Ethan was looking at Caseous calmly. He hadn’t fought back at all today because if he had, Caseous would have died. Ethan had no intention of turning this banquet into a horror that would stain his reputation for years to come. If he had killed, people would think that he killed people with a slight disagreement. He just wanted to show off—and he had done exactly that.
The fight ended before it even began.
Ethan stood exactly where he had declared he would, one hand folded neatly behind his back, the other lowered at his side as if he had merely swatted away a troublesome insect.
Across from him, Caseous Morningstar collapsed to his knees, trembling and pale, the power he’d so arrogantly flaunted reduced to a pathetic memory.
And the hall—once filled with countless voices—now held only stunned silence.
No one spoke. No one even dared draw a full breath.
For several long moments, time itself seemed to forget how to move forward.
Then, like a dam giving way, the storm of reactions exploded.
"Impossible..." a visiting patriarch gasped, clutching the shoulder of the man beside him. "He is only eighteen! Even the Morningstar heir—who is famous across all the cities—could not withstand a single hand!"
"It was like a child flailing against a mountain," an officer whispered, her voice shaking. "Even when he used the Battle Body, it was as if Ethan was simply...toying with him..."
At the edge of the crowd, a slender young woman in a pale blue dress pressed a trembling hand to her lips. Her long lashes quivered, unable to tear her gaze away from the white figure standing so effortlessly composed in the center of the ruined tiles.
Rena Windsor.
Daughter of the Windsor clan—herself a rare genius, with a talent the Windsor elders had always praised as peerless.
But now, she felt a cold clarity seep into her chest.
So this...this is the difference.
She had once believed she might someday stand at the pinnacle of this emerging world. That in time, her name and her strength would command awe wherever she walked.
Yet tonight, she saw a young man who had awakened only days before, who had faced one of the continent’s strongest prodigies—and reduced him to nothing with a single hand.
She exhaled shakily, her heartbeat fluttering like a trapped bird.
He truly is...like a divine being descended into mortal flesh.
In a quieter corner, Jack and Elina Hunt stood together, each unable to disguise the astonishment in their eyes.
Elina swallowed, her hand gripping her husband’s sleeve.
"Jack...when did he become so powerful in the blink of an eye? He was a lazy bum just some days ago."
Jack opened his mouth, but no words emerged at first. He had known Ethan would become strong—extremely strong. But that was for the future, not after awakening for ten days.
To see him stand untouched against a Level 9 Master—to watch him fight with such effortless, disdainful ease—was something no parent could have prepared their heart to witness.
He drew in a breath, forced a smile, and said hoarsely,
"That is our son."
Elina’s eyes grew bright, and she pressed her knuckles to her mouth.
Some of the gathered elders glanced at them in envy.
How many families had poured generations of resources into nurturing talents who never surpassed Level 5 Master—and here the Hunts had raised a youth who shattered every known boundary.
Near the head of the hall, Alexander Hunt stood so still he looked carved of stone.
He had been many things in his long life—a patriarch who guided the Hunt family through famine, through war, through the upheaval of humanity’s awakening—but in all his decades, he had never felt such profound disbelief.
Even I did not expect this...
When Ethan had first shown his talent, Alexander had dared to hope he would become a pillar of their bloodline.
But this?
This was beyond talent. Beyond genius.
It was transcendence.
His gaze rested on the young man who still stood calmly, the light of the chandeliers gilding his hair with silver and gold.
And for the first time in decades, Alexander felt a deep, almost childlike awe.
Perhaps...this boy truly will carry our Hunt name to a height no one has ever imagined.
Beside him, Leon Gravis, Vice President of the Martial Alliance, was silent for so long some wondered if he’d lost the power of speech.
Finally, Leon drew in a slow, steadying breath. His eyes glimmered with something that looked very much like hope.
So this is the one we were waiting for.
A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Old Dragon...perhaps you were right. Perhaps our struggling Earth does have a chance after all.
Here and there, lesser guests watched with mixed feelings—astonishment, envy, and a deep unease at what this demonstration meant for the balance of power.
A group of young prodigies from all over the world huddled together, unable to comprehend what they’d seen.
"...Did you see how he blocked every strike without even moving his feet?" one whispered, voice hollow.
"I...I thought it was an illusion. Or a dream," said another. "Even when Caseous used the saber and the Battle Body—he couldn’t touch him."
"He didn’t even draw a weapon..."
One of them swallowed hard.
"If the Hunts stand behind someone like this...no one will ever be able to challenge them."
In the center of the hall, Ethan remained composed as ever. He glanced calmly at Caseous, who had sunk fully to the floor, blood dripping from his palms where his nails had bitten through the skin.
Seeing the defeated heir quiver in humiliation, the crowd fell hushed again.
Then Leon stepped forward, unable to hold back any longer. His voice was low, but each syllable carried the weight of unshakable awe.
"...Ethan," Leon said, searching the young man’s face as if to confirm he was real, "may I ask—just what realm have you reached?"
A quiet fell, every ear straining to hear the answer.
Ethan’s gaze met Leon’s without arrogance—only steady certainty.
"Level 9 Master," he said simply.
A collective gasp erupted.
But Leon and Alexander did not gasp.
Instead—at the very same instant—both men threw back their heads and began to laugh.
The sound rang across the hall, clear and fierce and disbelieving.
Leon laughed until tears stung his eyes. He could not remember the last time he had laughed like this—like a man released from a lifelong weight.
Three days...he reached Level 9 Master in three days...
Earth has a chance...our race has a chance...
Alexander’s laughter was different—rich, thunderous, almost savage.
Hah—so this is the dragon that hatched in my bloodline! The heavens truly have blessed us!
Caseous felt the laughter pierce through what was left of his pride. His vision dimmed, the shame of his defeat eclipsing even the pain in his body. He slumped forward, unconscious.
A hush fell again as Caseous’ attendants approached.
One of them—a middle-aged man in the Morningstar livery—bowed deeply toward Ethan and the Hunt elders.
"...Young Master Hunt," he said, voice strained with equal parts dread and courtesy, "forgive our heir’s offense. We will take him away and see to his recovery."
He did not wait for a response.
Two servants gently lifted Caseous’ limp form and bore him from the hall. No one tried to stop them. No one dared utter a single jeer.
There was no need. Humiliation on that scale was more complete than any punishment.
As the hall slowly regained some measure of composure, Ethan exhaled quietly.
Inside, he was gloating from ear to ear.
That was damn satisfying. I should think of more ways to make myself look even more grandiose in the future.
The banquet resumed, though a strange hush lingered.
People tried to approach Ethan, but they were hesitant and nervous—his arrogant declaration still buzzing in their minds.
Yet when they finally gathered the courage, it felt unbelievable to them: this unparalleled genius was so easy to talk to. He didn’t show the slightest trace of earlier disdain—like he was an entirely different person.
Some prodigies approached first.
"Hello, Young Master Ethan. I am August Silva from Super City 7, of the Silva family. It’s an honor to meet you."
Ethan smiled faintly.
"Oh, so you are August Silva. It’s nice to meet you too."
Of course, he didn’t know who he was. It was just formality.
August knew it as well, but it still filled his heart with joy and gratitude.
More young talents came in a hurry to introduce themselves.
Ethan thought for a moment, then asked casually,
"Is there anyone among you who is going to be admitted into Aurora Martial University?"
At those words, many ears perked up—not only among the young but among the elders.
The Vice Chancellor of Aurora Martial University was present. A Level 5 Emperor himself, he had been silently sighing. How wonderful it would be to have someone like Ethan join them—but hearing the stories of Ethan’s ten-day progress, he’d abandoned that fantasy.
But now Ethan himself was bringing it up.
August’s eyes brightened.
"My little sister will participate in the admission test this time. Young Master, do you wish to say anything?"
Ethan nodded calmly.
"I have a friend who will be joining Aurora Martial University. It would be good if she could make some friends."
He didn’t say she was his fiancée. He was no fool. After tonight’s display, if the world knew Rose was so close to him, no one would treat her sincerely. She’d be envied, isolated, perhaps even targeted with malice behind polite smiles.
If necessary, he could always intervene—but that would only deepen her isolation.
So, he simply said: a friend.
Everyone’s eyes lit up.
They began crowding closer, like moths drawn to flame.
"Young Master, my cousin will be there. Where is your friend? I will tell her on your behalf."
"Young Master, my mother’s elder brother’s wife’s sister’s daughter will also attend..."
People scrambled to dig through their family trees, trying to remember anyone who might join Aurora Martial University.
Ethan noticed no one here was planning to enroll themselves. That was understandable—this banquet was for those who’d already reached at least the Warrior level, and his batch had only awakened ten days ago. Even the most gifted needed at least two weeks to cross that threshold.
So he didn’t introduce Rose to them.
If someone from their batch had been present, he would have.
But tonight, he simply watched, committing each face and name to memory.
Everyone noted down that someone close to Young Master Ethan would be attending Aurora Martial University. The Vice Chancellor made a mental note as well.
The banquet drew to an end. One by one, the remaining guests approached the Hunt elders to offer farewells, their words steeped in reverence and caution.
Soon, the ancestral hall fell silent as the last visitors departed.
Ethan turned to Alexander and Leon, inclining his head.
"I will be retreating for a few days," he said in his calm, unhurried voice. "There are some matters I must contemplate."
Alexander smiled, though his eyes still gleamed with feverish pride.
"No need to worry," he said warmly. "No one will disturb you."
Ethan nodded.
"One more thing," he added, glancing back.
"I would like a villa constructed for Rose and her family. Close to the main estate. With the highest level of protection the Hunt family can arrange."
Alexander’s brows rose.
"You...care for her to this extent already?"
Ethan’s expression softened fractionally.
"Yes."
The patriarch chuckled, low and approving.
"Consider it done. Before you emerge again, everything will be prepared."
Ethan inclined his head once more.
He went to Rose, who had been quietly watching from the side.
She met his gaze with calm understanding.
"Goodbye," she said softly.
"Goodbye," Ethan replied.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away—his white dress drifting behind him like the passage of some immortal being.