430: Authority 430: Authority “I’ve learned,” Max said, his voice genuine, steady, and filled with gratitude.
“And it’s all thanks to you, Blob.” He wasn’t speaking out of politeness—he ant every word.
If Blob hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t challenged him, hadn’t planted the seed of doubt in his overconfident path… Max knew he would have kept walking that broad, hollow road, mistaking accumulation for progress.
“Good, but there are more to follow,” the tower spirit’s voice echoed once more in Max’s mind, calm yet unwavering, as another figure began to erge from the thick grey mist.
Slowly, step by step, a new warrior took form—its silhouette familiar yet unknown, carrying a pressure that promised another fierce trial.
But this ti, Max didn’t tense.
He didn’t brace in fear.
A small smile tugged at his lips, sharp and eager.
“Good,” he muttered, his voice low with anticipation.
“I was itching for a battle right now.” His eyes glead with quiet fire, not because he sought victory, but because he wanted to test—to hone and consolidate everything he had just understood.
The simplicity of the sword.
The clarity of intent.
The flow of motion and thought as one.
What followed in the next series of battles wasn’t just a display of raw strength or reckless offense—it was the quiet blooming of a warrior carving his path with unwavering focus.
Warrior after warrior erged from the mist—so fast, so overwhelming, so wielding strange weapons or rare elental auras.
But Max, with nothing more than his sword and the resolve forged from his newfound understanding, faced each one without hesitation.
He parried, slashed, sidestepped, and struck—all with a rhythm that felt less like battle and more like a flowing dance of purpose.
Through every battle, his grip on his sword way deepened, sharpened like the edge of his blade.
One step, one breath, one swing—no wasted motion.
The warriors fell, not in grand explosions or chaotic flurries, but in monts of cold, exact conclusion.
In the end, all the most warriors were defeated as the red narrowed eyes once again appeared in the mist around Max.
“Is that all?” Max asked.
“The tests have not ended yet.” The temple spirit said.
“Co on then.” Max said pointing his sword at the tower spirit.
— Outside the towering presence of the Pillar of Divine Appraisal, tension hung like a thick cloud over the tenth floor of the Tower of Truth.
The vast stone platform, usually calm and ditative, was now crowded with figures from all three races—humans, elves, and demons—all gathered for one singular purpose: waiting for Max Voidwalker.
What had begun as mild curiosity had now evolved into a spectacle that drew even the most reclusive of geniuses from their solitude.
Especially demons.
More and more demons arrived with every passing mont, their dark cloaks fluttering, their sharp eyes narrowed with suspicion and growing irritation.
Their numbers swelled, their presence heavy, radiating an oppressive aura that only fueled the tension in the air.
Among them, whispers and growls echoed—questions turning to complaints, complaints turning to frustration.
“Why is he still inside?” so muttered.
“How long can one man take?” The glowing na Max Voidwalker still shone brilliantly at the very top of the monolith, the first line where only legends had once stood, and its steady light reminded everyone that his assessnt hadn’t yet ended.
And that alone had stunned even the most arrogant among them.
Elves stood in quiet contemplation, humans tried to mask their anticipation, but it was the demons who grew visibly restless.
Their pride wounded, their patience thinning.
No one had ever remained within the assessnt for this long.
No one.
The longer Max stayed inside, the more his na began to cast a shadow over everyone present.
Each second that passed without his ergence only added more weight to his legend.
For the first ti in ages, the geniuses of all three races—those who were hailed as future monarchs and unrivaled talents—felt small, waiting not for an equal, but for sothing that might far surpass them all.
And the demons, prideful and stubborn, were beginning to hate that feeling.
They had always suppress humans at the bottom, treated them like livestocks so seeing not one but two humans rising so fast in the Pillar of Divine Appraisal irked them the most.
They couldn’t wait to slaughter them all.
Just then, a heavy-built figure appeared in the tenth floor, his presence shifting the very air in the room.
A hulking demon with sharp crimson eyes and a massive black sword strapped across his back walked forward with slow, purposeful steps, his aura imdiately blanketing the space in a heavy silence.
His gaze swept across the crowd, piercing through elves, humans, and fellow demons alike, before locking onto the towering Pillar of Divine Appraisal in the distance—its first line still glowing with the na Max Voidwalker.
As soon as the demon entered, all eyes turned toward him, the atmosphere shifting from tense anticipation to stunned apprehension.
Even the whispering stopped for a heartbeat, until the murmurs began to ripple once more—this ti laced with shock and dread.
“Is that… Craig?
The Number One Seat of the Demon Race?” “Damn, that’s Craig!
He’s actually co here?
Does that an he’s going to kill Max?!” “I wouldn’t be surprised.
He holds an Authority… he can kill anyone in the Tower if it’s with his own strength.” “This just got interesting.” Demons were celebrating seeing him in the tenth floor while humans were frowning hard and so did the elves seeing that demon.
Princess Lenavira’s eyes narrowed the mont she caught sight of the demon.
Her usually composed face darkened, a flicker of warning flaring in her gaze.
Alice, noticing the shift, turned to her curiously.
“Big Sis Lena, is that guy dangerous?” she asked, her tone still light, unaware of the weight behind the growing tension.
Lenavira’s voice dropped low, her expression grim.
“He’s more than dangerous.
That’s Craig—the First Seat of the Demon Race.
One of the top geniuses across all three races.
He’s not just strong… he’s been given Authority.
He can kill anyone he wants.” Alice blinked in confusion.
“Authority?
What do you an?
I thought killing was only allowed inside the arena.
Isn’t it impossible to kill soone in the Tower otherwise?” “You’re right,” Lenavira nodded, her voice heavy.
“Normally, it is impossible.
The Tower doesn’t allow death outside the arena.
But there are exceptions.
Each race’s five-seat mbers—those at the peak of genius—are granted one chance.
One ti where they can legally kill anyone in the tower with their own strength.
That one chance… is called Authority.” She paused, her gaze hardening as she looked at Craig’s looming figure.
“And if Craig decides to use it… the Tower won’t stop him.
He could kill Max, right here.
And there would be nothing we could do.” Alice’s eyes widened, her earlier curiosity giving way to shock.
Her heart clenched as she stared at Craig.
“What…?” she breathed, the word barely escaping her lips.
For the first ti, she realized just how twisted and dangerous the politics of power within the Tower truly were.
And sowhere inside her, a chilling thought settled in—’Max doesn’t even know this.’ CREATORS’ THOUGHTS ShinGotLost Your gift is the motivation for my creation.
Give more motivation!
User Comments
0 comments from readers