CHAPTER 221: LIGHTNING AWAKENS THE STORM

Inside the royal palace of Solvane, a girl of fourteen or fifteen sat quietly by the window, her gaze drifting far beyond the glass. Her eyes were pretty, yet strangely hollow, like the petals of a flower slowly withering without water. She looked like her thoughts were wandering somewhere far away, somewhere no one else could reach.

And then suddenly...

Creak...

The door to her chamber opened with a soft groan.

"I told you so many times... don’t come in without knocking," she said sharply, her voice edged with irritation. But as she turned, the annoyance on her face faded in an instant. The person standing at the door was her brother, Rowan. Rowan Hale, the third prince of Arcadia’s royal family. And the girl by the window was none other than Daliah.

"Oh, it’s you." Her tone softened, almost startled as she rose from her seat. Her eyes searched his face with urgency. "Well? Did you find anything? Any news of him?"

The irritation from earlier was gone, completely replaced by the deep worry clouding her features.

Rowan slowly shook his head, his expression heavy. "Nothing yet."

Daliah’s shoulders slumped. Her pretty eyes, which had seemed so distant a moment ago, now darkened with sorrow.

"Then... is he really dead?!" Her voice trembled as if speaking the words might make them true.

"I don’t think so," Rowan replied firmly, almost too firmly, as though convincing himself as much as her. "You’ve heard the stories. What he did before disappearing... even an S-class hunter would’ve struggled with such a feat. Someone like him doesn’t just vanish so easily. Maybe he’s stuck somewhere. Or perhaps, for reasons of his own, he’s choosing not to return yet."

"Reasons of his own?" she echoed bitterly, her lips tightening. "What reasons could one possibly have to disappear for two whole years?"

Rowan stood in silence. He wanted to answer, but no words came. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t sound hollow.

Because it had already been two whole years since the A-class dungeon break.

Two years ago, after Logan had defeated the A-class dungeon boss, the entire kingdom had been shaken by the news. Stories of his chivalry spread like wildfire, whispered from noble houses to crowded taverns. All came to know of the existence of a young hunter, a hunter only thirteen years old.

Everyone wanted to know more about him, to meet him, or at least to see the boy who had done what even veteran hunters and renowned mages had failed to do.

But how could they, when he had vanished without leaving a trace?

The moment Rowan and Daliah heard what a thirteen-year-old hunter had done, they knew right away who that hunter really was.

There was only one whose very existence was a slap to logic, whose power was shrouded in mystery.

Logan Smith!

And so, with delight came despair. They were proud, joyous even, to hear of his achievements. But the pride was smothered by a single cruel fact—that he was missing. And that thought left them deeply worried, day after day.

And it wasn’t just the two of them. Many others were in the same situation—the Starwind family, and Gideon’s party. And most of all, his own parents, Rudeous and Alice.

The Smith household had never been the same since that day.

Rudeous, the family patriarch who once had such high hopes for Logan, now always looked gloomy—not just as a patriarch but also as a father.

And Alice... her condition was worse. Long ago, she had stopped eating properly, stopped speaking normally with anyone. Whenever her eyes wandered toward the courtyard, memories of Logan would surface, how he used to train there under his mentor, Ardyn Vex. Whenever her gaze drifted toward the forest beyond the estate, she would recall how Logan often slipped away, hiding from others to train alone, thinking no one was watching. But her eyes had always been on him. Maybe not on the exact place he went, or the training he did, but her gaze always followed her son.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Alice would wake up suddenly in fright. Her heart would race, and her eyes would dart around the room, expecting to see Logan standing beside her bed. But all her searching eyes ever found was disappointment.

By now, even Mirena had learned the truth: Logan had not died during that incident while returning from the royal palace long ago. And so, while everyone else was worried about why he still hadn’t returned, Mirena’s anxiety carried a darker edge. Her thoughts whispered a question only she dared ask: "When he does come back... what will he do?" Her son Darius was also in the same state. He didn’t wish for Logan’s return as well.

But without the Smith family even knowing, something else was going on.

From the shadows, a few figures were watching them closely, watching every single one of them.

Far away from Solvane, deep inside a cave, standing above a mountain, a lone figure sat cross-legged. Nothing else moved except the faint rise and fall of his chest. From a distance, anyone might have mistaken him for a statue.

His hair was long, almost crossing his shoulders, with strands falling loosely around his face. Every muscle was sharply defined, and veins bulged across his arms and neck. He didn’t look buffed, but deadly like a sharp blade.

He was breathing, but in a strange way. In front of him, an orb hovered just above the ground. Wisps of white mist continuously rose from it, flowing into his body with every breath he took.

Then, suddenly, the cave began to tremble. The sky above darkened, clouds gathering thick and heavy until it felt like night had fallen even in broad daylight. People looked up in shock from the villages and towns below, pointing toward the mountain in disbelief.

"What’s happening there? Why does that place look so cloudy even in a sunny day like this? Is a storm about to strike only that mountain?"

"It’s just like back then. Don’t you remember? Nine months ago, the same thing happened."

"Yeah but it wasn’t this bad, was it?"

"True. Even I want to know what is going on there."

Before anyone could answer, it happened. A streak of lightning fell from the heavens, slamming into the mountain peak.

At first, those watching from afar heard nothing. But two seconds later, a deafening crack split the air, forcing people to cover their ears in pain. In the cave, one corner was blasted apart, shattered by the strike.

Inside, the figure’s flesh was scorched, torn open by the lightning bolt. Blood spilled freely across the stone floor. But the storm didn’t fade. The clouds only churned darker, and another bolt came crashing down, ripping through the roof of the cave.

The man’s skin split further, his body drenched in blood.

Then came the third bolt.

The entire cave collapsed, stone and dust erupting outward as thunder shook the mountain. Inside the rubble, the figure lay broken, looking no different from a mangled corpse. Yet still, he did not move. Still, his chest rose and fell.

But at last, the storm clouds began to fade, scattering one by one, leaving only silence and ruin behind.

After a few more minutes, something inside him shifted. It was as if a storm had finally calmed, as if a rampaging beast had been tamed.

Then, slowly, his eyes opened. In the same instant, he jerked his head up and raised his hand. A sharp wind blast shot forward, striking a pile of rubble. The debris scattered, revealing two small vials hidden within.

Without hesitation, he rushed forward, snatched the vials, and poured their contents into his mouth. The moment the liquid slid down his throat, the impossible began to happen—his wounds started to close on their own. Flesh stitched together at a terrifying speed, veins sealing, muscle reforming. Within minutes, his entire body had healed as though nothing had happened.

"Good thing I prepared these in advance," he muttered under his breath. "Otherwise, my condition would’ve been far worse."

He rose to his feet and looked down at his palm. Slowly, he clenched his fist.

He could feel it. Power was coursing through his body—surging like an ocean tide, restless like a storm desperate to break free.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. His mouth was dry, face was haggard. Yet his eyes... his eyes glowed with an undeniable brightness.

"Ultimate Grandmaster Realm! It took me just two years. In this era, where there was no sign of spiritual energy at the beginning, who would have thought, that I would end up with something like this in my hands."

He then looked up. His gaze drifted far away. "It won’t be long before I come knocking at your place. I’ll make you regret. I’ll surely make you regret ever setting foot on Earth."

A cold light glinted in his eyes.

It was Logan. The one, whole Arcadia had been looking for.