Iza 's evolution . During that time, John had suspended his own training and turned his full attention to helping her adapt to her new body. Although they were both at the same level—Primary, Level 1—the difference in strength between them was still glaring. John had too much experience, too much mastery. The Druid's path was unique and vast, full of ramifications. Animal transformations and the summoning of nature spirits were among his greatest weapons. His attacks, at their core, were financial, brute, and direct.
Under the gray sky that afternoon, the two met for a training session. John stood firm, watching the girl 's every move carefully . Although she was a demi-human, Iza never displayed visible animal traits on her body. Before, her appearance resembled that of a common humanity—until the moment of evolution. Now, the change was noticeable. She could change parts of herself according to the instincts that guided her.
Clang . Clang . Clang . Sharp claws slashed violently. Iza charged furiously, sliding sideways, attacking from left and right. She held no weapons—her own hands were transformed into natural blades, as sharp as razors.
Using her newly awakened ability, Iza altered her hands, legs, and eyes. Her wolf-shaped claws gleamed in the light, and her legs had sturdy, muscular paws. Her eyes... vertical, savage eyes , like those of a beast in ambush. It was the primary transformation of the man-animal druid —a rudimentary stage, but still powerful. It enhanced her speed, strength, agility, and endurance. At her current level, the gains were still modest, but enough for her to keep up with John in direct combat.
With her body lowered, she gathered momentum. Like an arrow released from a bow, you shot straight at him. Your claws cut through the air in sequence, releasing spiritual beams in the shape of wolf blades.
—Polar Star Magic Art: Ice Wall— John 's voice resounded firmly, the words in Baboan language intertwined with magic. In an instant, a wall of crystalline ice manifested between them.
But Iza didn't back down. Crash. Crash. Crash. The claws slammed into the icy wall like hammers of fury. time.Two.Three.Four.Five.Six.Ten.After the tenth impact, cracks began to appear in the magical structure.
— Water Ball! —John 's voice echoed firmly.
To Iza's surprise, as soon as she cut the last crack in the ice wall, she was hit head-on by a liquid sphere twice the size of a soccer ball. Instinctively, she crossed her claws in front of her body. The pressure of the impact pushed her backward, making her retreat several steps over the uneven ground, but without knocking her over completely.
— Water Ball! —Without time to breathe, a second sphere came tearing through the air towards her. Iza used the wolf's bestial speed, dodging it by a hair's breadth.
— Water Balls! —John raised his hand with precision, conjuring several spheres that floated for an instant before advancing. The sight was like a storm of liquid projectiles . Iza dodged three with fierce agility, but the others reached her without mercy.
The impact sent her flying. Her body spun wildly before crashing into the ground violently, kicking up dust and leaving a visible crack in the ground, as if it were almost forming a crater.
— Are you okay?! — Concern overflowed in John's voice, and he ran to her.
"I'm fine," Iza replied breathlessly . The next moment, her form began to reverse. Her claws dissolved like mist, revealing small, delicate hands. Her paws became feet again, her vertical pupils became round again. There were no visible animal parts left on her body.
John reached out and helped her up, supporting her carefully. He touched her shoulder, checking for any injuries. When he confirmed that everything was in order, he stroked her hair lightly, as if to dissipate the weight of the accumulated tension.
"Let's call it a day. You don't seem to have any elemental power left," he muttered, his tone softer.
Iza nodded, visibly tired. After catching her breath a little, she turned to him with hopeful eyes.
— John... how did I do this time?
He smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but the kind of smile that warmed the heart.
— You did very well. You managed to maintain your transformation for a minute and a half. And you still reacted quickly to my attacks. That's real progress.
Iza's eyes shone, filled with sincere joy. With a determined air, she declared with conviction:
— I will become stronger. I will protect you... and Alex.
John nodded slowly, his eyes showing a mixture of pride and anticipation. The idea of seeing her stronger pleased him.
After training, John took a quick shower and rested for a while in his room. The afternoon was already well advanced when a maid knocked softly on the door.
— Mr. Fernando is waiting in the living room — she said, with a slight bow.
John stood up, drying his hair with a towel. The mention of Fernando's name was enough to change his expression.
Without delay, John went downstairs to meet Fernando in the main hallway.
"Father, did you call me?"
"Yes. How are Iza and Alex?"
John thought for a moment. "Iza is fine; she's adapted to her new body and is mastering her new skills. As for Alex… I haven't seen him in a while."
"Very good." Fernando frowned, remembering ‑something. "Ah, don't worry about Alex. He's been training with Keto. In fact, he's already reached intermediate level 2 of the Primary Being."
John's eyes widened: he had been the first to evolve, but now Alex had surpassed him.
"Don't make that face." Fernando laughed and patted his son on the back. "Alex is a pure warrior; you are a ‑warrior mage. It's natural that he advances faster in levels, but in combat prowess, you are still equal."
Even so, John remained skeptical. The higher the level, the greater the reserve of spiritual energy. Alex, as a warrior, would concentrate all his power on martial arts, while John would need to divide ‑it between magic and sword. If the fight dragged on, he would run out of reserves and would lose—something the Oni had already warned him about: against superior opponents, he would only win with intelligence and strategy.
"But I called you for another reason: we have visitors," Fernando continued.
"Visitors? Who would they be?"
"Come with me; I'll show you." Fernando turned ‑toward the east wing, but footsteps sounded behind them. Father and son turned and saw Leonel Albert accompanied by his daughter, Vitória Albert .
— Greetings, Fernando — greeted Prince Leonel Albert , with his usual elegance.
Fernando returned the gesture, maintaining a neutral air. His gaze, however, had a hint of irony.
— You finally decided to leave the room, Prince Leonel.
Leonel smiled as if he ignored the jab.
— I told you before, just call me Leonel. After all, we are friends, aren't we?
Fernando let out a loud laugh.
— My mistake, then. Leonel... do you have something to discuss with me?
— How about we sit down and talk first? — suggested Leonel Albert .
— Sure, sure. Let's sit down, then.
The four of them—Leonel, Fernando, Vitória, and John—took their respective seats in the large living room. A little later, one of the maids approached discreetly, carrying a tray with an ornate porcelain bottle and small cut-glass cups. She served the tea with gentle hands, without saying a word.
Moments later, Catarina came down the steps, attracting attention.
— Greetings, Prince Leonel. Young princess — she said gracefully, her voice firm and serene. She walked over to the group and sat down next to Fernando and John. As always, she looked stunning in her navy blue dress, her loose black hair falling over her shoulders like strands of obsidian. Victoria, upon seeing her, felt a twinge of insecurity. It was the difference between the refined beauty of a mature woman and the still-forming delicacy of youth.
"It's great that you joined us, Catarina," Leonel commented, taking a sip of his tea. Noticing that his cup was almost empty, Catarina kindly poured him more.
Leonel then looked at Fernando and, with a mischievous air, winked.
— My good friend Fernando… how about a wedding?
Fernando froze. At the same moment, he spat out the tea he had in his mouth in an awkward jet. Everyone in the room turned their eyes to him, astonished: John stared at him in confusion, Catarina raised her eyebrows, and Vitória seemed not to know whether to laugh or blush.
— What the hell, why would I marry you?! I don't play that way! — Fernando growled , irritated.
— Hahaha ! — Leonel burst out laughing. — Don't get me wrong, Fernando! It's not your problem!
With a gesture, he pointed directly at John, who shuddered as if he had been spiritually struck.
Before the misunderstanding could grow, Leonel cleared his throat and declared:
— I want to unite my daughter to your lineage. I want to marry my daughter to your son. What do you say?
A triumphant smile appeared on the prince's lips, as if he was already certain of the answer.
Fernando, still composing himself, blinked a few times. The surprise was genuine.
— Huh? Was that it? It's just that ... for a moment I thought... — he scratched the back of his neck and then frowned — Wait. What?! Did I hear that right?
John, Catherine and Victoria were shocked by Leonel Albert 's words . Confused and tense glances crossed the room like arrows fired aimlessly, alternating between Ferdinand and the prince. The atmosphere, which until then had been merely formal, was now heavy with the force of a royal decree.
John, despite his mature soul, was trapped in the body of a child. In everyone's eyes, he was nothing more than a boy — and so he had no say in a matter of this magnitude.
Fernando gave a bitter laugh. His eyes met Catarina's, and with a silent look they exchanged more than words could ever express. Then he answered with restrained serenity:
— Leonel, I appreciate your proposal. Unfortunately, I will not be able to accept it.
Leonel nodded slightly, as if he hadn't heard correctly. With the confidence of someone who is used to having the world bent to his will, he said:
— Of course, of course... We'll have the wedding in the capital, when John turns fifteen...
However, Fernando's words finally sunk in. Leonel stopped abruptly. His face hardened. He stood up straight, his eyes flashing with disbelief and wounded pride.
— What did you say? How dare you reject me ?
The prince's imposing presence, combined with his position as the greatest researcher in the kingdom, was evident in every syllable. The room, which had been lukewarm before, was now burning with tension.
"Lord Fernando," he said, his voice full of authority, "I, Leonel Albert , offer my precious daughter's hand to your son. And you have the courage to refuse? What, exactly , gives you such audacity?"
John was stunned. No one had even asked him if he wanted to get married. It was as if he were just a pawn in a game he didn't know the rules of.
But then Fernando replied with calculated coldness:
— Calm down, Leonel. I'm not rejecting you or your daughter.
— So what is it? — the prince retorted , sitting down again, but without hiding his frustration.
Fernando rested his elbows on his knees and interlaced his fingers. His voice was firm and direct:
— It's just that ... John is already engaged. That's why we can't accept.
John's jaw nearly hit the floor. Fiancé? Since when? Why hadn't he known about it himself until now? And more importantly: who was the bride? Iza? Some other girl he had forgotten about?
Fernando pulled a small photograph from inside his jacket and handed it to Leonel Albert . The prince examined it with an expression full of displeasure. His eyebrows furrowed more and more, and his eyes became slits of indignation.
—You are rejecting my beautiful daughter to marry your son to... a man ? — he roared , almost standing up again.
John felt his head spin. He was technically a thirty-three-year-old adult, but in the body of a nine-year-old child. And now he found out that his own father was promising him in marriage to a... boy ?
— Who said I would marry my son to a man? Don't insult me — Fernando growled, his eyes burning with indignation.
— So what is this?! This is clearly a man! And an ugly one, to make matters worse! — he shouted. Albert , pointing contemptuously at the photograph he still held.
John was on the verge of collapsing. The whole situation seemed like a cruel comedy. Victoria, next to him, tried to contain her laughter, but she couldn't resist: she covered her mouth with her hand and let out small laughs, which echoed like needles piercing John's pride.
Fernando arched an eyebrow, looked at Leonel and muttered:
— He's a man...
— He's not a man — Fernando replied, his eyes half closed.
As the two argued heatedly, the photograph slipped from Leonel Albert 's hands and fell to the floor. John quickly bent down to pick it up. As he looked at the image, he frowned in confusion.
The figure in the photograph was that of a child—a girl, presumably—but who looked more like a boy in drag. Her hair was a deep blue, cut so short it looked like the work of a ruthless pair of scissors. Her large, lively eyes almost jumped out of the frame, and in the middle of her wide smile, two front teeth were missing, creating an image that was simultaneously ridiculous and endearing.
John felt the weight of the absurdity on his shoulders.
But before anyone could comment, Catarina's palm slammed down firmly on the small table in front of her.
"Shut up," she ordered with rare authority, interrupting the clash.
Silence fell like a decree. The two men retreated, falling silent under the woman's incandescent gaze.
Catarina lifted her chin, her eyes fixed on Leonel.
— Prince Leonel , it would be an honor for our family to join yours through marriage. However, we already have a commitment to fulfill regarding John's marriage. If Your Highness still insists... I fear that your daughter will only be able to be the second wife.
The last sentence was said with absolute coldness, as if cutting the air with a silver blade.
Leonel turned pale, then blushed.
— My daughter? Second wife? Never! She has to be the main one! This... boy , or girl, or whatever this creature in the photo is, let him be the second!
John rolled his eyes from side to side, trying to follow the direction the conversation was taking. It was like watching the founding of his own harem—a crystal harem, fragile, glittering, and absurd. Even in his past life, he had never had a wife. Now, out of nowhere, he had two brides, appearing like ghosts from a destiny he had not chosen.
Catarina sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment before saying:
—I'm afraid we can't accept it, Prince Leonel. Our family can't afford to offend the other party involved.
Leonel puffed out his chest, inflamed with pride.
— And who would that other party be? I, Leonel Albert , swear by my surname that I will deal with this matter!
But then, as if a cold blade had pierced his lucidity, Leonel stopped. A bitter seed of doubt germinated in his mind. Fernando had always been a reasonable man. Intelligent. Prudent. If he was refusing an alliance with a prince, a member of one of the three great families, then... who would be the other side?
The answer came. And it fell like thunder.
"John's bride," Catarina said, her voice sharp as the edge of a sword, "is the youngest daughter of the Lord of Benguela."
A deathly silence fell over the room. Leonel Albert felt his throat dry up.
"Damn..." he thought. "That old fool... how did he know John would be a mountain of gold? And he already snatched him! Damn him! That old man is really cunning..."
The Lord of Benguela. A name that even the prince preferred to avoid. In the kingdom of Ngola , after the capital, Benguela was the most prosperous territory, the true economic capital of the kingdom. A power that not even the royalty wanted to pick a fight with.
Leonel took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. His wounded pride would not retreat so easily.
— Very well. I will go to Benguela. I will pay that old man a personal visit. After all, he must give the prince a face.
Fernando and Catarina exchanged a quick glance. They both thought the same thing, without needing to say it out loud:
"Keep dreaming... if the Lord of Benguela will give a face to a prince. That old man's arrogance reached heaven..."
Even Leonel seemed to doubt his own words. There was a hesitation in his posture, as if his bravado had hit an invisible wall.
Catarina, realizing the gap, did not hesitate to transfer the weight of the decision.
— Prince Leonel, then we will leave this matter for Your Highness and the Lord of Benguela to resolve between themselves.
Fernando leaned forward slightly and asked, in a direct voice:
— And which of your daughters would be John's bride?
Leonel snapped his fingers. A gentle glow erupted from his storage ring, and with a slight tremor of energy, a photograph appeared in his hand. He calmly handed it to Fernando.
— Her name is Lucira , my youngest daughter. She is the same age as John — he declared, with a certain pride in his eyes.
Fernando examined the image. The silence lasted only a few seconds before his expression turned into a mixture of shock and disbelief.
— Isn't that a corpse?
— Corpse? How dare you call my precious daughter a corpse?! — Leonel retorted , offended.
The ensuing discussion bordered on the surreal. Voices overlapped, absurd arguments thrown about with aristocratic seriousness. A veritable diplomatic battle over... Lucira 's appearance .
Somehow, inexplicably, the photograph escaped the dispute and flew through Catarina's hands, bouncing off the edge of the table until it was caught by John. He, already exhausted by the whirlwind of the day, held the image with trembling fingers.
As John looked at the photograph, he felt the weight of the world fall off his shoulders.
The girl's skin was so pale it resembled dead porcelain. Her eyes, although open, seemed empty, as if her soul were absent. Her hair, a deep red, was strangely reminiscent of Victoria's. There were similarities between the two, but Lucira seemed... drained , like a flower dipped in ice.
"First a bride who looks like a boy... now another who looks like a corpse..." he thought, sinking deeper and deeper into his own melancholy.
After some time, tempers cooled and the hall returned to an artificial calm.
— We leave the subject of marriage for the future — said Leonel Albert , with a restrained sigh.
— Agreed — replied Catarina and Fernando, almost in unison.
Leonel then turned to Fernando, more solemn:
—Fernando, my daughter and I will leave at dawn. There are several pending matters that require my attention.
— I understand — Fernando replied with a slight nod.
They continued their conversation for another two hours, now more civilized, with restrained laughter, vague promises and subtle goodbyes.
After the commotion in the living room about the possible arranged marriages, Ferdinand decided to take John to the training area of Venhorst Castle . The intention was clear: to clear his head, to allow his son a moment of focus and normality after the bombardment of nonsense.
As they walked through the halls of polished stone and ancient tapestries, John asked one question after another, still troubled by the idea of a marriage arranged before he was even born.
Fernando listened to him patiently, his rhythmic footsteps echoing between the columns.
"It's okay, John. If you don't want to get married, no one will force you," he said, his voice firm and reassuring.
John nodded, still processing his father's words, as the room ahead opened up onto a vast arena of pale stone, bathed in sunlight filtering through tall, enchanted stained-glass windows. The clang of swords clashing and muffled cries of exertion filled the air.
John's eyes widened. There they were—familiar and beloved figures. Alex and Iza, the young prodigies of the Bo Barbarian Tribe and the Water Clan. Also present were Barbara Bo and Beatrice, both in their training gear, worn with wear and pride.
As soon as Fernando and John approached, everyone stopped their exercises and bowed respectfully. Their bow to Fernando was solemn. The bow to John was full of energy and expectation.
— They're all gathered here. They're getting ready to leave for the Institute in the next few days — Fernando explained, noticing the surprise on his son's face.
John nodded slowly, taking in the scene. His eyes swept over Beatrice and Barbara Bo . With a subtle flick of his fingers, he activated his spiritual sonar, allowing him to sense the energy flows around them. Both of them had already reached the peak of Level 2 of the Primary Realm .
"They evolved only three months ago... and they've already come this far, even with the limitations of their homelands?"
— Very good... they're already at the peak of level 2. Really impressive — John commented, letting out a slight smile.
Beatriz responded with the coldness worthy of her clan:
—The peak of level 2 is not something we should be proud of in front of the Young Lord.
Bo Bárbaro, with his chest puffed out and his eyes shining with determination, replied proudly:
— It won't take me long to reach level 3. That's for sure.
John let out a hearty laugh, the sound reverberating lightly in the air.
— That is the spirit of a true warrior.
Iza and Alex approached the conversation circle. Alex, always showing off, crossed his arms with a triumphant expression and let his aura manifest, revealing that he had already reached intermediate level 2.
Fernando gave a slight smile and placed his hand on his son's shoulder.
— I won't disturb your training anymore. Junior , stay and train with your peers. — His voice carried a note of calm confidence.
— All right, Dad — John replied, with a respectful look.
Fernando walked away calmly, leaving them in the bright morning sun.
John then turned to the group with a defiant expression, his eyes alive like they hadn't been in a long time.
— Who would like to be my training partner today?
Alex, Iza and Beatriz responded in unison, almost tripping over each other's words.
- I want!
Only Bo Barbaro remained silent. With his arms crossed and his jaw clenched, he watched John emotionlessly. To him, the Young Lord was still at the peak of Level 1 , one step below his own level. He did not consider him worthy of facing him—not out of disdain, but out of conviction.
For Iza, it was different. She seemed excited about any activity that involved John. There was a spark in her eyes, somewhere between admiration and youthful enthusiasm.
Alex, in turn, wanted to test not only John's strength, but also his leadership. He wanted to know if the Venhorst heir was just a name or a true warrior.
Beatriz remained neutral on the outside, but deep down, she was evaluating him with a clinical eye. She wanted to see if he was just skilled with words or if he could also fight.
John looked around, seeing three raised hands and a fourth silent opponent. For a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Among everyone here, I'm only stronger than Iza. If I fight everyone at the same time... I'll be crushed."
— I will be your training partner once again.
The firm voice cut through the air like a banner raised in the wind. Everyone turned around immediately.
The young Princess Victoria walked with serene steps and impeccable posture, wearing her white training uniform with gold trim. Those present bowed in respect, but she only nodded slightly, her eyes fixed on John.
Fernando, who was already walking away, stopped when he heard the princess's voice.
"I want to see how much better you've gotten… in a week," she said, with a cold, almost scientific curiosity.
"Since the young princess has volunteered, then I dare to trouble her a little," John replied, trying to sound confident.
Tension rose like an invisible wave. Everyone present moved away, making enough space in the center of the arena. It was an unequal battle, and everyone knew it.
Still, Iza was silently rooting for John. Her fists were clenched, and the gleam in her eyes revealed hope . Alex kept a serious look, his jaw clenched. Anyone who faced John in that arena would have his full attention . Beatriz watched with attentive eyes and dilated pupils. The energy around Vitória made her heart race. For her, it was like staring into a bottomless pit of living flames .
Even Bo Barbaro, the most reluctant to acknowledge John, tensed. His tribal instinct roared like a chained beast: "Danger!" Something inside him told him that this girl was not only powerful... she was lethal.
Fernando appeared next to the group of young people, his eyes fixed on the center of the arena.
— Pay close attention to this battle. There is much to be learned from it — he said, his voice deep and ceremonial.
Two beams of light cut across the training field, materializing two familiar figures: Catarina and Felícia.
The presence of the mother and the teacher intensified the atmosphere, as if the arena had been transformed into a sacred stage.
— This will be our last training session... so come with everything, okay? — said Victoria with a slight smile on the corner of her lips.
"Okay," John replied with a firm nod.
The next moment, a voice resounded within him. It was not spoken in words, but it vibrated in his soul with absolute clarity.
[ Let's use this opportunity to test your body's limits. I'll help you. ]
It was the Oni .
[I will use Crimson Energy to minimize the consumption of your elemental power. I will also be chanting incantations so that you can cast spells almost instantly.]
John took a deep breath. His blood vibrated with an ancient, wild energy. It was time to show that, even though he was behind in power, he was still the heir of the Venhorsts .
[But using Crimson Energy will deplete the body's life force. Are you really willing to do that?]
—How much life force? — John whispered , without hesitation.
[ Three to four months shelf life. ]
John took a deep breath, his eyes half closed. For a moment, the world seemed suspended in time.
— Alright then — he replied, in a firm, almost serene voice.
"What are you muttering to yourself?" Victoria asked , frowning slightly.
— Nothing. Just remembering the enchantments — John replied, without changing his expression.
— Let's begin, then.
- Yes.
With a subtle move, Victoria suppressed her evolution base, causing her spiritual presence to diminish and match John's level. Now, she was at Peak Level 1 of the Primary stage.
— Young princess , you can go up a little. Up to Level 2 of the Peak — John said, his eyes fixed on her.
Victoria arched an eyebrow.
—Are you sure? One level difference means I will use more elemental power than you.
- Yes.
For a brief moment, the training ground seemed to waver. As Victoria raised her evolution base to the Peak of Level 2 , an intense, warm aura took shape around her. The air trembled.
John closed his eyes. He breathed in slowly. His mind went blank, and his consciousness sank into absolute silence.
He and the Oni had already decided. They couldn't save their strength. Given John's low level, the only possible strategy was to attack with everything from the start, before his energy ran out.
Victoria raised a hand. A bow appeared in her fist with a flash of golden light, as if it had been forged from the sun itself.
John knew this pattern. He had trained with her many times. She always started the same way.
A flaming arrow formed and was fired at him with pinpoint accuracy .
Without even opening his eyes, John moved his body to the side and avoided the shot.
I knew what was coming next: three flaming arrows at the same time.
The exact moment they were released, John jumped into the air. Time seemed to slow down.
Then, a fifth arrow , fast as lightning and aimed straight at his face, cut through the sky.
Still in mid-air, and without opening his eyes, John raised his hand and grabbed the arrow with his bare fingers . The impact sparked on his skin, but he resisted.
He landed lightly, his knees bending gently as he touched the ground. Silence was immediate.
Everyone present stared at him, open-mouthed.
"What is he trying to do?" was the collective thought on the incredulous faces.
[We can begin.] The Oni's voice echoed firmly in the sea of the soul.
"Okay," John replied, his eyes finally opening.
They glowed with a crimson light.
Finally, John opened his eyes.
The instant he did so, a sudden and stunning change took over the field.
Your sonar has been activated.
A blue aura covered his entire body. But it wasn't the old aura of water, soft and vibrant. It was something different, colder. Icy . Sharp. Deadly. The new aura was as blue as the heart of a glacier, surrounded by crystalline particles that floated around him like shards of ice suspended in time.
John charged forward, closing the distance between himself and Victoria with a burst of precise speed. His body weaved between the flaming attacks that sliced through the air, dodging them with ease and precision.
Right.Left.Up.Down .
Not a single arrow touched him. His every move was like a predator dancing on the edge of a blade.
Boom.
John's fist collided with Victoria's bow, an impact that echoed like a clap of contained thunder.
"You have indeed grown stronger," Victoria said , her eyes shining with respect, but not giving in. "But it is still not enough."
The arc dissolved into thin air like a flame consumed by the wind.
At the same instant, a longsword wreathed in flames appeared in his right hand, radiating heat and concentrated elemental power.
Clangor.
John responded with the same firmness. He drew his sword directly from his storage ring, the steel glinting as it reflected the icy blue aura. In the next instant, the two clashed again.
Clang . Clang . Clang .
The swords crossed with rhythmic violence, making lightning strike deep into the air. Each strike was followed by an impeccable defense.
John reacted with almost supernatural speed, blocking attacks while counterattacking between gaps, trying to find a flaw in the princess's defenses.
But his attacks, however precise they were, were repelled with the same mastery.
Victory not recovered.
John wouldn't give in.
The field will become a stage of steel, fire and ice.
Author 's note :
John has finally begun to show his claws... but will that be enough in the face of the young Princess Victoria, whose presence makes even a barbarian tremble? The duel has only just begun, and the cost is already involving months of life. How many readers are willing to pay that price along with him?
If you enjoyed this chapter, comment on what you thought of John 's new aura , vote to contribute to the story and share your theories . Every comment and donation gives me strength to continue shaping this universe. The battle continues — and it will either burn... or freeze everything. It depends on who wins.
Continued.