Chapter 50: Capital of Eldoria.
As the explosion subsided, a heavy silence fell over the land. The vast countryside that once thrived with life was now nothing more than a sea of blackened ash. The ground was scorched and cracked, the air thick with smoke and dust.
The forest, the houses, the hills — all of it was gone. There was no sound of wind, no sign of birds, animals, or humans. Only destruction stretched endlessly in every direction.
Every living thing within a five-kilometer radius had been obliterated — reduced to ash and soot. Trees that had once reached for high skies were now turned to ash.
The soil itself steamed, glowing faintly from the lingering heat of the blast. The scent of dust and smoke still lingered heavily in the air, carried by the faint flickers of burning embers that were still burning.
In the center of the devastation, four broken figures lay scattered amidst the debris. Their bodies were motionless, burned, and blackened — mere remnants of the battle that had erased an entire village.
Their clothes had been burned away, their flesh charred and cracked. They were Michael, Albert, Luke, and Anna — the only survivors, though barely clinging to life.
Michael, whose arms had been severed during the fight, was in the worst state of them all. His body was twisted grotesquely, half of his flesh burned to the bone. The air around him shimmered with the faint traces of lightning mana, flickering weakly like dying fireflies.
All four had taken the full brunt of Jonathan's self-destruction. They had used everything they had — every ounce of mana, every last defense — but it hadn't been enough.
Michael had conjured an earth dome to shield them, while Albert had sacrificed all of his puppets, turning them into meat shields. Anna and Luke poured every drop of mana they possessed into protective spells.
But even with their combined efforts, the blast had consumed everything. The dome shattered like glass, the puppets were burned to ashes, and the wave of fire devoured them whole.
After several agonizing minutes, a faint twitch broke the stillness. Anna's fingers moved slightly. Her charred skin began to shimmer faintly as healing mana pulsed through her veins.
Her breathing steadied, her body slowly knitting itself back together. Pain coursed through her entire being as her consciousness returned. Her eyes fluttered open — and the first thing she saw was the desolate wasteland around her.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she took in the sight — the black horizon, the ruins of Aldia, and the smell of burning flesh. Fear crept into her soul as the memory of the explosion replayed in her mind. Jonathan's last smile. The blinding light that engulfed them.
Her trembling eyes turned toward Michael. He lay there in a half-dead state, his once-arrogant face twisted in pain and fear. Without hesitation, Anna crawled toward him, ignoring the agony that burned through her limbs.
She placed her hand on his chest, channeling healing mana. It took a long time — far longer than usual — to repair the damage. His skin began to regenerate, slowly turning from charred black to pale flesh once more. His breathing steadied, shallow but alive.
Michael's eyelids twitched before slowly opening. His gaze met Anna's as he blinked through the haze of pain and smoke. He recognized her face — bloodied, burnt, but alive.
Then, he looked around him as he saw the destroyed wasteland. Suddenly, the memory of the explosion came to his mind. Jonathan's mocking smile. His final words still echoed in his ears.
Those words burned themselves into Michael's mind, a haunting curse that refused to fade. He clenched his jaw, his eyes glowing faintly with hatred.
Jonathan's last word still lingered in the back of his mind. He had lost to him while being a stage 5 mana cultivator.
Anna sighed in relief, knowing that he would live. She rose weakly to her feet and moved toward the others. Luke and Albert still lay unconscious, their bodies scorched but breathing faintly.
She began to heal them one by one, pouring what remained of her mana into their broken bodies.
It took hours, but eventually, both were healed. Luke groaned, pushing himself up with trembling arms, while Albert coughed violently, his chest rising and falling with effort. When all three stood together again, their eyes turned toward Michael.
He was no longer trembling with weakness. He sat on the ashen ground, eyes hollow and crazed. His lips twisted into a bitter smile as he whispered, "He defeated me… how how?"
The memory of Jonathan's sacrifice replayed again and again — the look in his eyes, the certainty in his voice, the final act of defiance. Michael's body shook, not with fear, but with fury.
His pride, his arrogance as a stage five mana cultivator, had been torn apart by a man he deemed beneath him. The man he wanted to defeat his whole life. Even if Jonathan had died, he didn't lose; he had won even in death.
Then, his thoughts shifted — to the boy. Aiden.
Suddenly, his expression twisted into rage. His teeth clenched as veins bulged on his forehead. He roared, his voice echoing through the wasteland like thunder. "Hurry! Go and find that half-breed! Bring him to me — alive!"
Anna, Luke, and Albert exchanged glances, their faces pale. None dared to question his command. They nodded silently and vanished one by one, disappearing into streaks of mana light.
Michael remained there, alone in the ruins, muttering to himself like a madman. "Jonathan… I'll kill your legacy with my own hands… I'll crush that boy until nothing remains."
Far away — nearly five kilometers from where Michael stood — a faint glow flickered in the air. As a figure wrapped tightly by a puppet appeared. The puppet's wooden arms opened, revealing Aiden inside.
He was still screaming, his voice hoarse from anguish. His small body trembled violently as he fell to his knees. Suddenly, another puppet appeared as it wrapped its hand around Aiden and vanished.
Sara had used the last of her mana to continuously teleport Aiden again and again, giving him a chance to escape. It had already happened five times before this — each time farther away, each time draining what little life she had left.
Aiden vanished again and again as he arrived inside a dark room. As the puppet opened its arms and went lifeless. Sara's puppets had done their job. They had safely teleported Aiden.
Now, only silence remained.
Aiden's breathing came in ragged gasps. His face was covered in soot and tears, his body still aching from the earlier blast. His mind, however, was drowning in pain far deeper than the wounds on his skin.
He looked blankly at the ground, his voice breaking as he whispered, "Why… why did this happen to me? Why?"
His fists clenched as tears fell to the floor. "I didn't do anything wrong. I pretended to be a good child. I acted like a child. But why? Why have I become the same as my last life? Why did they have to take my parents from me… once again, why? What wrong did I ever do to deserve this again?"
He paused, his body shaking. Then his voice rose, no longer trembling with sorrow, but with hatred. "I will kill them… I will kill them all. The whole Draconia family! I won't rest until every one of them is dead. I'll make them feel the pain I suffered!"
His tone grew darker, heavier with each word. "I'm sorry, Mom. I've always listened to you… But I can't live a happy life now. I'll kill them… with any means possible."
Then a change occurred in his Mana heart, which he didn't notice. It had taken a slightly dark hue.
Before him, the black chest trembled violently. The one that sealed the heart — the same heart that had saved him. It pulsed with dark energy, as if responding to his hatred. Aiden's eyes widened, filled with rage and loathing.
"It's all because of you!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "They detected your mana and came for us!"
He kicked the chest, his foot striking against the metal with a loud clang. Then he struck it again, and again, punching, kicking, hitting it until his hands bled. "It's your fault!" he yelled, venting all his rage on the object that had destroyed his life.
Finally, his strength gave out. He collapsed to his knees, his breathing shallow. His dark eyes were now cold and emotionless.
In that lifeless stillness, something caught his eye — a small piece of paper lying on the table nearby. He stared at it for a moment before slowly standing and walking toward it. The paper was slightly worn, folded neatly. On the front, it was written:
"To Aiden, from Jonathan and Sara."
Aiden's expression shifted from numbness to disbelief. His trembling hands unfolded the letter.
"Hello, Aiden," it began, written in familiar handwriting. "If you are reading this, it means we are already."
He froze. The words echoed through his mind as tears dropped down his face as he continued reading.
"We knew this would happen one day. Michael would find us eventually. We were prepared for it. We chose to give our lives to save you. So don't feel guilty that we are gone and you are alive. It was our choice. You are our treasure, our only light. We loved you more than anything in this world."
Tears rolled down Aiden's cheeks as he whispered, "No…"
The letter continued. "Aiden, please live a happy life. That is our only wish. Don't think about revenge. Live freely, live joyfully. Goodbye, our beloved son."
Aiden's grip tightened on the paper. His shoulders shook as silent sobs escaped him. "Why?" he whispered. "Why didn't you save yourselves when you knew this would happen? You should have lived instead of me… I've already lived one life. You should have survived. You should have let me die."
He cried for hours — until the tears ran dry. Then, finally, his voice came out again, quiet and cold.
"Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. I won't live a happy and peaceful life. I won't be able to fulfill your last request."
He stood slowly, his expression devoid of any emotion. His eyes had become dark pools of hatred. Cold and Cruel.
He looked around the room — noticing now the vast piles of gold coins stacked neatly in the corner, fine clothes folded beside them, and shelves lined with countless books. His parents had prepared everything for him — their final gift.
The gold coins were countless, shining faintly in the dim light. The books, neatly arranged, held knowledge about mana control, combat theory, and elemental mastery. Each title was carefully chosen — everything a future mage would need to survive and grow stronger.
Aiden glanced at them briefly, then turned to the window. Outside, he could see the bustling streets of a grand city. People walked around, merchants shouted, and children laughed. The contrast between their peace and his pain felt unbearable.
He stepped outside, his body trembling but his mind steady. He began to wander through the streets, quietly observing, listening, and learning. His past life's experience — years spent surviving as an outcast on the streets — helped him now.
Slowly, he began to gather information, piecing together where he was and what to do next.
He learned he was in the capital of Eldoria, Elfis. The heart of the empire.
And there, in the center of that city, was the Magic Academy.
The same place where his father's best friend — Professor Victor — resided.
With cold determination in his eyes, Aiden began walking toward his next destination. The first step toward his revenge had begun
Author's Note: This chapter marks the beginning of Aiden's revenge and his cruel journey. Stay tuned for further chapters.