Theron awoke to his scream, veins of red peeling out across his body. They originated from his [Entangling Blood Vein Pupils] as they seemed to oddly evolve in the most mysterious of circumstances.

If before they could only Entangle Gold Mana, they could now Entangle Cloud Mana.

But the scream continued, as though he was venting out all his fury, all his frustration, all his angst and rage onto the world.

The Ice Spirit Beasts cowered, falling to the ground in prostration. Birds flew overhead, rushing away in fear and horror at the sight of it all.

Pain.

He couldn't feel anything but pain.

But it was worse than pain from a broken limb or pain from a ruptured organ. It was deep—pain in the very depths of his soul, a pain that threatened to swallow him up whole, the sort of pain Heart Demons were born from and thrived within.

And it was all his fault.

Why did he care so much about books? Why did he think that he could work with the system? Why did he think that the Nightingale Empire was worth saving and worth giving his talents to?

An Imperial Scholar? What a completely idiotic, foolish dream.

Had he cultivated from a young age instead of starting at fourteen, what could he have accomplished? Just how much had he done in not even a single year? What chance would they have had to harm his family if he reached his full potential?

He could have ripped Garethon limb from limb with his own hands, felt his flesh rend and his bone give way beneath the pressure of his palms. He could have felt that warm blood soak his hands through, soothing this frigid chill in the depths of his soul.

He wanted everyone to pay, everyone including himself.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

His father had given him his necklace from the moment he was born. He was given the short sword the moment he could walk. His parents had known about the potential within him, but they didn't influence him one way or another.

When he told them he wanted to be an Imperial Scholar, they just smiled and began using their meager salaries to get him books. His father might have trained his body to a certain extent, but it was always disguised as a family bonding session—a quiet time between father and son.

They never pressured him like this world did, they never pressed him to improve and scramble for every little thing like this world did, they never harmed him like this world did.

They were kind, their hearts were full, they never harmed a single soul in their lifetimes.

And it cost them everything.

He couldn't protect them. He couldn't protect his little sister. He couldn't protect Malaya.

All because of his worthless desire to be a good person, to work within the system to better it, to be an upstanding citizen like his parents were.

He thought that by not stepping on any toes, by being above the use of violence and strength to get what he wanted, by being a Scholar he could lead the world toward a better end.

But all that naivete led to was pain. Pain for his family. Pain for Malaya. Pain for himself.

Theron's throat went hoarse, his gentle voice becoming scarred and broken. It deepened and became a mangled mesh of rage and unbridled fury.

Blood spurted into mists from his throat, a flame raging deep within him.

Chi.

The sound of something breaking echoed, but drowned out by Theron's fury, it fell on ears deafened by the noise.

Theron's voice finally ran out of steam, his throat ripped to shreds by his own screams.

Even then, he continued, even when it came out clipped and hushed.

But then even his lungs ran out of air to supply, and he collapsed.

He lay there in piles of snow, his body flashing with layers of ice before it shattered and then repeated the process again, and again, and again.

Every breath Theron took, the process repeated, and then repeated again, and then repeated once more.

But every time it did so, Theron's Water Mana Resonance seemed to grow to another level. Step by step, the Ice Mana was being consumed.

No, it wasn't Ice Mana being consumed… but the Ice Spirit itself.

Theron seemed to be devouring the Ice and turning it to Water. And as he did so, his Echoes, his Resonance, and his Water Mana Meridians grew.

From the beginning, Theron had known that he had been born into a family of Ice Mancers. In fact, amongst his entire family—whether that was his mother, his father, or Little Bobo—each and every one of them had been assessed as an Ice Mancer.

Just this fact alone should have set his family up for life. Ice Mancers were rare and known to be quite powerful Mancers. There was certainly a place for them in any Sect so long as their Resonances were decent.

But for whatever reason, his family had chosen a small village… and equally as baffling, he was the only Water Mancer amongst them.

For as long as Theron could remember, whenever he had a thought of self-control and restraint, cold was pulled out from his body and entered his father's necklace. In fact, it was so common to him that he didn't even know it was happening until the opposite started to occur.

The more he entered the world of cultivation, the more rage he experienced, and the more heat began to be pulled from his body instead.

This heat had just reached a point of no return, a point of so much unbridled fury that Theron's soul had even shattered the tendrils of chill that threatened to freeze him to death.

And now, rapidly looking for a balance, the Ice Spirit the mercenaries had been trying so hard to control was shattered into pieces by Theron's mere existence. He wasn't even aware of his destruction of it.

Yet, oddly enough…

Theron's cultivation was still at the Quasi Gold Resonance.

What was even odder was that his soul wasn't.

His soul had crossed the barrier into Gold Mancy and was still rapidly accelerating in growth.

As though all of this wasn't odd enough…

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