Chapter 2: Hyiel's Ambitions
The dense forest that stretched endlessly around the Witch Queen's domain was eerily quiet. It was an unbroken sea of trees, shadows dancing under the dim light of the overcast sky. Deep within, far from the prying eyes of anyone but his mother, Ryomen Hyiel stood in a clearing. His pink hair caught the faint sunlight filtering through the canopy, and his light blue eyes were sharp, reflecting both his calculating nature and an unyielding resolve.
Before him stood a large, jagged boulder. His four arms hung at his sides relaxed yet brimming with potential energy. Despite his calm exterior, there was a restless storm within him—a hunger that no amount of training had yet satisfied. His ambition demanded more.
He raised one hand, his mana surging. The air around him rippled with power, and his voice cut through the silence.
"**Crumble.**"
The boulder shattered instantly, pieces exploding outward before disintegrating into dust. Ryomen's expression remained unchanged, his piercing gaze already evaluating the next step. This was far from the limit of his **Soul Word Magic**, but it was a reminder of the foundation he was building.
He raised another hand, fingers spreading slightly, and uttered a single word.
"**Collapse.**"
The ground trembled, fissures tearing through the clearing as the earth itself seemed to bow to his command. Trees shook, their roots straining against the upheaval, while the once-solid terrain fractured into uneven shards. The destruction was absolute, leaving behind a chasm that swallowed the remnants of the boulder.
Ryomen lowered his hands, the chaos fading as quickly as it had begun. His four arms folded, his posture exuding both control and latent danger.
"Power grows with understanding," he muttered to himself. "But growth without vision is wasted potential."
His ambitions were far-reaching. He didn't just seek to master the magic he had wished for—he sought to surpass all those who came before him. The world had yet to see what true mastery of Soul Word Magic could achieve. His plans extended far beyond this forest, beyond even the Witch Queen's control.
But for now, he needed patience.
From the edge of the clearing, hidden among the trees, a familiar presence watched him. Vanessa. His half-sister's curiosity had always drawn her here, though she lacked the courage to approach. Ryomen sensed her every time, her mana signature as distinct to him as the pink of her hair.
"Vanessa," Ryomen called out, his tone neither warm nor harsh. "Return to the castle. You've seen enough."
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, reluctantly, Vanessa stepped back into the shadows, retreating toward the Witch Queen's domain. Ryomen didn't turn to watch her leave. He cared for his sister in his own way, but he kept those feelings buried deep. Her path would diverge from his soon enough—he knew it was inevitable. She would leave the forest one day and find her purpose elsewhere.
And when their paths crossed again, Ryomen hoped she would have grown strong. The world didn't favor the weak, and neither did he.
Turning back to the clearing, Ryomen's thoughts shifted.
**Zagred.**
The devil who had once terrorized the Clover Kingdom remained a pivotal piece in Ryomen's plans. His heart—split in two by Asta's anti-magic sword—was the focus of Ryomen's curiosity. What would happen if a devil's heart were consumed by someone like him? His cursed blood and limitless magic held untapped potential, and Zagred's heart might be the key to unlocking even greater power.
"One word to rule. One word to reign supreme."
The mantra echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his purpose. Ryomen wasn't arrogant—he respected strength and willpower, and in Asta, he saw both. But respect didn't equate to submission. He wouldn't just stand among the strongest; he would rise above them.
Patience, he reminded himself. The dominoes would fall into place. Zagred's plans had failed, but in the chaos left behind, Ryomen saw opportunity. He would be the anomaly, the one who reaped the greatest rewards.
For now, he would wait, his ambitions simmering beneath the surface. When the time came, he would strike—and the world would witness the rise of a king.