Chapter 157: 157. Bearer of Broken Faith – 2

In the southern forests of No Man’s Land, a lone figure ran through the uneven terrain with urgency written into every movement.

His boots struck roots and loose stones as he pushed forward with heavy breaths.

Behind him, a pack of dog-like beasts thundered through the undergrowth, their bodies wreathed in fire that scorched the earth beneath their paws.

Each bark of theirs released smoking flames.

As they leaped, their figures sent sparks of scorch into the air while they closed the distance with relentless hunger.

The figure being chased suddenly twisted his body mid-run and turned to face them, his feet dug into the dirt as he planted himself firmly.

His grip tightened around the hilt of a black, thin blade.

His knuckles whitened as he forced his breathing into a steadier rhythm despite the exhaustion of restless travel clawing at his lungs.

“Sinclair Serpent Blade Art,”

“Second form.”

“Coiling Wave.”

Darkness mana surged outward from his blade, forming wide circular arcs that spun through the air like massive boomerangs.

The slashes of mana carried uneven weight and momentum as they sliced forward towards the dogs.

The B-rank lava dogs barely had time to react before the arcs tore through them, impaling several beasts cleanly through their flaming hides.

Bodies collapsed mid-charge, their fire sputtered and died as they hit the ground.

The man did not pause to watch them fall. Instead, he pivoted sharply and sprinted in a wide circular pattern, deliberately exploiting the remaining beasts’ blind spots.

His movements flared despite the exhaustion, his thin black blade flashing again as he launched another sweeping slash.

The remaining lava dogs fell soon after, their bodies were scattered across the burnt forest floor, and the heat died down slowly, due to the dampness of the earth.

A few minutes later, the forest grew quiet once more. The man stood among the dead beasts, shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath.

He reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing Maximus’s face, pale with exhaustion and streaked with sweat.

His eyes were bloodshot, unfocused, as if the fight had taken more from him than just physical strength.

With a tired exhale, he staggered toward a nearby tree and slid down against its trunk, clutching his head with both hands.

His fingers pressed hard into his scalp as if trying to anchor himself. Disappointment and frustration weighed heavily on his expression, dragging his features downward.

He had managed to escape the plaza, but now that freedom felt hollow.

No matter how far he ran or how long he searched, he could not find anything.

He had no idea where to go next, had no direction to follow, and no clear path toward saving Lia. Every step he took felt like it led nowhere.

Anxiety burned deep in his chest, and a tight and suffocating pressure that refused to ease.

The loss of focus gnawed at him, feeding a growing sense of helplessness.

He knew with absolute certainty that he would never forgive himself if anything happened to Lia.

She was his last hope in this cursed world, the one person who made everything else bearable. If he lost her, there would be nothing left of him.

Even his tears had dried up long ago. He had cried until his body simply could not produce them anymore.

Panic attacks had come and gone so many times that he had lost count.

Each one left him weaker than before. He clenched his jaw, and his anger turned inward as he cursed his own powerlessness.

At first, he had been elated by the slave master talent he possessed.

It had felt like a gift, something that would finally give him control in a world that had taken everything from him.

But as time passed, reality had forced itself upon him. Making slaves was not as simple as he had imagined.

He could easily enslave weaker beings, but they were useless to him in any meaningful fight.

At his current B-rank, even initiating a pact battle with someone of similar strength was dangerous. Superior techniques, better experience, and sharper instincts could easily get him killed outright. The risk was always present, looming over every decision.

Worse still, if the Duchess ever learned about his talent, his own father might become his greatest enemy.

Maximus understood that he had to tread carefully. One wrong step could mean death, and while he did not fear dying, he feared something else far more.

If he died now, his mother’s death would be meaningless.

That thought alone kept him moving, kept him breathing.

He wanted revenge. He wanted justice delivered by his own hands. If he fell before that, everything she had suffered for would be wasted.

Maximus needed a way out of his situation. Using his talent was no longer a choice he could debate.

It had become a necessity, something he had to embrace if he wanted to accomplish anything.

With trembling fingers, he opened the description of his talent and forced himself to look at it.

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Slave master (SSS Rank)

1. The host can forcibly enslave any being weaker than itself against its will. Enslaved beings cannot resist, betray, or disobey commands issued by the host.

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2. The number of slaves the host may control scales with rank. At F Rank, a host can have a maximum of ten slaves.

Each major rank-up: +10 additional slaves

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3. The host may forcefully initiate a Pact Battle with beings of similar strength. If the host wins, the opponent becomes an enslaved puppet. If the host loses, the talent’s effect on the opponent ends.

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4. Beings of higher rank may be enslaved if they are forced into submission by any means; in such a scenario, the host’s rank rises to that of being enslaved.

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5. For every enslaved being, the host has a 10% chance to permanently acquire one skill, affinity, or talent possessed by the slave.

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As Maximus read through the details again, his mind worked through the implications.

If he wanted to enslave higher-ranked beings, he would need help.

External pressure, traps, alliances, anything that could force the submission of higher-ranked beings.

Only then could he bridge the gap in cultivation by enslaving someone stronger and rising to their level.

He had no idea how to do that yet. No clear method presented itself.

But he knew one thing. He could not afford to stop.

“I can only try,” he muttered to himself.

Before he could think further, a strange sensation prickled at the edge of his awareness.

He stiffened and turned his head sharply.

His eyes locked onto a small disturbance in the air beside him. A portal was forming out of this air, the portal’s edges shimmered faintly.

Maximus swallowed hard.

He remembered this scene clearly. Just a week ago, he had witnessed something exactly like this.

A golden butterfly fluttered out of the portal, its wings glowed with golden glitter softly as it hovered in the air.

It drifted toward him slowly before settling on the knuckles of his outstretched hand.

The moment it touched him, the butterfly vanished, leaving behind a small scroll resting in his palm.

His heart pounded as he stared at it. The last time a scroll like this had appeared, it had brought nothing but despair.

With a heavy breath, he unfolded it.

————⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜————

To Maximus, bearer of broken faith…

The regret you feed now festers deep, it sharpens doubt and blunts belief.What once was mere cracks beneath, each broken vow you failed to keep.

…

Hear this truth, though it cuts deep, The one you lost, the one you grieve,Lia still lives. Her heart still beats, saved from the cult of ruthless ways.Not by prayer nor desperate plea, But by Eternal Sovereign’s decree.

…

His gaze doesn’t blesses who beg or cry, His favor comes with weigted price.Lia remains where bells don’t chime,she rests where no god dares climb, Held beyond the clutches of time.

…

Mistake this not for the sovereign’s grace, That leaves no action, no debt to face.His mercy marks the soul it saves, No favor fades, no costs erase.

…

If you would see her walk once more, if you want her drawn from the silent storm,Then strength must answer love’s demand, No tears, no prayers, only death’s command.

…

Rise o’ bearer of broken faith, raise your blade and prove your worth.Those who shattered your hope and cursed your fate from the point of birth.

….

Bring the heads that shaped your pain, the hands that made your mother slain.Let justice seal the wound that raves, let your hands dig blood-filled graves.

…

Then raise your blade to a greater height, and slay the Demon lord with seven eyes.Ask the one who sold her soul, who bargained your fate to claim his toll.

…

Four heads. Four debts, no more, no less. This is the cost of the sovereign’s grace.Only then shall Lia be in your arms, from guarded dark to living warmth.

…

Fail, and never see her face, Remain forever untouched by her grace.Succeed, bring her to your side once more, through the blood you chose to spill henceforth.

— Eternal Sovereign

————⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜————

Maximus’s hands trembled as the words burned themselves into his mind.

Lia was saved by the eternal sovereign??.

The relief that came with that realization hit him so hard that his vision blurred with tears, but it was immediately followed by the crushing weight of what was being demanded of him.

He had to bring the heads of his enemies.

His fingers curled slowly as the scroll vanished, and he stared into the dark forest ahead.

The path laid out before him was unavoidable now.

He had been given a chance to save Lia at last, but the demand was heavy and aligned with his revenge.

And even as fear and resolve tangled within his chest, one thought rose above all others.

If this was what it took to bring Lia back, then he would walk that path without hesitation.

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