Chapter 413: 12-Year Old

Averon stood up.

Dust slid off his clothes as he straightened his back.

The smile was still there, fixed on his face as if nothing had changed, but his eyes were cold. They locked onto Isaac and didn’t move.

“Are you angry?” Averon asked. The corner of his lips lifted into a twisted smile. “I felt the same when I found out about you.”

Isaac didn’t answer. He stayed where he was, eyes narrowed, expression cold. He was looking at Averon as if Averon was beneath him , and that seemed to irritate Averon more than any insult could have.

Averon took a step forward.

Then another.

His walk was slow at first, as if he wanted Isaac to feel the pressure of every step. His presence pressed outward, mana leaking from his body in waves. The ground beneath his boots cracked faintly, unable to fully withstand the pressure he was releasing.

“I’ve been proposing to her for years,” Averon continued, his voice rising. “I’ve loved her for years. Who the hell are you to step in between us and steal her from me?”

His steps turned into a run.

In an instant, the distance between them vanished.

Averon moved with the help of his skills, layers of enhancement stacking on top of one another.

His muscles swelled, veins glowing faintly as energy coursed through them. His fists ignited, blazing with condensed mana as he swung toward Isaac with everything he had.

Averon didn’t hesitate.

Why would he?

He had a Transcendent-rank combat Talent. Two SSS+ rank classes. One Transcendent-rank class layered on top of that.

Against Isaac, who was registered as nothing more than a farmer, the outcome felt obvious.

Sure, Isaac’s first move earlier had caught him off guard. That much Averon could admit. But surprise only mattered once. After that, skill took over.

And Averon had plenty of it.

Even if their raw stats somehow matched, Averon had a vast arsenal of combat skills, techniques refined through training and battle. There was no reason this fight shouldn’t end with Isaac broken on the ground.

That was how it was supposed to go.

Golden flames erupted from Isaac’s body as he used [Daybreak Incarnate] skill of Alice.

His mana was boosted, so were his physical stats.

Isaac moved.

Averon’s fist cut through empty air.

Isaac had already stepped aside, his motion smooth and almost casual, as if he had seen the attack coming long before it was thrown. There was no wasted movement, no panic. He simply wasn’t there anymore.

Averon’s eyes widened.

“…What?”

That shouldn’t have been possible.

He was using multiple SSS+ rank skills and at least one Transcendent enhancement. His speed should have overwhelmed Isaac completely. Even reacting to that strike should have been difficult, let alone dodging it so cleanly.

What Averon didn’t know was that Isaac wasn’t relying on just skills.

Isaac had Titles.

Countless ones.

Titles didn’t just add numbers. They reshaped how power expressed itself. Even when two awakeners shared identical stats, the one backed by titles would always stand far above the other in the field those Titles governed.

Isaac carried Titles from Initiate, Adept, Elite, Master, all the way up to Champion rank. Titles that had been refined as his rank increased, stacking one over another without conflict.

On top of that were the ones that didn’t come from standard progression.

Abyss Delver.

Monsterbane.

Nightreaper.

Death’s Shadow.

Each one sharpened him further, reinforcing his strength, speed, awareness, and killing intent. Combined, they pushed him far beyond what Averon could perceive.

Before Averon could even adjust, Isaac stepped in.

His fist drove straight into Averon’s abdomen.

There was a dull, heavy impact, followed by a sharp crack as the force traveled through Averon’s body. His eyes bulged as the air was driven from his lungs, blood bursting from his mouth as he was launched into the air like a broken doll.

He spun once, twice, before stabilizing himself midair through sheer reflex.

Coughing violently, Averon wiped blood from his lips. His expression had changed completely now.

He didn’t waste time.

Mana surged again, this time forming more complex patterns. He began preparing another skill, one that went beyond simple physical enhancement. The air around him distorted, pressure building as energy condensed rapidly.

Isaac felt it and responded in kind.

Red lightning crackled around him as he reached inward, preparing to call Ragnarok. The familiar presence stirred, ready to descend at his command.

The space between them trembled.

Then a voice cut through the tension.

“Stop!”

The scholarly man Isaac had attacked earlier appeared in the sky, positioning himself beside Averon in a flash of movement that spoke of skill rather than brute force. His expression was calm but firm, his eyes focused.

Before Averon could react, the man swung his palm.

The strike landed cleanly against the back of Averon’s head.

There was no flash, no dramatic effect. Just raw, precise force. Averon’s body was sent hurtling downward, his skill collapsing mid-activation as he slammed into the ground below. The impact carved a crater into the earth, dust and debris erupting outward.

Silence followed.

The absurdity of the situation hung heavy in the air. Both Isaac and Averon were stunned, the fight abruptly halted in a way neither had expected.

In that brief pause, the scholarly man turned toward Isaac.

He bowed deeply.

“We apologize for our actions,” he said quickly. “Our Lord is a child. He is only twelve years old. Please forgive him.”

The words came out fast, tumbling over one another as if the man feared Isaac might strike at any second.

“He was rescued in the past by Lady Catherine,” the man continued, barely pausing to breathe. “He has always looked up to her since then. His affection for her is like a daughter telling her father she would marry him when she grows up. It’s just childhood infatuation. Please forgive him.”

Isaac stared at him.

“…He is twelve years old?”

“Yes,” the man said immediately, nodding. “Yes, he is.”

Isaac blinked once.

“How did he awaken so early?”

The scholarly man let out a slow breath, relief flickering across his face as he realized Isaac was willing to listen.

“As you know,” he said, “awakening occurs when the fragment of monster will inside an Awakening Orb strikes the soul. The soul perceives a threat and responds by awakening its latent potential.”

He adjusted his posture slightly, slipping into explanation with practiced ease.

“Normally, all races only use Awakening Orbs when children are around sixteen to twenty years old. Before that, the soul is not fully mature. Not only are the chances of successful awakening lower, but the orb can actually harm an immature soul.”

He continued without stopping. “That is one method of awakening. Another is natural awakening, where someone’s soul awakens its potential during moments of life and death. This is how people awakened in ancient times, before Awakening Orbs existed.”

“Our Lord went through a dangerous situation when he was seven,” the man said. “Fortunately, he survived. During that incident, his soul awakened naturally, even though it had not yet matured. It was then that he met Lady Catherine, who saved his life.”

Isaac listened quietly, absorbing the explanation.

’He speaks really fast,’ Isaac thought.

He looked down toward the crater where Averon lay unconscious.

“Then why does he look like that if he’s only twelve?” Isaac asked.

“Physique awakening,” the man replied. “And his stats. His body matured because of them.”

Isaac’s expression shifted.

If everything the man was saying was true, then…

His jaw tightened slightly.

’Did I just almost kill a child?’

The golden flames around his body faded as he deactivated his skills. The pressure in the air eased, and Isaac coughed lightly, clearing his throat.

“Tell him,” Isaac said after a moment, his voice steady but firm, “to not call Catherine his from next time.”

He glanced back at the scholarly man.

“She is my wife.”

The man’s eyes widened. Isaac noticed it but didn’t comment. He had already said what mattered.

Instead, he looked around.

Averon lay unconscious in the crater, completely still. The earlier rage and arrogance were gone, replaced by the quiet stillness of someone knocked out cold. Isaac studied him for a second longer, then shifted his gaze.

It was then that something felt off.

“…Huh?”

Isaac’s eyes moved to the guards who had been flung away earlier. They were battered and scattered, but they were breathing. Some were groaning, others struggling to sit up, but none of them were dead.

’They’re alive.’

“We used one-time shields,” the scholarly man said quickly, as if he had been waiting for Isaac to notice. “I’m Simraj Solkara. Averon’s uncle, and his advisor.”

He offered a tired, almost resigned smile. “We didn’t want to provoke you. We warned Averon countless times not to do this. But knowing him, we knew he wouldn’t listen. So we brought shield relics with us, just in case.”

His expression shifted as he spoke, irritation leaking through the calm. It was clear he had dealt with this sort of thing more times than he cared to count.

Isaac could understand that look. He had worn it himself plenty of times, usually when Celia dragged him into something absurd and left him to clean up the mess.

“You knew I was strong?” Isaac asked.

Simraj nodded. “Lady Catherine came to us herself. She… boasted about you.”

He hesitated for half a second, then continued. “Knowing her, she must have realized Lord Averon would attack you. If she still let the meeting happen, then it meant you were stronger than him. So we prepared the shields, assuming we’d be beaten. Our only plan was to explain everything before we were killed.”

The blunt honesty of it left Isaac with an awkward expression. There was no resentment in the man’s voice, just acceptance, and that somehow made it worse.

It reminded him, uncomfortably, of himself.

Then something clicked.

“Catherine came to meet you?” Isaac asked.

“Yes,” Simraj replied. “She was following the Eltari Overlord.”

Isaac froze.

’Doesn’t this mean…’

His lips twitched.

’She set this whole thing up?’

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became. She hadn’t warned him. Not even a hint. And knowing Catherine, she was probably laughing somewhere, fully aware that he would feel guilty once he found out Averon was just a kid.

Isaac exhaled slowly.

He could see her reasoning clearly now. She wanted Averon to stop following her. She wanted Isaac and Averon to meet. Maybe even become allies. Averon was strong, and his city was close to Isaac’s territory. On paper, he was a perfect candidate.

And she knew Isaac well enough to predict he wouldn’t kill a child.

Unfortunately for her, Isaac had no intention of allying with Averon.

Firstly, Averon was a child.

Isaac hated dealing with children.

Secondly, the little bastard liked Catherine.

Frankly, Averon should consider himself lucky Isaac wasn’t killing him just for saying that out loud.

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