Aven exited the office through the private lift, descending smoothly to the lobby. As he passed by the reception desk, he gave a small nod to the receptionist. The young woman blinked in surprise, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. The normally cold and distant young heir had given her nod directly.
Outside, his sleek black car was already waiting. Robert Kaess opened the passenger-side door for him before walking around and slipping into the driver's seat.
Aven settled in and glanced over.
"Robert, are you going to follow me everywhere now?"
Robert responded without hesitation, eyes forward.
"Yes, sir. That is my duty."
Aven chuckled faintly, then turned slightly toward him.
"Do you have confidence in your skills? Can you actually protect me?"
Robert's tone remained firm and unwavering.
"Yes, sir. I can handle forty armed men without using a weapon."
Aven raised an eyebrow, half impressed, half amused.
"That's an awfully strong level of confidence."
He leaned back, then said casually,
"Let's put that to the test. Take me to a training gym. We're going to spar."
Robert hesitated briefly, but then nodded.
"As you wish, sir. Do you want me to find the nearest private facility?"
"Yes. Make it quick."
Ten minutes later, they arrived at MAARA Gym, one of the most well-equipped and exclusive training centers in the city. Known for its elite clientele, MAARA offered high-end combat and system-enhanced physical training, perfect for people with special backgrounds—or secrets to hide.
After Aven booked a private room under his name, the two made their way inside. The attendant greeted them with a bow and directed them to the upper floor.
Inside the locker room, the two changed into training clothes—simple, durable, and designed for high-intensity sparring.
Robert tied the straps on his wrist calmly, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.
"Sir… are you certain about sparring with me?"
Aven didn't look at him as he adjusted his gloves.
"Of course. Let's see what your forty-men-handling confidence really means."
As Aven tightened the final strap on his gloves, his thoughts turned inward.
"Orion," he said in his mind, calm but curious. "What's the chance I beat Robert in this spar?"
Orion's response came instantly—cold, precise, and devoid of any comfort.
[Master, after detailed analysis of Robert Kaess's combat data, skill profile, and bloodline potential… if he does not use any raw bloodline energy, your probability of victory is approximately 2.07%.]
Aven's brow twitched.
"And if he does use it?"
[If he engages even a minor fraction of his latent bloodline energy—your odds drop to 0.0013% for now .]
The words echoed in Aven's mind like a slap of cold steel.
"That wide a gap?" he asked quietly, half in disbelief.
[Affirmative. Robert has been trained under at least four distinct martial systems, including one forbidden style registered only in underground Black Core sectors. His muscle memory and strike precision are superior. Your current level is far below his.]
Aven stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection looked composed, but inside… he knew this wasn't a game.
Still, a faint smirk touched his lips.
"Good. Then this will be worth remembering."
He turned toward the training room. Robert was already waiting inside the ring, standing still, calm, hands loosely clasped behind his back.
The air between them grew heavy.
The sparring bell chimed softly.
Aven moved first.
His foot sliced through the air with a high kick aimed at Robert's temple — sharp, clean, fast.
Robert raised his forearm like it was choreographed, barely shifting stance.
Aven didn't pause.
He spun on his heel, dropping low, throwing a sweeping kick meant to take Robert's legs out from under him. It was a street-style maneuver — dirty, efficient, the kind not taught in any polished dojo.
Robert leapt back just in time, eyes narrowing faintly.
Another step. Aven surged in.
Fists blurred. A flurry of jabs and palm strikes came from Aven's side — fast, focused, laced with rhythm only a seasoned fighter would know. He was chaining attacks without hesitation. Uppercut. Elbow. Knee.
Robert parried each one with clinical precision, but his expression shifted Robert thinks,These aren't the strikes of a noble's son," he thought silently. "This is battlefield muscle memory."
The fight pressed on.
Aven ducked under a counter-punch, feinted with a shoulder, and slammed a punch into Robert's side — not strong enough to hurt, but placed with surgical accuracy.
Robert's eyes widened faintly. He hadn't expected that.
He stepped back with a grin and said calmly, "You've trained before."
Aven didn't respond.
But in his mind, experience of pervious life of Rivan Bosc — the Underworld King of his past life — whispered like a ghost, he is like he returns to his youth.
"Pain teaches. Loss refines. Death remembers."
He pivoted again, readying his stance.
Robert smirked as he reset. For the first time, he wasn't looking at Aven Drax, the young heir.
He was facing something else.
Five minutes in.
Aven lay flat on the mat, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breath. Sweat clung to his forehead, his limbs sore, and every muscle in his body screamed in protest.
"Hah…hah…"
His fingers curled into the mat beneath him. He wasn't used to losing — not like this.
Across from him, Robert stood tall, barely winded. His breathing was steady. Controlled. As if the last five minutes had been nothing more than a warm-up. Robert thinks that their sir Aven is better than most of the noble brat.
Aven groaned, raising his head slightly.
"You're a monster…" he muttered, a tired half-grin on his face.
Robert stepped forward and offered him a hand.
"Not a monster, sir," he replied calmly. "Just someone who's walked through hell long enough to know how to dance with fire."
Aven took the hand and pulled himself up.
"You didn't even use your 99% strength ," Aven said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"That was… pure skill."
Robert nodded once.
"Power makes you strong, but relying on it makes you soft. Real strength—comes from surviving without it."
Aven's eyes gleamed, despite his exhaustion. He wasn't discouraged. If anything, he looked… excited.
"Then I am going to defeated you in 15 days m," he said. "
Robert studied him for a moment.
"If you really want that," he said slowly, "then prepare to be broken, rebuilt, and broken again. Because the kind of strength you're asking for doesn't come without cost."
Aven straightened his back, wiping sweat from his brow.
"I've already died once," he said quietly. "What's a little pain compared to that?"
Robert smiled faintly.
"Then let's see I waiting Robert said
As Aven sat across from Robert in the private lounge after their training match, he sipped from a cold bottle of mineral water and finally asked, curiosity still lingering in his eyes.
"Robert... how did you get your strength?"
Robert looked thoughtful for a moment before responding in his usual composed tone.
"I started training when I was fifteen. But more than that, I… have something special inside me. A kind of power that awakened."
Aven leaned forward.
"What kind of special power?"
Robert shook his head slightly.
"I don't know the full details. All I remember is that it fully awakened when I was eighteen… during a crisis. Something inside me just… snapped open."
Aven's brows furrowed.
"What kind of crisis?"
Robert's eyes went distant for a moment but didn't answer.
"I'm not sure how to explain it. I only know that the strength came when I needed it most."
Aven did not asked about cries again.
Aven sat back, deep in thought. In his mind, he silently reached out.
["Orion."]
The AI's voice responded immediately, cold and precise as ever.
["Yes, Master?"]
["He doesn't even know what's inside him. Why?"]
["Master, this is exactly why most bloodline warriors on Volmera never develop a Bloodline Core," Orion explained. "They rely on raw bursts of power provided by their bloodlines — enhanced strength, speed, and sometimes unique traits. But they never cultivate or even realize the existence of their core." ]
Aven's eyes narrowed slightly.
[So they use brute force, not refined control."]
["Correct. It is power without discipline. Without a core, their growth is limited. They burn bright—but short."]
Back in the real world, Aven nodded slightly to himself, a piece of the puzzle sliding into place.
"Now I understand what's going on here," he muttered under his breath.
He turned back to Robert.
"So how do you keep improving your strength if you don't even know about your power.
Robert gave a calm smile.
"Hard work. Discipline. Meditation. I train my body and focus my mind every single day. That's all I've ever known."
Aven studied him for a long moment.
"You've become this strong… without ever even touching your full potential," he said quietly.
Robert didn't respond to that. He didn't need to.
Aven's mind was already racing.
"Then what happens when someone does awaken the core?"
Aven leaned back slightly, the gears in his mind turning.
"Then what happens when someone does awaken the core?"
Orion's voice answered inside his head, quiet and sharp like a blade.
[Master, if a bloodline warrior forms their core properly, they become at least three times stronger than their current base strength — in every aspect. Physical power, regeneration, control, and even unique abilities tied to their bloodline."]
Aven's eyes sharpened.
"Three times…?" he repeated under his breath.
Orion confirmed without hesitation.
["And that's just the start. A proper core allows evolution. Without it, they're fighting blind — wasting potential that could shatter mountains."]
Aven wiped sweat from his brow, the flicker of a decision forming in his eyes.
After some thinking, Aven started to feel hungry it 2 o'clock now.
"Let's go get something to eat. I'm starving."
"Yes, sir." Robert gave a slight nod, dutiful as always.
They left the MAARA Gym and climbed into Aven's sleek black car. Robert took the wheel again, and within fifteen minutes, they arrived at one of the top-tier fusion restaurants in Niremo City. Inside, soft jazz played in the background as polished floors reflected the golden light from chandeliers.
The two sat at a private booth. Aven, always calm but observant, scanned the room out of habit.
"Order what you want," he told Robert.
"Understood."
As they waited for the food, Aven leaned back, thinking.
He had made his decision—he would give Robert the bloodline serum.
But first, he needed to prepare it… and for that, there was only one person he could trust.
After their meal, Aven paid the bill without flinching and stood up.
"We're heading to my aunt's place."
"Lady Malira?" Robert asked.
"Yes. Her lab in the Drax family's pharmaceutical sector."
Robert simply nodded, no questions asked, as they exited the restaurant.
A cold fire rose in Aven's chest.
"So Robert's powerful now… but he's still walking in the dark."
Orion remained silent, which in his case, was confirmation enough.
Aven looked across the room at Robert, who was now adjusting the wraps on his hands.
He didn't know what was sleeping inside him.
But Aven did.
And soon, he would help Robert to awaken it.