After leaving the festival square, Ares walked aimlessly through the city streets. The daylight was obscured by heavy dark clouds, making the streets appear somewhat gloomy. The crowds were also sparser than usual, as if everyone had been intimidated by the spectacle of divine punishment earlier. The scornful glances that used to follow him seemed to have vanished, replaced by complex gazes mixed with curiosity, fear, and alienation. People pointed and whispered about him, but he had no time to pay them any heed.
He was immersed in exploring his own power. The "Miracle" power within him was like a restless, young beast, sometimes docile, sometimes violent, elusive and unpredictable. He tried to guide it with his will, but found that this power seemed to possess its own consciousness, not fully obedient to his commands. Sometimes, it would suddenly surge, healing his wounds, strengthening his physical abilities; other times, it would fall into silence, as if asleep, making him feel no different from an ordinary person.
What troubled Ares even more was that the "Miracle" power seemed to be closely related to his emotional fluctuations. When his mind was calm, the power was docile and restrained; but when his emotions were agitated, especially when he recalled the injustice of the divine oracle and his own experiences, that power would become unusually active, even carrying a hint of uncontrolled aggression. He vaguely realized that this "Miracle" power was not a tool that could be manipulated at will like God-given attributes, but more like a double-edged sword. If used properly, it could sever shackles and defy fate; if used improperly, it could backfire, devouring him completely.
He needed time, time and methods to understand and control this power.
Ares rented a room in a simple inn. The room was small and dimly lit, furnished only with a wooden bed and a dilapidated table, but for him now, it was enough. Closing the door, he bolted the latch and sat cross-legged in the center of the room, beginning to try and communicate with the "Miracle" power within him.
He closed his eyes, cleared his mind of distractions, and submerged his consciousness into his body to feel the presence of that power. It was like diving into the deep sea, surrounded by pitch blackness, only sensing a cold and powerful undertow surging around him. He tried to touch and guide that undertow with his consciousness, but it was like trying to grasp a slippery giant serpent with bare hands, difficult to gain purchase, and even susceptible to being countered.
Several attempts failed, instead agitating the power within him even more. Ares felt a splitting headache, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He had to temporarily abandon this crude approach and instead adopt a gentler method. He tried to empty his mind, as if merging into that power, to feel its pulse, to listen to its whispers.
Gradually, he seemed to catch some vague information. The power was not entirely disordered, but operating according to some laws he had yet to understand within a chaotic state. It seemed to be closely related to concepts like "despair," "resistance," and "will," and also seemed to contain something even more ancient, more mysterious…
Just as Ares was immersed in exploring the "Miracle" power, various rumors about him began to circulate in the city. Some said he was a blasphemous madman, cursed by the gods; others said he was a chosen one of heaven, blessed with divine power; and still others vividly described the scene of divine punishment descending at the festival, portraying him as a daring yet mysteriously powerful anomaly.
These rumors spread rapidly, like invisible tentacles, touching every stratum of the city and attracting the attention of some hidden observers.
In a secluded mansion in the city, several figures were gathered, conversing in hushed tones.
"Have you all heard about what happened at the festival? That attribute-less swordsman, Ares…" A middle-aged man in luxurious robes, with a gloomy countenance, said in a low voice. His tone was suppressed but carried an undeniable air of authority.
"Naturally, we have, my lord," a woman in black, close-fitting attire, with a capable demeanor, respectfully replied. "The news has spread throughout the city, and has even begun to spread to neighboring cities. Some see him as a madman, while others are curious about his so-called 'Miracle' power."
"Curious? Hmph, the ignorance of the commoners," the middle-aged man sneered. "What truly deserves attention is the power within him. To withstand divine punishment and survive, even to gain some power beyond common sense… this is no accident."
"Does my lord suspect… that power is related to the 'Forbidden'?" The woman asked tentatively, a barely perceptible tremor in her tone.
The middle-aged man was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded, a gloomy light flashing in his eyes. "'Miracle'… the very name is suspicious. The twelve gods created the twelve attributes, this is the foundation of the world, never have we heard of any 'Miracle' attribute. Unless… unless this power does not belong to the divine system at all, but is something… forbidden by the gods."
"If that's the case… then this person is even more dangerous," the woman frowned and said. "Once the 'Forbidden' power gets out of control, it could trigger unpredictable disasters."
"Therefore, we must find him before he completely loses control, control him, or… eliminate him," the middle-aged man said in an icy tone. "Immediately send people to investigate Ares's background, and find his hiding place as soon as possible."
"Yes, my lord," the woman obeyed. Her figure flickered and vanished into the darkness.
Similar conversations were taking place quietly in other corners of the city. Ares's name, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, stirred up ripples and disturbed the undercurrents lurking beneath the surface.
But Ares, at this moment, was still unaware of all this. He was still in the inn room, silently exploring the power of "Miracle," trying to find a trace of… direction in the chaos. He vaguely sensed that his future was no longer just about eking out a living as a "useless one", but was being drawn into a more magnificent, more dangerous, and more… full of possibilities… vortex. The seed of doubt had been planted in his heart, and this seed would eventually take root, sprout, and break through the soil, until… it shook the world ruled by divine authority.