Mark of Divinity

"I want you to compete with Godwyn to become the leader of the Nine Realms Guild," Lionel said seriously.

As those words fell, Carlo, Alvin, and even Victor himself froze in place, stunned into silence.

Victor's crimson eyes locked onto Lionel with a sharp, piercing gaze. Hearing the proposal, his mind began to whirl. Becoming the leader of the Nine Realms Guild wasn't just an honor—it was a responsibility laden with unimaginable power and influence, stretching far beyond mere titles or territories. Godwyn, however, was already marked in Victor's plans, destined for elimination. As Leon's master, Godwyn's fate had been sealed in Victor's eyes, but he hadn't anticipated the confrontation arriving so soon.

"I should leave," Alvin said abruptly, his voice breaking through the heavy silence like a sharp blade. He stood, his movements stiff and deliberate, and without sparing Victor a glance, he walked out of the living room.

Victor didn't stop him. Instead, he exhaled a faint sigh, his thoughts already darting in multiple directions. If this duel was inevitable, he needed to ensure it happened under his terms.

"How would I compete with him?" Victor asked, his voice steady and calm, betraying none of the storm raging in his mind. "Through a test? Or a duel?"

Lionel's expression grew even more serious as he responded. "A private duel. No rules, except one—you're forbidden to kill. The winner will immediately be crowned as the leader of the Nine Realms Guild."

Victor went quiet, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The no-kill rule added an unexpected complication, but the opportunity was too monumental to ignore.

Guilds were more than just organizations in this world—they were the lifeblood of civilization. In a realm riddled with monsters, chaotic magic, and unending conflicts, guilds were humanity's strongest anchor. They didn't merely manage magi; they were the linchpins of political, economic, and military power.

Each guild was ranked: D, C, B, A, and S. The ranks defined their prestige and capability, and to ascend, a guild had to undergo rigorous evaluations set by the empire.

The Nine Realms Guild sat at an A rank, a towering entity with an expansive network, unrivaled resources, and independent territories under its dominion. It wasn't merely a guild; it was a small empire unto itself. Leading such an organization promised immense advantages, but Victor knew it wouldn't be without its challenges. The Nine Realms Guild was fractured, torn between elders clinging to old traditions and reformists advocating for change.

To take the reins of such a guild meant navigating treacherous waters. Yet, Victor's resolve hardened as he considered the proposition. Opportunities like this didn't come often, and when they did, only the bold could seize them.

"So, what do you think, young master Victor?" Lionel's voice broke through Victor's swirling thoughts.

Victor's crimson pupils snapped to meet Lionel's gaze, a sharp edge to his expression. In a tone as cool as ice, he asked, "Did you nominate me even before I agreed?"

A bead of sweat formed on Lionel's brow. Though nervous, he held his ground and nodded. "Yes, I've already nominated you, and they agreed. I also told the elders what I witnessed back then, but don't worry, young master Victor, I didn't reveal your identity. However, they've requested to meet you in person when you decide to access the guild's treasury."

Victor leaned back slightly, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest of his chair. "And what if I just kill Godwyn first?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous octave.

Lionel hesitated, visibly struggling for a response. "That's…"

Before Lionel could continue, Eirik, who had been quietly observing from the corner of the room, spoke up. "Young master Victor, I know your abilities surpass imagination, but Godwyn isn't someone to underestimate. Most might not realize this, but back in the 1900s, he stood at the pinnacle of power, a living legend alongside your grandfather, Godfrey Lothbrok. Even though rumors suggest he's been gravely injured, his strength is still unparalleled."

"That's right," Lionel added, his tone firm now. "I nominated you because, despite your youth, you've already reached the Sage realm. Your extraordinary talents and the experiences you've kept hidden might be enough to sway the elders to choose you as the leader of the Nine Realms Guild."

Victor gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. He was well aware of his qualifications and shortcomings. A direct confrontation with Godwyn would be foolish, as there were too many variables stacked against him. Beyond raw combat and magical expertise, he had yet to awaken his miracle spirit—a glaring gap in his arsenal.

Finally, Victor's lips curved into a faint smirk. "I understand now. I accept the duel."

Lionel and Eirik exhaled audibly, the tension visibly leaving their bodies. Lionel, in particular, seemed almost giddy with relief, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Is there anything else you need to discuss?" Victor asked, his tone casual now, as though they had been talking about the weather.

"No, young master Victor," Lionel replied earnestly. "Thank you for accepting my request."

Victor stood, offering a small nod. "After all, this benefits me as well."

Lionel returned the nod, his gratitude evident in his expression. "Then we'll take our leave. Good night, young master Victor."

The group rose to their feet, exchanging brief handshakes. Victor accompanied them to the front door, his imposing figure outlined by the dim lights of the villa.

Alvin was waiting near the entrance, leaning against the wall with a contemplative look. He didn't speak, nor did Victor acknowledge him.

Lionel and Eirik walked down the driveway in silence, slipping into their sleek black car. The vehicle pulled away from the villa, its headlights cutting through the dark night.

Alvin, who had been standing nearby for some time, moved closer to Victor, his expression a blend of disbelief and amazement.

"Man, I didn't mishear, did I? Sir Lionel, the Sir Lionel, asked you to become the leader of the Nine Realms Guild?" he asked, his tone laced with incredulity.

"You heard right," Victor replied coolly. "But it's not as simple as it sounds. Anyway, let's put that aside for now. We've got work to do." He clapped Alvin on the shoulder and gestured toward the backyard.

Alvin didn't ask much, his brain was too shocked that he chose to just keep quiet. The two stepped into the open space behind the villa, a vast expanse perfect for training under the quiet, moonlit sky.

Victor placed the Buddha statue down with a thud. "Show me what you've got," he said, his eyes gleaming with expectation.

"I'll do my best," Alvin replied earnestly, determination setting into his features.

He stepped forward, drawing a precise circle around the statue with practiced ease, murmuring under his breath. Victor watched intently, his arms crossed, as Alvin began the ritual.

In this world, Feng Shui wasn't just an art of placement and harmony—it was an ancient, potent form of magical power. Originating from the Eastern Empire, it had grown into a mystical practice that could manipulate the flow of energy in profound ways. Masters of Feng Shui could ward off curses, fortify defenses, or even tap into dormant magical reservoirs.

Alvin crouched, scooping up soil and sprinkling it delicately over the statue, as though performing an offering. The grains settled, turning the surface a muted earthy tone. Taking a deep breath, he began chanting, his voice steady yet carrying a resonance that sent a ripple through the air.

With each verse of the incantation, his hands carved intricate patterns in the air, the motions leaving glowing trails of light that converged toward the statue. Slowly, the energy circle on the ground pulsed, radiating faint tremors.

The statue began to hum, vibrating softly. A shadowy dragon form flickered into existence, coiling lazily around it. Tiny cracks appeared on the statue's surface, glowing faintly with golden light.

The chimes of unseen bells rang louder with every step of Alvin's ritual. He moved methodically, circling the statue, repeating incantations and gestures at precise intervals. Each movement aligned with the cardinal directions—front, back, left, right—restoring balance and harmony to the flow of energy.

Victor's sharp gaze never wavered, studying the golden runes that floated above the statue and Alvin's disciplined focus.

Finally, Alvin placed both hands on the energy circle. With a commanding gesture, the circle flared brightly, and the shadowy dragon coiled tighter around the statue.

The vibrations peaked. A loud crack shattered the stillness as the Buddha statue splintered into fragments, its remains scattering across the ground.

From the rubble, a radiant orb of white light emerged, hovering midair like a miniature sun.

Victor's lips curled into a grin. "Finally." Without hesitation, he stepped forward, snatched the orb, and swallowed it in one swift motion.

Alvin froze, his jaw dropping. "What the hell, Victor?! Are you okay? That thing… it might've been the Buddha's soul, or maybe not. No one knows for sure!"

Victor smirked, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "The legends aren't entirely wrong. But they're not completely right, either."

Alvin raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Victor replied cryptically, his smirk deepening.

Before Alvin could press further, Victor's body began to radiate an intense white light. The glow grew blinding, forcing Alvin to step back instinctively.

Victor sat cross-legged on the ground, his breathing steady but deep. Within him, his mana core—a crystalline sphere embedded in his chest—pulsed furiously. Like a second heart, it circulated mana through his body's intricate network. What was once a steady flow now surged like a torrential river, infusing him with energy that burned and revitalized every cell.

Beads of sweat trickled down Victor's face, his body trembling slightly under the strain of the overwhelming energy. The light surrounding him intensified, casting long, dancing shadows in the backyard.

Alvin, shielding his eyes, muttered, "I have a bad feeling about this." He quickly retreated into the villa, stealing glances at Victor through the window as the radiance consumed the night.

"What's happening?" Carlo asked, his voice tinged with concern as he approached Alvin, his gaze fixed on the blinding light enveloping Victor.

"Honestly? No idea," Alvin admitted, still squinting against the glow. "But he'll be fine. I think."

Carlo frowned, his eyes never leaving Victor. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease. First, Lionel had shown up with a jaw-dropping proposition for Victor to lead the Nine Realms Guild—a bombshell on its own—and now this. Victor always seemed to push the boundaries of what Carlo thought was possible.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The intense radiance around Victor began to dim, the light retreating like a tide. Alvin and Carlo exchanged a cautious glance before edging closer to him.

As the last traces of brilliance faded, Victor came into view, still seated cross-legged on the ground. At first glance, he appeared unchanged—until they noticed the diamond-shaped mark glowing faintly on his forehead. Its soft, white light pulsed rhythmically, like the heartbeat of something otherworldly.

Victor opened his eyes, and with a fluid grace, he rose, levitating effortlessly for a brief moment before landing on his feet.

His expression was calm but brimming with satisfaction. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, their intensity sharper than ever. Then, with a flicker in the air, a holographic screen materialized in front of him.

[Mark of Divinity successfully extracted and fully integrated]

Victor's lips curled into a sly smile. His gaze lingered on the words before shifting to Alvin and Carlo. The subtle, undeniable aura of power radiating from him sent a shiver down their spines.

"Well," Victor said smoothly, his voice carrying an edge of triumph, "I think that went better than expected."