CHAPTER 65: CHAPTER 64 - HUNTED BY DESTINY

Ashtoria, who could feel the unrest stirring in Riven’s heart, cast him a brief sideways glance and gently tightened her grip on his hand. With a calm voice, she spoke:

"Relax. Usually... the talent level within a family doesn’t differ too much. Judging from what happened yesterday, Mira seems to be highly gifted, which means it’s very likely that you’re not too far behind her."

Riven looked at the beautiful woman beside him and offered a faint smile, as if thanking her without saying a word. But deep inside, a lingering curiosity still gnawed at him.

Softly, he asked, "Thank you... In that case, may I ask—I’ve always been curious... what is your talent level and strength, Ashtoria?"

Ashtoria paused in her steps, then turned her head slightly toward him. Her expression remained serene, though her eyes held a trace of amusement as she returned the question:

"Can you guess?"

Riven tilted his head slightly, meeting her deep crimson gaze, and replied cautiously, "Is it... A-Rank?"

But Ashtoria didn’t answer directly. Instead, she shifted her gaze forward again and continued walking, her tone composed as she explained:

"After Resonant, the next tier is A-Rank, also called the Chosen. People of this rank are considered prodigies. They’re said to be beloved by the world... and are almost always destined to become great figures in history. Their potential is immense. They not only surpass the limits of the Reality Binder, but also have a genuine chance to ascend and become Lawborne Sovereigns."

Hearing that, Mira—who had been holding herself back—couldn’t resist anymore. She tugged slightly on Riven’s sleeve and looked up at Ashtoria with wide, eager eyes.

"Then... what do you think my rank is?" she asked, innocent yet full of anticipation.

Riven gently patted her head in encouragement, silently urging her to listen well. He knew Mira had been curious from the beginning, especially after learning about the affinities she mysteriously possessed.

Ashtoria turned to Mira and offered a gentle smile. Her gaze wasn’t merely analytical—it was as if she could already see deep into the girl’s soul.

"Most likely... your Talent is at the Resonant level," she said.

Mira’s eyes widened in wonder, her whole face lighting up. She raised her arms as if ready to take off, and squealed with excitement, "Really?! Truly Resonant?!"

Ashtoria nodded. "Yes. That’s my estimation... though we’ll confirm it soon."

Mira bounced slightly on the spot, her expression glowing with joy, like a child who’d just been told she could grow up to be a hero.

Watching his sister that happy made Riven smile too. A weight he hadn’t realized was there began to lift from his chest. He then turned to Ashtoria and asked again:

"So... is Chosen the highest talent rank?"

Ashtoria looked at him again, her eyes holding a deeper intensity this time. Her voice was gentle, yet every word carried a weight that demanded to be felt.

"No," she said. "Chosen is not the highest."

She paused. The air around them seemed to shift, growing heavier.

"There is one more tier," she continued. "A rank that only appears in legends and old tomes. Some even believe it’s the mark of a god reincarnated."

She drew a breath before finally saying:

"S-Rank. Also known as Fated."

Riven held his breath. Even Mira, who had just been bouncing with excitement, went completely still—as if the word alone shook something deep and unexplainable inside her.

"They are born with grand destinies, unfathomable power, and the innate ability to twist the laws of the world from the moment they take their first breath," Ashtoria went on.

Her eyes turned grave.

"Individuals like that... appear only rarely. But when they do, the world always changes. Whether it’s through the fall of kingdoms, the rise of lost continents, cataclysms, great wars, or the return of forgotten races."

She paused again, then added in a quiet, almost warning tone:

"And if left unchecked... their power often brings calamity. That’s why those born with the Fated rank are usually..."

She looked straight ahead.

"...Hunted. Worshipped. Or both."

"Hunted?" Riven muttered, his brow furrowed.

"Yes," she said firmly. "By those who fear them. By kingdoms that want to prevent their collapse. By factions who feel threatened. But... at the same time, there are those who will worship them. Make them into icons. Tools. Or even gods."

Riven lowered his gaze slightly, absorbing every word.

S-Rank... Fated...

Before he could ask anything more, Lyrienne—who had been walking ahead of them—suddenly stopped. They had reached a massive darkwood door adorned with silver engravings and the Valderacht family emblem: a swirling vortex in constant motion.

With a graceful yet commanding motion, Lyrienne turned around, studied the three of them briefly, then slowly pushed the door open.

The heavy creak of the hinges echoed softly.

She spoke with a calm, almost ceremonial tone:

"Please, come in."

Lyrienne stepped through the threshold first. Magical crystal lights embedded in the ceiling bathed the room in a soft bluish glow.

"This is the Valderacht family’s relic vault," she said as she walked. Her tone had shifted into something formal, as though delivering a report. "This is where all heirlooms and treasures from generation to generation are kept. It’s not merely a storage room... but a museum."

Riven followed slowly, his eyes scanning the vast, quiet space.

Glass cases lined the room, displaying ancient weapons with intricate carvings, aged cloaks that still shimmered faintly with lingering magic, scrolls and heavy tomes sealed by runes, and even the skull of an unknown creature—preserved inside a crystalline dome.

Mira clung to Riven’s side, her wide eyes full of curiosity and awe. "This place is like... a secret treasure room from a fairy tale," she whispered.

They continued walking until they reached the far end of the chamber, where there were no more relics or displays. Only a solitary round table made of obsidian stood at the center of a smaller circular alcove. Hovering above it was a strange, glowing dodecahedral prism.

The crystal pulsed gently, as if sensing their presence.

Lyrienne stopped beside it and turned to them. "Here it is," she said simply. "The Talent Prism."

She looked at the three of them, then began to explain:

"This device has been used for over a hundred years by House Valderacht. It’s calibrated specifically to detect the deepest resonance of laws within a person’s body, something that cannot be hidden or faked."

Riven stepped slightly forward, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "How do you use it?"

Lyrienne didn’t hesitate. "Simply cut your palm until it bleeds, then place your hand on the surface of the prism. Let it read your body. Don’t resist... just breathe steadily."

A brief silence settled over the group.

Riven and Mira exchanged glances. Their eyes locked for a moment, silently asking: who would go first?

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Then, almost at the same time, they raised their hands.

"Rock, paper, scissors..."

Paper.

Scissors.

Riven won.

Mira pouted, visibly annoyed and resigned. She let out a small huff and, without a word, stepped forward with a mixture of nervous energy and determination.

Ashtoria raised a curious eyebrow, while Lyrienne shot her a confused glance, clearly not understanding the strange ritual that had just occurred between the siblings.

But there was no time to explain.

Once Mira stood in front of the stone table, Lyrienne drew a small, ornate knife from within her robe. The blade gleamed, sharp and ceremonial.

"Open your hand," she said.

Mira obeyed, holding out her tiny palm with a slight tremble.

With precision, Lyrienne sliced the skin. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was enough to draw a line of fresh, crimson blood.

"Now, touch the surface."

Mira gave a tiny nod. She raised her bleeding hand and gently pressed it onto the surface of the glowing dodecahedral prism.

The surface felt cold.

Then, in an instant, light erupted.