Chapter 9: The Devil's Ascent
The three months leading to the mission at the borderlands were a grueling crucible for Darius Lionhart. While others in the palace spent their days scheming, idling, or wallowing in their own vanity, Darius devoted himself entirely to transforming his body, mind, and soul into an unshakable weapon.
Every day followed the same unrelenting pattern. He slept at precisely eight, rising at three in the dead of night. When the world was silent and still, Darius would begin his training. The royal grounds became his sanctuary, his battlefield, and his forge.
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At dawn, he practiced combat drills with the Sovereign Chains. They moved like extensions of his will, slicing through the air and embedding themselves into targets with brutal precision. Each morning, the air rang with the sound of chains striking stone and wood, splintering the training dummies he had commissioned specifically for their durability.
In the afternoons, he honed his control over his infinite mana. At first, the sheer volume of energy was overwhelming—like trying to bottle a storm. But day by day, through relentless meditation and trial, he learned to tame it. His mana no longer surged chaotically but flowed through him like a river—controlled, deliberate, and devastating.
By the end of the first month, he had developed his first signature move: Rupture.
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"Rupture," Darius murmured, testing the word as he stood in the empty training arena. The sky above was overcast, a fitting backdrop for the chaos he was about to unleash.
With a flick of his wrist, the Sovereign Chains extended, glowing faintly with the power coursing through them. Darius closed his eyes, focusing his mana into the chains, infusing them with volatile energy. When he opened his eyes again, they gleamed with a predatory light.
The chains struck the ground in a sudden, violent motion, and a wave of destructive force exploded outward. The earth cracked and splintered, jagged fissures spreading in all directions. Training dummies were torn apart, and stone pillars toppled as the shockwave of raw energy radiated outward.
When the dust settled, Darius stood in the center of the destruction, his breathing steady and his expression calm. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Not bad," he muttered.
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As the weeks turned into months, his transformation became impossible to ignore. His body, already strong, became leaner and more defined, his golden skin gleaming with health and vitality. His hair grew longer, dark and unruly, tied back into a messy ponytail that gave him a roguish air. The once-scorned illegitimate son now carried himself with an unshakable confidence that unnerved everyone around him.
The servants whispered about him in hushed tones.
"Have you seen him? He's... different now. Stronger. Scarier."
"I heard he destroyed half the training yard in a single move. The guards had to evacuate!"
"He's not the same man. It's like he's possessed by something... or someone."
Even his siblings began to notice. Tobias, still recovering from his last encounter with Darius, avoided him entirely. Seraphina, ever the composed and calculating one, observed him from a distance, her piercing gaze betraying the faintest flicker of unease.
And the king... though hardened by battle and stoic in his demeanor, even he couldn't ignore the storm brewing within his once-dismissed son.
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One evening, as Darius concluded another grueling day of training, he stood atop one of the palace towers, overlooking the sprawling city below. The wind tugged at his ponytail and the edges of his coat as he gazed into the horizon, where the borderlands lay waiting.
He clenched his fists, feeling the power coursing through him—the infinite mana that was his birthright, the Sovereign Chains that obeyed his every whim, and the unrelenting fire that drove him forward.
"This world doesn't know what's coming," he murmured to himself, his voice low and dangerous. "But they'll learn soon enough. The Devil's no longer in the details. He's here."
The next three months were a testament to what unyielding determination could achieve. Darius Lionhart was no longer a discarded son or a mere pawn in the game of kings. He was a force of nature, a devil in the making.
And his ascent had only just begun.