Avian's POV

White.

Not the white of death — he knew that color intimately. This was different. The white of possibility, of potential energy seeking form.

"Get up."

The voice came from memory, from five hundred years ago when the world was ending and heroes were just men trying not to die badly.

Avian — no, Dex — opened eyes he didn't remember closing. A battlefield stretched before him, but not the arena. This was older, worse. The sky bled colors that shouldn't exist. The ground was more corpse than earth.

And there stood Brick, exactly as Dex remembered him. Scarred face, arms like tree trunks, hammer resting on one shoulder. Gore splattered his armor in patterns that would make artists weep.

"Can't," Dex heard himself say. His body — his old body, tall and scarred and dying — lay broken in the mud. "Nothing left. Finally found my limit."

"Bullshit." Brick knelt beside him, and despite everything, his eyes held warmth. "You know what makes you different from every other hero wannabe?"

"My devastating good looks?"

"Fuck off. I'm being serious." Brick gripped his shoulder, gentle despite the strength that could shatter stone. "Other heroes, they fight because they're strong. You? You fight because you won't stop. I've seen you get up from things that should have left you in pieces."

"Stubbornness isn't a virtue, Brick."

"It is when it keeps the world spinning." His friend leaned closer, voice dropping. "Remember, even though you're a hero, you're still human. You feel, you hurt, and you struggle like the rest of us. But you're not a hero because you're strong enough to fight off these evil bastards. You're a hero because you never lose your will. Your will is the brightest thing in existence. You shine even when you fall—and somehow, when you rise again, you shine even brighter."

"Pretty words from an ugly man."

"Maybe. But I'm right." Brick stood, offering his hand. "So get up, Dex. Get up and show them what happens when will decides physics can go fuck itself."

Dex took the hand. Rose despite every bone screaming. Because that's what he did.

"There's my stubborn bastard," Brick grinned. "Now go remind them why death couldn't keep you down."

The memory shattered like glass—

Arena - Present

"I don't stop."

The words came out as barely a whisper, but they carried. Aedric heard them. Saw the smile that had nothing to do with confidence and everything to do with certainty.

Something changed in the air. The crowd felt it — a pressure that made breathing difficult, made hearts skip beats. In the noble boxes, protective wards flickered to life unbidden.

Avian's eyes rolled back, showing only white. But his body moved.

He stood.

Not with grace or technique. His muscles were torn, his cultivation exhausted, his body running on nothing but will. But he stood, Fargrim rising with him.

"Impossible," someone breathed.

White light began to emanate from Avian's skin — not his aura, something deeper.

Aedric's eyes widened, seeing what others couldn't. With his cultivation at the peak of mortal achievement, he could perceive the divine chains binding his son's core — golden serpents of pure divine authority wrapped tight around the boy's cultivation.

And they were cracking.

"What—" Aedric started, genuine shock in his voice. He was seeing something that shouldn't be possible.

Avian spoke, but the voice was wrong. Layered. Like an echo of an echo of something that had refused to die.

"I don't care about this trial."

Each word hit like a physical blow. The white light intensified, and the chains cracked further.

"I couldn't give less of a damn about titles, approval, or your fucking games."

The arena floor beneath his feet began to fracture. Not from technique or power — from presence. From will so concentrated it had weight.

"But what I don't do—what I never do—is lose."

CRACK.

One chain shattered completely. Power flooded through the gap, raw and unfiltered.

"I fall. I bleed. I break. But I don't stop."

CRACK. CRACK.

More chains breaking. The white light was blinding now, forcing spectators to shield their eyes.

"I will get up again and again and again—until there's nothing left of me but will."

The remaining chains strained, divine power fighting against something more fundamental than gods.

"And even then, I'll find a way to stand."

The arena shook. Not from impact but from reality trying to process what was happening. In the stands, Seren's notebook burst into flames from proximity to power that shouldn't exist. Kai had to tackle Leontis to stop him from jumping into the arena to 'help the protagonist.'

Avian raised Fargrim, and the blade responded. Darkness poured off it in waves, meeting his white light and creating something new. Not light, not dark — will given edge.

"So, Aedric—you will move."

The last chains shattered.

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"Because I've already decided you will."

The release of power was catastrophic. Every limit broken at once, every binding shattered, every careful control abandoned. His Sixth Tier core exploded into Seventh, then kept going. Not through traditional cultivation but through sheer refusal to be contained.

His aura didn't just burn — it ignited reality. The air around him became plasma. Sand turned to glass, glass to vapor. The arena wards screamed and died.

But it was focused. Controlled by will alone. All of it condensing into Fargrim, into one strike that would prove will trumped power.

Avian moved.

The strike was everything. Every battle he'd fought as Dex. Every moment he'd refused to die. Every time he'd stood when standing was impossible. Five hundred years of spite and determination and absolute refusal to accept defeat.

Aedric's eyes widened — genuine shock at what was coming.

Their blades met.

The impact shattered reality itself. Sound became visible, a sphere of pure force expanding outward. The arena floor didn't just crack — it disintegrated in a twenty-foot radius. Sand and stone erupted upward in a massive cloud, turning the air opaque with debris.

The shockwave hit the crowd like a physical wall. Protection wards screamed and died. In the front rows, people were thrown backward. The very air seemed to compress and explode.

For a moment that lasted forever, everything was chaos — brown-grey confusion, screaming wind, the taste of ozone and crushed stone.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.

The dust cloud hung in the air like a curtain, hiding everything. No one could see the center. No one knew what had happened.

Silence.

Complete, absolute silence as fifty thousand people held their breath.

The dust began to settle, falling like brown snow. Shapes became visible in the haze — two figures, still standing.

"Look!" A young voice from the crowd, excited and disbelieving. "Look at Lord Aedric's feet!"

"His foot— he's—"

"HE MOVED!"

The rest of the dust fell away, revealing the truth to the stunned arena.

Aedric stood there, blade still raised in a blocking position, his expression one of genuine surprise. A furrow in the sand led from where his right foot had been to where it was now.

Six inches behind the silver line.

The force of Avian's strike had actually driven him back.

"He moved," someone whispered. Then louder: "HE MOVED!"

The crowd erupted. Fifty thousand voices became one roar that shook the sky. In the noble boxes, dignity died as lords and ladies screamed themselves hoarse. Gold changed hands in the betting boxes amid chaos and celebration.

But the celebration cut short as they saw Avian.

He stood perfectly still, Fargrim extended in the completion of his impossible strike. White light still leaked from his skin in wisps. His eyes were open but unseeing, blood running freely from his nose, his ears, the corners of his mouth.

A statue carved from pure will, frozen at the moment of victory.

For three heartbeats, nobody breathed.

Then Avian collapsed forward.

Aedric caught him before he hit the ground, moving with speed that made his previous stillness seem like choice. The Patriarch cradled his son with surprising gentleness, studying the unconscious face.

"I knew it," he said quietly, words meant only for the boy who'd done the impossible. "I knew you had it in you. That will of yours... it's going to change everything."

"VICTOR: AVIAN VERITAS!" The announcer's voice cracked with emotion. "THE IMPOSSIBLE HAS HAPPENED! OUR YOUNGEST LORD HAS MOVED THE IMMOVABLE! THE HEIR IS CONFIRMED!"

The chant started somewhere in the commoner section: "VERITAS! VERITAS! VERITAS!"

It spread like wildfire until the arena itself vibrated with it. Even the Emperor stood, applauding with genuine appreciation. Princess Celeste's mask had cracked completely, showing awe and calculation in equal measure.

But in the center of it all, Aedric just held his unconscious son and allowed himself a proud smile. The boy hadn't just completed the trial.

He'd shattered his own chains through will alone.

And that was just the beginning.

Medical Wing - Six Hours Later

Floating. Warm darkness without pain or pressure. Peace, except—

Something was different. Missing.

The chains.

Avian's eyes snapped open to afternoon sunlight painting an unfamiliar ceiling gold. Medical wing, from the herb smell and humming healing crystals. His body felt... strange. Light. Like he'd been carrying weights he hadn't known about and someone had finally removed them.

"Finally awake." Kai's voice, trying for casual and failing spectacularly. "Only you would win a duel while unconscious. Very dramatic. Leontis is composing an epic. It has twelve verses so far and somehow rhymes 'indomitable' with 'abominable.'"

Avian tried to sit up, stopped when the room spun. But even through disorientation, he felt it. Or rather, didn't feel it.

The chains were gone.

Completely.

He turned his attention inward, examining his cultivation properly. The divine bindings hadn't just cracked or loosened — they'd been obliterated. His Aether Core spun freely for the first time since awakening in this body, already processing the backlog of power from that aether stone months ago.

Seventh Tier. He'd broken through in the middle of combat through sheer will.

"How long?" His voice came out rough.

"Six hours. Aedric had to physically prevent Elira from force-feeding you an entire crate of healing potions." Kai grinned. "She threatened him. Actually threatened one of the Five Great Blades with a ladle. He looked more shocked by that than when you made him move."

"She's brave."

"She's insane. Good match for you." Kai's expression grew serious. "You did it, Avian. The betting houses are in chaos. No one thought... Hell, I didn't think it was possible, and I'm professionally optimistic about your chances of survival."

The door opened before Avian could respond, admitting Aedric himself. The Patriarch studied Avian with that penetrating gaze before pulling up a chair.

"Good. You're coherent." He sat with controlled grace. "We need to discuss your immediate future."

"The archives—"

"Will wait." Aedric's tone brooked no argument. "You're now officially heir to House Veritas. That comes with obligations. First among them — the Imperial Academy."

Avian's expression must have shown his opinion because Aedric almost smiled.

"Non-negotiable. Every main family member attends from fifteen to eighteen. Thane went. You'll go. It's not about education — it's about connections, showing the Empire our strength."

"I have things to do. Research that needs—"

"Your research can wait." Aedric's tone was final. "The academy won't. Whatever personal projects you're pursuing, they'll still be there in three years."

"Three years." The words tasted bitter.

"You're twelve. Academy admission is at fifteen. Until then, you're mine." Now he did smile, and it promised pain. "Personal training. Every day. No missions, no adventures, no convenient disappearances. You wanted the heir position for its access? You'll earn every scrap of it."

"Three years of your personal attention." Avian couldn't hide his dismay.

"Consider it opportunity. Three years to grow strong enough for whatever challenges you're planning to face." He stood. "Your friend is correct about your attendant, by the way. Anyone brave enough to threaten me with kitchen implements deserves recognition. Elira's promoted to your permanent personal attendant."

He paused at the door. "Rest today. Tomorrow, we begin. And Avian? What you did today — that was just the beginning. I'm curious to see what you become now that you're fighting without restraints."

The door closed with finality.

Kai whistled low. "Three years of personal training with him. You're either the luckiest bastard alive or the most doomed."

"Both," Avian muttered, already feeling his Core stabilizing at Seventh Tier. The aether stone's power was completely spent in that breakthrough - he'd need to cultivate the traditional way to reach Eighth. "Definitely both."

But even through the frustration — three years before he could seek answers — he felt something else. Hope. The chains were gone. His cultivation was free. With proper resources and training, who knew how strong he could become?

Vaerin. The Mountains of Calfont. I'm coming. Eventually. And when I get there, I'll be ready for whatever truth you're hiding.

Outside, the sun set over the capital, painting the world in shades of ending and beginning. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new growth, new steps toward answers five hundred years in the making.

But tonight, Avian Veritas — heir confirmed, chains broken, will proven — finally let himself rest.

The mountains would wait.

They'd waited this long, after all.

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