Chapter 48: Aiden vs Michael.
Aiden took a deep breath as he moved forward. The mana in his hand pulsed, faint arcs of light flickering across his fingers as the metallic tomb around the chest began to creak and shift.
The air inside the chamber was heavy, filled with the scent of rust, dust, and mana residue.
He stepped closer to the chest that sealed the heart within, his boots tapping softly against the cold stone floor.
His eyes were filled with both fear and determination, as they were fixed upon the ancient chest that sealed the heart within. A shadow crossed his face, his expression unreadable—somewhere between contemplation and dread.
Slowly, he raised his hand and pressed it against the surface of the chest. The moment his skin made contact, the chest trembled violently. It felt alive. It felt as if the heart sealed within was pulsing in excitement, recognizing his presence.
For an instant, Aiden thought he could feel the faint beat of that heart echo through his palm—wild, chaotic, desperate to be free.
He pulled his hand back, his breath quickening. His gaze drifted to the side, where a small table stood. On it sat a puppet—a wooden doll carved crudely, its head tilted lifelessly.
Its empty eyes stared into nothingness, yet Aiden knew what it was. That was his connection to his mother.
He walked toward it and spoke softly, his voice echoing faintly, "Mom, I am inside the room. What should I do now?"
For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, suddenly, the puppet's mouth opened on its own, its wooden jaw creaking as if alive. A shrill voice burst out, trembling with urgency, "Aiden! Hurry and take the chest! Michael is coming for you!"
The words struck him like thunder. His heart tightened, and a jolt of adrenaline shot through his veins.
Without hesitation, Aiden picked up the puppet as he darted toward the chest. His hand reached for it—but before his fingers could grasp it, a blinding flash illuminated the room. A bolt of lightning descended from above, striking his arm.
The pain was searing.
He screamed as the shock surged through his body, throwing him backward. The chest was flung away, crashing violently against the far wall. The puppet, too, was hurled across the room, its wooden body splintering upon impact.
Groaning in pain, Aiden forced himself to lift his head. His vision blurred, smoke filling the room, and through that haze—he saw a figure.
Standing at the entrance, shirt torn, upper body riddled with wounds, stood Michael. His white hair was disheveled, streaked with blood and soot, yet his eyes gleamed with madness.
An evil smile twisted across his face as he looked at Aiden.
Aiden's heartbeat began to race violently. His breathing turned shallow. The air itself seemed to vibrate under the pressure of Michael's presence.
He quickly channeled mana into his palm, activating self-heal. A soft green glow wrapped around his arm as his wounds began to mend.
Then he spoke, his voice trembling but firm."Where… where are my parents?"
Michael's grin widened. He tilted his head mockingly and replied, "Heh. So you're the same as your father, huh? Asking about them when your own life is in danger."
His eyes flickered with curiosity as he noticed the healing light around Aiden's hand as he said. "Oh? You're a mana cultivator at such a young age. How old are you? Thirteen? Fourteen?"
Aiden said nothing. His expression hardened. In an instant, he activated Blitz, his form flickering with speed as he dashed toward the fallen puppet. He knew he couldn't fight this monster head-on. Escape was his only option.
He reached for the puppet—but another bolt of lightning roared through the air and obliterated the puppet in front of his eyes.
Aiden froze. His chest tightened. He turned, glaring at Michael, who now stood calmly with lightning dancing around his hand.
"So," Michael said, amusement dripping from every word, "you're a dual-elemental mana cultivator. Interesting."
He paused, then spoke again, his voice darkening."I asked you a question, boy. Will you not answer your one and only uncle?"
Aiden's eyes narrowed, disgust seeping into his tone."How can I consider you my uncle when you're trying to kill me and my family?"
Michael blinked—momentarily stunned by the defiant response. Then, slowly, a cruel smile spread across his face."You have a sharp tongue… just like your father. It makes me want to kill you even more painfully."
With that, he lifted his hand, conjuring another bolt of lightning, and hurled it straight toward Aiden.
The attack was instantaneous. The air cracked with explosive force as the attack instantly reached infront ofAiden
But Aiden didn't panic. He was ready. He had trained under Rayan—trained through cruelty and pain. Rayan never held back, forcing him to survive through pure instinct.
Aiden slammed his hands into the ground, summoning an earth wall before him. Then he conjured another one because he knew one was not enough to stop the attack.
The bolt struck, tearing through the first wall, shattering the second, but the brief delay was enough. Aiden vanished, his form flickering as he reappeared to the side, breathing heavily.
Michael's expression faltered for a second as he was clearly surprised."You're… a tri-elemental mana cultivator," he muttered, astonished. "And you are younger than my own son."
His eyes darkened, filled with disbelief and rage. "How can you be a tri-elemental cultivator without living in high-density mana zones? My son lived and trained for fourteen years in the best regions across the continent before reaching that stage. And you—" he spat, his voice trembling with jealousy, "you achieved it in this filthy countryside?"
That thought infuriated him. This child, this boy, was more talented than his son. He could not allow it. The humiliation he once suffered under Jonathan's shadow now burned anew.
"So you survived my earlier attack," Michael said slowly, his tone cold and murderous. "It was at the level of a Stage-3 mana spell. Impressive. But now—" his aura flared, lightning bursting from his skin, "—I won't hold back. Even if I am injured, I can still fight at the level of a Stage-4 cultivator. I'll make you feel pain beyond death!"
In the next instant, he vanished.
Aiden barely saw the blur before a crushing kick slammed into his ribs, sending him crashing into the wall. The impact cracked the stone, dust, and debris raining down.
Michael stood tall, expecting the boy to collapse. But as the dust cleared, Aiden was still standing.
He clutched his ribs, face pale, breathing heavy, but his eyes… they burned with defiance.
Michael felt a strange irritation. That gaze—it was the same look Jonathan had once given him. That same unyielding will.
Aiden healed his ribs quickly. But before he could react again, Michael appeared before him, his fist slamming into Aiden's stomach.
The boy's body lifted from the ground—but his arm shot up, blocking the hit just enough to deflect the killing blow.
Aiden vanished again, reappearing a few feet away, arms trembling, bones cracking as he tried to heal them.
Michael's eyes narrowed. His mind flashed with recognition. That fighting style—it reminded him of someone. "Boy," he said slowly, "who taught you to fight like that?"
Aiden's mind raced. He needed time to recover. "It was Uncle Rayan," he said, forcing calm into his voice. "He's my teacher."
Michael clicked his tongue as he said. "Tch. I knew it."
Then, in a flash, he was behind Aiden again. A kick struck his back, sending him flying. Then another, and another.
Lightning flared with each impact. Aiden tried to counter, but Michael's speed was overwhelming. Again and again, blows landed—each like a hammer of thunder.
Finally, Michael stopped. Dust rose around Aiden's body. The boy was standing… barely. His breathing ragged, his body broken. Almost all the bones in his body was broken.
But he didn't fall. He stood there trembling.
Rayan's words echoed in his mind: "Don't fall until your body gives out."
Michael sneered. "You're still standing? Good. Then watch as I destroy what you love."
He lifted his sword of lightning as he said. "Let's take you to your parents. I'll kill you in front of them. Then, they'll understand true despair."
Aiden's pupils dilated. His heart beat wildly. He realized what Micheal intended—to use him as bait, to break his parents' will.
No. He wouldn't let that happen. He would not become a burden to his parents.
Aiden raised his hands, conjuring Lightning Rain. Bolts descended from the ceiling like divine wrath, hammering toward Michael.
But Michael didn't even move.
He lifted his arm, conjuring a single concentrated bolt that clashed with the storm, neutralizing it entirely. The room filled with blinding light, then silence.
Suddenly, wooden tendrils shot from the floor. A wooden hand gripped Michael's leg tightly.
"What—!?" Michael snarled, glancing down. For a moment, panic crossed his face. "Sara?"
He looked around, searching the shadows for her figure. But none appeared.
Then pain erupted in his right foot. An earth spike had pierced clean through it. He looked forward—and there was Aiden, his hands pressed to the ground, eyes glowing fiercely as more spikes erupted around him.
Michael's rage exploded. He blurred from sight, searching for Sara again, screaming, "Come out, Sara!"
But no reply came; there was only silence.
"So you won't show yourself, huh?" Michael said coldly. "Then so be it. I'll kill your son first!"
He conjured a lightning sword, vanishing again. He arrived beside Aiden, the sword sliced through the air toward Aiden—too fast to dodge.
Aiden saw it coming. He knew he couldn't dodge or escape this attack. He accepted his death. He stared into Michael's eyes, defiant even as the blade approached.
But then—a wall of fire erupted between them, stopping the strike.
The flames flickered, radiating intense heat. Aiden recognized that mana immediately.
He turned toward the doorway.
Jonathan and Sara stood there. Both were drenched in blood, their bodies battered, but their eyes burned with fury and rage.
They had fought three Stage-4 cultivators to reach this place, enduring wounds that would have killed anyone else. They were exhausted—but they had made it.
Michael's grin widened as he mocked, "So, both of you abandoned your safety to save this half-breed, huh?" He tilted his head, eyes glinting. "But what now? My captains will be here soon. Sara, you've nearly exhausted your mana. If you heal even yourself, you'll have nothing left to fight with."
Jonathan looked straight into his eyes as he said coldly. "We don't need to defeat you."
In a flash, he vanished—appearing before Michael with two ice whips in his hands. The air snapped as he swung them, shards of frost flying.
Michael responded instantly, lightning sword meeting ice. The collision filled the chamber with light and sound as they clashed again and again.
Meanwhile, Sara teleported as she arrived beside the chest she picked it up and vanished and arriving beside Aiden. She knelt, cradling his bruised face. Her eyes trembled with pain."Are you alright, dear?" she whispered.
Her hands glowed as she began healing him, but Aiden quickly stopped her. "Stop, Mom. I'll do it myself. You need to preserve your mana."
Sara shook her head gently. "Even if I saved my mana, it wouldn't be enough. Besides, it'll take too long if you heal yourself."
Before Aiden could argue again, a deafening crash echoed. Jonathan's body flew across the room, smashing into the wall. Two figures appeared beside Michael—Albert and Luke.
They moved like shadows, seizing Jonathan's arms and forcing him onto his knees. His breath was ragged, his strength fading, but his eyes were defiant as he looked at Michael.
"Dad!" Aiden shouted, but Sara stopped him, shaking her head. Tears filled her eyes as she healed his final wounds. Then, she placed a small wooden doll in his hand.
"Don't worry about us," she whispered. "Just be safe."
Michael looked down at Jonathan, sneering. "So, you are finally kneeling before me."
Jonathan chuckled weakly, blood dripping from his lips as he mocked. "Look who's talking. You lost to me when you were a Stage-5 cultivator, and now you're acting all mighty?"
Michael's expression twisted in fury. His eyes blazed with hatred as he raised his lightning blade high above his head—ready to behead Jonathan.