Chapter 26 – A Lesson in Applied Terror

【Valerius PoV】

The carriage finally lurched to a halt.

We had arrived back at the mansion. Home sweet heavily mortgaged home. The air outside was cool and carried the scent of trimmed roses and crushing debt. For a moment, it was almost peaceful.

“Do try not to trip over your own feet on the way out, my lord.”

Clara’s voice was as sharp as ever. She sat across from me, her posture perfect. Her expression was a carefully crafted mask of polite indifference. It was her default setting.

“I’ll do my best, Clara.”

Jin sat beside me, silent. He hadn’t said a word for the entire ride back. He just stared out the window, a statue carved from judgment and really weird fashion choices. The guy was a total enigma.

The carriage door opened.

A footman stood at attention, his face pale. He avoided looking at Jin. Smart move. I swung my legs out and stepped onto the gravel driveway. The familiar crunch under my boots was oddly comforting. It was real.

Clara descended with practiced grace. She smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her black dress. Her eyes immediately began scanning the grounds, cataloging every leaf out of place.

Then Jin stepped out.

The world seemed to hold its breath. A sudden chill swept through the evening air. It wasn’t a normal cold. This was a deep, primal cold that sunk right into your bones. It was the kind of cold that made you think about your own mortality.

The footman flinched, taking a half-step back. His eyes were wide with a very specific kind of terror. It was the look of a prey animal that just realized it was sharing a cage with a predator.

Every maid and servant lining the walkway to the grand entrance froze.

One of the younger maids dropped the silver tray she was holding. It clattered against the stone steps, a shockingly loud noise in the sudden silence. No one moved to pick it up. They just stared. Their faces were all shades of white.

They weren’t just scared. They were terrified.

It was like looking at a god of death who decided to take a casual stroll through a suburban neighborhood. Jin’s aura was an oppressive weight. It was a physical presence, a suffocating blanket of pure, unfiltered power. It screamed danger.

He seemed completely unaware of the effect he was having. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He scanned the mansion, his pale blue eyes taking in the architecture. His expression was unreadable.

“Your home is… adequate.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Clara led the way, her steps somehow making no sound on the gravel. She was the only one who seemed unaffected. If anything, she looked mildly annoyed by the display of raw power. It probably offended her sense of order.

We walked up the steps and through the massive oak doors. The interior of the mansion was just as silent. The staff who were usually bustling around were now plastered against the walls, trying to make themselves as small as possible.

They weren’t looking at me, their supposed lord. They were looking at the man walking beside me. The monster I had invited into their home.

“My office. Now.”

We moved through the grand foyer. Our footsteps echoed in the cavernous space. I could feel dozens of eyes on my back. I felt a weird mix of fear and, strangely, pride. No one was ever going to mess with me with this guy around.

We reached the heavy wooden door of my study. I pushed it open and walked in. The room was just as I left it. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with books I’d never read. A large mahogany desk dominated the center of the room.

Jin followed me inside. He moved to the large window overlooking the gardens, his back to me. Clara stepped in last, closing the door behind her with a soft, final click. The sound cut off the outside world. We were alone.

“Alright. We need to talk.”

Jin didn’t turn around. He just kept staring out the window.

“We do.”

“An assassin is coming for me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and ugly. Saying them out loud made it all the more real. This wasn’t a game anymore. This was my life.

“I am aware.”

“You are? How?”

“Men like the ones you associate with are predictable. They do not tolerate loose ends. You are a loose end.”

That was a punch to the gut. He wasn’t wrong, though. To the Baron and his cronies, I was just a pawn to be sacrificed. A minor villain with a pre-written death scene.

“They’ll send him in a few days. I don’t know who he is, or how he’ll do it. I just know he’s coming.”

“He will fail.”

His confidence was absolute. It was kind of comforting. It was also terrifying.

“You’ll stop him?”

“For now. I will deal with this insect. But I will not be your permanent bodyguard.”

He finally turned to face me. His eyes were intense, pinning me in place.

“This is a temporary solution. You need to be able to defend yourself. The future you wish to build will require you to have strength of your own.”

“Okay, yeah, great. I’m all for that. Train me. Teach me how to fight like you.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It was not a friendly smile. It was the smile of a wolf looking at a very stupid sheep.

“You wish to be as strong as the boy?”

He was talking about Reiji. The hero. The protagonist of this whole messed-up world. The kid who was destined to kill me.

“Yeah. Exactly. Strong enough to beat him.”

Jin let out a short, sharp laugh. It was a cold, humorless sound.

“Impossible.”

“What? Why?”

“Where did you imagine a boy like that obtained his power? A common dojo in the city? A back-alley swordmaster?”

He shook his head, a gesture of profound pity.

“He was trained on the Supreme Mountain. I can feel its lingering touch on him. The aura is unmistakable.”

“The Supreme Mountain? What’s that?”

“It is the domain of my Master. A place where the very air is saturated with the purest mana in existence. Every breath there is a form of training. Every moment strengthens the soul.”

He walked towards my desk, running a finger along the polished wood. He seemed lost in a memory.

“The underworld, this world you call home, is a barren wasteland in comparison. The mana here is thin. It is polluted. Impure. It is like trying to survive by drinking mud.”

He held up his hand, clenching it into a fist.

“Here, I am shackled. The ambient mana cannot replenish what I use. I am operating at perhaps one percent of my true strength.”

My jaw dropped. One percent? This guy was a walking nuclear warhead at one percent? What was he like at full power? The thought was legit insane.

“But… you seem fine. You’re insanely strong.”

“I use a technique to refine the impure mana of this world. To ‘goldify’ it, as my Master would say. It is a crude, inefficient method compared to his. A pale imitation. But it is enough.”

He looked back at me, his gaze analytical.

“I cannot make you as strong as the boy. Not in this environment. Not in the time we have. Your body is weak, and you have no foundation.”

“So that’s it? I’m just screwed?”

“I did not say that.”

He circled the desk, his presence filling the room. He was a teacher now. A terrifying, overpowered teacher.

“The boy has immense power, yes. But he is a novice. He is inexperienced, reckless. His power is a wild stallion, and he is barely clinging to its back. That is his weakness. That is what we will exploit.”

He stopped in front of me.

“I will teach you a different kind of strength. Not the strength of a tidal wave, but the strength of a stone in the river. You will learn to use your opponent’s own power against them. You will redirect his force. You will turn his overwhelming strength into his own downfall.”

It sounded cool. It sounded like something out of an old martial arts movie. It also sounded really, really hard.

“You will learn to fight smarter, not harder. Because you have no other choice.”

“And you think I can beat him? For real?”

“You must. It has to be you.”

His voice was grim.

“I could crush him easily, even in my current state. But it would be meaningless. Another monster defeating a fledgling hero. The world would simply move on. His destiny would be delayed, not averted. Someone else would rise to take his place.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

“But if you defeat him… a villain defeating the chosen hero… that shatters the narrative. It breaks the prophecy. It throws the entire concept of destiny into chaos. Your victory will prove that fate is not immutable. That is the only way to truly be free.”

It was a heavy burden. The fate of my own existence rested on me beating the main character. No pressure.

Clara, who had been silent in the corner this whole time, finally spoke.

“How wonderfully dramatic.”

Her voice was dry. She held a feather duster, which she must have grabbed from a supply closet on the way here. She ran it over a bookshelf, her expression bored.

“Do let me know when you’ve finished planning your little rebellion. Some of us have actual work to do.”