Chaos' Heir

Chapter 1011: Conviction



The artificial Thilku rune was Khan's trump card. After all, he had created it for that purpose, and even incredible warriors like Izraz had succumbed to its power.

That was precisely what the spell was: Raw power. Khan had devised it to overcome the gap between levels, making it rely on the world's mana before transforming it through his destructive influence. It was tricky and clunky to use, but its effects were undeniable.

Khan had even improved the rune on Senerth, adding his newfound understanding of his mana and making it portable. He had fixed some of its greatest flaws and increased its power, achieving significant results.

Nothing could stand in the way of a massive, condensed wave of energy carrying the chaos element's nature. That probably was the most destructive spell in the world, combining the peaks of Khan's broad expertise. It was his masterpiece.

At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

Khan didn't exactly know when his senses stopped working. In one moment, he was staring at the blinding purple-red world, ready to react to the clash's outcome. The familiar images of the nightmare started filling his vision in the next. Somehow, he had fainted.

The nightmare was oddly silent. All the usual noises, images, and emotions were there, but Khan couldn't feel anything outside of it. His senses usually constantly updated him on the outside world, even while sleeping, but everything was off now.

That partial darkness didn't last long. Khan's perception suddenly reactivated, and waves of sensations flooded his brain, fending off the nightmare. He woke up, inhaling loudly and deeply, only to realize that something was wrong with his lungs. Moreover, he was lying on the arena's floor, and the problems didn't end there.

Khan coughed, and white and red spit flew out of his mouth, tainting its corners. Blood was also flowing down there, running over his cheek. He wasn't sure whether he had punctured his lungs, but they had clearly suffered some damage.

Khan managed to turn his head, only to find his right arm bent oddly. He had the body of an evolved warrior and the Nak's mutations, but his elbow had still given in. His shoulder also didn't look fine, turning his attempts to move his limb into faint tremors.

The change in perspective allowed Khan to look at the arena's state. The floor had risen and bent, turning into a metallic spiky wave. The clash had damaged it beyond repair, and the spikes' direction conveyed its winner.

The metal wave hindered Khan's vision, and his ears still rang, but the symphony told him someone was coming. Yet, the update felt pointless since he felt too weak to move, and his mind wandered, trying to recollect the previous events.

'Did the rune lose to a punch?' Khan wondered. 'Did I even use the [Blood Shield] afterward?'

Khan tried his best, but his mind was blank. That dark spot in his memory was almost traumatic for someone who had relied on his heightened senses for years. Still, he was too tired and hurt to care. No matter how Khan spun it, he had lost that battle.

Eventually, a familiar towering figure stepped on the metal wave's edge, looking down on Khan. Lord Mighty's face was littered with cuts, but most had already closed, turning into fading marks. Even his flat nose seemed fine now. Traces of Khan's best efforts disappeared with each passing second, but the Royal Guard didn't even think of mocking him.

"[You are good, Blue]," Lord Mighty announced, his loud, hoarse voice managing to pierce the ringing in Khan's ears, "[But you lack conviction]."

Khan suddenly recalled Lord Mighty's last shout, but the memory vanished as quickly as it came. He instinctively met the Royal Guard's eyes without expecting anything out of it, and nothing arrived. Lord Mighty lingered in that look for a few seconds before turning to leave, a calm expression filling his face.

The best Khan had to offer didn't only fail to leave any lasting injury on Lord Mighty. Even the excitement he had caused had been short-lived. The evolved Thilku could go on with his life as soon as the battle ended, as if it had never happened in the first place.

That behavior would usually trigger a reaction in Khan's mana, but he barely recorded the scene. His thoughts were on Lord Mighty's words, which put him into a profound pensive state.

'Me?' Khan thought. 'Lacking conviction?'

Before the mutations showed significant advantages, Khan had only relied on his determination. He didn't have any decent background nor valuable education previous to enlisting. The depths of his lack of preparations had actually made him choose a shovel over ordinary weapons in the academy's initial test. Yet, Khan had still shone brighter than his fellow recruits.

There was no trick to the accomplishment. Khan had simply trained, sweated, and bled far more than his peers. No one had even come close to working as hard as him, and the source of that power was his bottomless desperation.

That desperate, seemingly impossible desire to escape the nightmares' curse had driven Khan's every action. It didn't matter how much he suffered since his nights were worse. How much he sacrificed himself didn't matter since his life was doomed anyway. Khan had to struggle just to hope to get to everyone else's starting point, and that suicidal mindset had brought great results.

Sure, the mindset had clear flaws. A decade of recurring nightmares had twisted Khan's personality, making him disregard simple notions like self-care and happiness. Those things could only come after Khan got rid of his curse, and he was willing to do untold things to get there, especially against himself.

The world's rigged state only deepened that darkness. Khan couldn't just do more than his peers. He had to push his limits every single time, living sleepless weeks and ending up all bruised after simple sparring. He had to put his life on the line to hope to get where he needed to get faster, and he did.

However, at some point, Khan was saved.