Ten seconds after the charm had been activated, it happened. No attack was seen, no energy surged, and no ability activation was sensed. Yet sothing descended—a burden, a weight.
An overwhelming presence seed to materialize from nowhere and everywhere at once. Within an affected radius of nearly five hundred ters, the world itself appeared to freeze.
The air beca heavy; conversations died in their throats; even the faintest sounds vanished. It was as though an invisible force had crushed the entire auction hall beneath its palm.
Then ca the silence. A terrible silence. In that quiet, people began falling to their knees—commoners, rchants, nobles, adventurers, and ascendants alike.
It made no difference.
The pressure was not physical, spiritual, or elental; it was sothing far more terrifying. It was Will, pure and overwhelming.
An invisible explosion swept through the hall without sound, without light, and without warning.
Then, a voice echoed throughout the auction house. "How dare you." The voice was low, calm, and cold, yet every word carried a crushing weight that descended directly upon their souls.
The fury contained within those three words was so profound that it transcended emotion. It felt like judgnt, as though an existence standing far above them had finally turned its gaze in their direction. Abyssal terror flooded the hearts of every listener—a terror so deep and corrupting that countless individuals below spiritual rank three died instantly, their heads bursting apart as their minds failed beneath the pressure.
BLOOD SPLASH!
"To dare covet sothing that is mine," the voice spoke slowly and deliberately. Each word struck harder than the last. "For a re elf... you dream far beyond your station."
Valerius collapsed completely.
The prideful High Monarch who had entered the auction hall with confidence and arrogance now knelt trembling upon the floor. Tears stread down his face and his body shook uncontrollably. His will had been shattered, crushed beneath a force so absolute that resistance had never truly existed as an option.
At that mont, he understood a simple truth: he was alive only because the owner of that voice had permitted it.
Valerius did not understand what had happened, how it had happened, or why. One mont he had been laughing in satisfaction, imagining the rewards that awaited him after successfully charming the three won; the next, his entire world had collapsed.
Sothing had looked at him. A presence. A will.
An existence so imasurably greater than himself that every shred of courage, pride, confidence, and resolve had been annihilated in an instant. He was young, talented, and a High Monarch, yet none of it mattered. At this mont, he only wanted one thing: to die.
The primal fear consuming him was unlike anything he had ever experienced—deeper than terror, darker than despair—a corrupting horror that seeped into every corner of his mind and soul.
His instincts scread at him to escape, to flee, to disappear, and death seed to be the only remaining path. With trembling hands, he summoned his sword. His eyes were vacant, desperate, and broken. Without hesitation, he drove the blade toward his own throat.
Then the voice spoke again. "Have I permitted you to die, elf?"
CLANG!
The sword slipped from his grasp and struck the floor. Valerius froze. Not because he wanted to stop, and not because he had regained his senses, but because every instinct within him understood one horrifying truth: even his death no longer belonged to him.
Far away, Aezaleon watched everything unfold through the eyes of his wives. His expression was cold—too cold. The fury within him had not diminished in the slightest; if anything, it had only grown. The urge to appear in the auction hall personally and erase the offending elf from existence was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress.
Yet he endured, not for Valerius, and not for the auction hall, but because of the girl sleeping peacefully atop him. Anastasia rested against his chest, her arms wrapped around him, a content and utterly satisfied smile adorning her face.
For her sake, he restrained himself.
For now.
What Aezaleon had done was actually very simple. The responsible domain was Axiom of Will Manifestation, a sub-ability of his first ability effect, Axiom of Unyielding Dominion. One of its most direct applications was offensive will projection.
The principle behind the technique was straightforward. Rather than attacking with matter, energy, information, concepts, or conventional abilities, Aezaleon projected his Will directly into reality as a tangible force. Will ceased to be an abstract internal conviction and instead beca sothing capable of exerting genuine influence upon the world and those within it.
Through this manifestation, he could pressure weaker minds, suppress hostile intent, destabilize confidence, enforce overwhelming ntal superiority, and in extre cases, crush weaker wills entirely.
What Valerius experienced was precisely that. His body had not been attacked, his energy had not been attacked, and his soul had not been attacked. Instead, his will had been forced into direct confrontation with Aezaleon’s.
The result was inevitable.
A High Monarch ordinarily possessed formidable ntal resilience, yet resilience alone ant little when confronted by an Absolute. The confrontation was not determined solely by ascension rank, bloodline tier, or core tier.
Those factors certainly contributed, but they were not the deciding factor. The true contest occurred between the integrity, density, stability, and weight of the opposing Wills. And in that regard, the difference between them was simply too great.
Absolute Will was not rely a powerful ability. It was an Absolute.
Furthermore, its foundations were reinforced by an entire sovereign architecture and strengthened by the existence of Aezaleon’s bonded companions, creating a level of stability and pressure that ordinary beings could scarcely comprehend.
As a result, the mont Valerius’ will collided with Aezaleon’s, the outco had already been decided. He did not lose because he was physically weaker. He did not lose because his ascension was inferior. He lost because his Will was unable to withstand the presence of sothing fundantally greater than itself.
The most terrifying aspect was that Aezaleon was not even present.
He remained hundreds of thousands of ters away, seated peacefully in a private room. Yet his manifested Will alone was sufficient to reduce an entire auction hall to silence.
"Oh, husband, you’re quite possessive," Aphryne giggled, her crimson eyes shining with amusent. "You really didn’t have to go that far, you know. You practically exposed us to the entire city now." Despite her words, there was not the slightest trace of disapproval in her voice. On the contrary, she looked thoroughly delighted.
Auguszta was no different. Her crimson eyes sparkled as she watched the aftermath unfold. Seeing Aezaleon unleash such overwhelming dominance had left her strangely captivated. As she observed him lying upon the bed with Anastasia sleeping peacefully against his chest, she found him more charming than ever.
Only Clentine remained completely composed.
With a casual flick of her finger, the blood elf’s heart exploded. She did not even spare Valerius a glance. The death of a High Monarch was insignificant compared to what truly concerned her. Her attention remained entirely on her husband.
Closing her eyes, Clentine extended her consciousness into the Infinite Soul Sea. Her presence flowed through the eternal bond connecting them, gently encompassing Aezaleon’s soul. There was no force, no coercion, and no domination—only familiarity, warmth, and an existence he trusted completely.
Using herself as an anchor, she quietly drowned the lingering fury beneath the comfort of her presence.
The effect was imdiate.
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