"I feel that my f..." Ross began, but the surge of energy caught him mid-sentence.
He groaned, clutching his face with both hands and bending forward slightly, groaning in a deliberately exaggerated display as if the stone were burning him alive.
The crowd collectively held its breath.
So gasped, while others leaned in closer, unsure whether Ross was in grave danger or not.
For one full minute, Ross remained in the act—staggering slightly, teeth clenched, aura flaring wildly, his entire body shaking as though it were struggling to contain the stone’s overwhelming power.
The room was utterly silent; even the sounds of elental powers in the hall seed to fade in comparison.
Every eye was fixed on him, every mind straining to comprehend what they were witnessing.
Then, gradually, he straightened.
Slowly, deliberately, he removed his hands from his face and lifted his head.
The aura around him pulsed with quiet authority, the chaotic sparks condensing into a faint shimr that circled his body like a halo.
The change was undeniable—subtle yet unmistakable.
His eyes shone brighter, sharper.
His posture exuded confidence and power in a way that made even the most seasoned n take a step back instinctively.
"Ross... your face is..." soone whispered, their voice barely audible, carrying disbelief and awe.
A ripple of murmurs ran through the crowd, quickly growing into a wave of astonished exclamations.
"It’s... different!"
People craned their necks, leaning forward, whispering to their neighbors.
Even those who had just gained incredible abilities themselves paused, unable to tear their eyes away from him.
There was sothing almost otherworldly about his presence now, as if the simple act of consuming the heart stone had elevated him to a new plane entirely.
Ross smiled faintly, the curve of his lips subtle but unmistakable.
His calm, controlled gaze swept over the crowd.
The previous chaos of excitent and experintation seed to hush under the weight of his presence.
Even the most reckless and inexperienced n instinctively slowed their movents, as if so invisible force urged restraint.
For a long, tense mont, silence reigned.
Then, as realization began to settle in, awe rippled through the hall like wildfire.
Everyone in the great hall was stunned, but one group—won of all ages, extrely beautiful and ordinary alike—reacted with an intensity that far outstripped the rest.
Their collective gasp filled the space, reverberating off the walls like the echo of a sudden storm.
"He’s... he’s so handso!" one whispered, her voice quivering with disbelief.
"Oh my god..." another breathed, covering her mouth instinctively, as if even speaking aloud might shatter the spell of what they were seeing.
Ross had undergone a transformation that left even the most vivid imaginations pale.
Where once his features had been perfectly ordinary—pleasant, yes, but nothing to inspire awe—they now radiated a breathtaking, almost supernatural allure.
Every line of his face seed sculpted with precision, every contour sharp yet harmonious.
His jawline could have been carved from marble, his lips perfectly balanced, his eyes glinting with a depth of intelligence, dominance, and charm that made onlookers shiver.
It was more than re attractiveness. It was magnetism incarnate.
His presence alone demanded attention.
Even the most beautiful n in the world, taken together, would pale when set beside him.
He was no longer just a man—he was a standard by which all other n would be asured, and all would fall short.
The won in the hall flushed deeply, their faces warming with a combination of admiration, awe, and sothing closer to desire.
So instinctively clutched their dress to their chests, others covered their mouths, unable to form coherent words.
Their breaths caught.
Hearts pounded violently.
So even felt a strange, dizzying pull in their chests, as if his presence alone had stirred sothing deep within them.
Even Ross’s wives, standing nearby, were not immune.
Their eyes followed him with a mixture of pride, longing, and anticipation.
Subtle smiles curved their lips as their minds wandered, imagining the private monts that might unfold tonight.
Every nerve seed alive, every heartbeat synchronized with the silent rhythm of Ross’s aura.
It wasn’t only his physical beauty that drew them in—it was the combination of power, confidence, and undeniable presence.
Every movent he made, every tilt of his head, seed to command the space around him.
Even the air seed to hum with recognition of his superiority.
The simplest gestures—straightening his posture, lifting his gaze—sent ripples through the crowd.
The sheer perfection of his face, the intensity of his eyes, the power that radiated from him—it was overwhelming.
So won leaned forward, eyes wide, unable to look away.
Others whispered to one another, words lost in breathless gasps, trying and failing to articulate what they were witnessing.
Ross was no longer rely handso.
He had beco an ideal, a man so extraordinary that the notion of comparison seed almost aningless.
Ross held up his hand and called for a mirror.
One of his undead guards, silent and precise as ever, stepped forward and placed a polished, full-length mirror before him.
As Ross gazed at his reflection, he allowed himself a rare mont of appraisal.
What he saw confird everything the hall had already whispered.
His features were sharp and perfectly proportioned; his jawline strong and defined, his eyes gleaming with an almost magnetic intensity.
Every angle of his face seed sculpted to perfection, his aura of power and confidence radiating outward even through the glass.
If he were to call himself the second most handso man in the world, he knew without a doubt that no one would dare claim the first.
Not a single living man could hope to surpass him now.
Ross tilted his head slightly, studying his reflection, and a small, self-assured smile curved across his lips.
"Not bad," he murmured to himself, the sound low and confident.
The effect on the crowd was imdiate.
A soft chorus of audible moans and gasps of desire echoed through the won nearby, each reacting instinctively to the irresistible presence and striking beauty of the man before them.
So covered their mouths in embarrassnt, others couldn’t tear their eyes away, and a few simply swayed slightly, as if drawn forward by a magnetic force.
Ross’s smile widened just slightly, catching the reactions without breaking his calm composure.
He allowed himself the satisfaction, the quiet thrill of knowing exactly the effect he now had—not just in power, but in sheer, undeniable allure.
The mirror reflected more than just his face; it reflected the dominance, the confidence, and the charm that now made him untouchable in every sense.
And all around him, desire, admiration, and awe mingled in the air, filling the hall with an intoxicating energy that seed to orbit him alone.
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