
He let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of his jumbled thoughts.
"So, I've transmigrated into this world filled with magic and supernatural powers," he muttered, glancing around the lavish room. The soft silk sheets and intricate gold carvings on the furniture hinted at the wealth of his new identity. "And apparently, I'm the son of some big shot."
Aditya chuckled, but it was a dry, humorless laugh. "The first thing I see after waking up is a slap from a beautiful girl who accuses me of forcing her to marry me. It feels like I'm trapped in one of those cheap, cliché dramas where the villain is obsessed with the heroine."
He paused, frowning as he considered his role. "No, it's worse. I'm not even the main villain. Just some cannon fodder, a small fry destined to be squashed by the hero," he sneered, the bitterness in his voice echoing in the silent room. His eyes darkened as he stared at the moon, the faint light reflecting in his eyes like cold, sharp steel.
Suddenly, a translucent interface popped up in front of him, shimmering in the air like a ghostly apparition.
[Host unlocked Devil God Level-Up Function]
[Current level : Cannon fodder
Role: The lowest level, purely existing as a stepping stone for the protagonist or stronger villains.
Characteristics: Weak, arrogant without reason, often deluded about their own strength.
Purpose: Demonstrate the protagonist's initial strength or ability.]