"You—!" The youth stared in stunned disbelief. Never in his life had anyone dared speak to him like that. And now an outsider, one who was not even welcome here, had openly defied him. "I challenge you to a death duel!" His green eyes churned with stormy fury. Without warning, he stepped forward and drew a dagger from beneath his cloak.
Max could not react in time. His body froze on the spot, the sight of the blade dragging him straight back into the nightmare of being stabbed in his own apartment.
But before the dagger could reach him, Rosalia grabbed his torso and yanked him back. At the same time, Henry seized the youth's wrist and squeezed until the dagger fell from his hand. Pain warped the young man's features.
"William, we do not challenge guests to a death match over a few hurtful words." A loud slap cracked through the air, making several onlookers gasp. "You are a man, not a child. Control yourself and show some courtesy."
Another slap landed across William's other cheek, making his green eyes water before he forced the tears back by sheer will.
Max was still trapped in his nightmare, his eyes wide and his hands trembling with fear.
"And you..." Henry continued. But when he noticed Max's condition, he patted him on the shoulder instead. "It is good to want to be a man and stand up for yourself. Well done. But do not forget where you are, or who you are. We have not accepted you yet, so do not push your boundaries." There was no room for argument in Henry's voice.
Rosalia could feel Max shaking beneath her hand, but she could tell it wasn't because of William alone. Despite not knowing him well, she could already tell he had been deeply scarred by what happened the day before.
Shadows swam across his vision. The silhouette of his neighbor stood before him, clutching a knife and smiling with a grin far too wide to be real. Max's heartbeat surged, his breaths turning ragged and uneven.
But then something shone from the side like a rising sun. Another silhouette stepped forward, slender and feminine, driving the darkness out of him. Her delicate hand reached for him and touched his chest. A smile so warm it could have melted ice met his eyes.
Slowly but surely, Max returned to reality. The darkness was replaced once more by the storm, his soaked body trembling in the cold. But standing before him was Rosalia, her worried eyes searching his face as if she were the one who had pulled him back from the abyss.
"Are you okay?" Her voice was as soft as velvet, stirring a warmth in Max's chest he had never felt before.
"Yeah, yeah... I—" He shook his head, trying to force himself back to reality. His hand moved beneath his ribs almost subconsciously, making sure there was no wound there. "I'm okay... yeah."
A fierce desire for power pulsed through his veins. He acknowledged the fear gripping him and came to one firm conclusion: only by becoming stronger could he overcome that trauma. Only then would he never again be brought to death's door.
"All right. If you can't continue, we can do this tomorrow, hm?" Rosalia patted his shoulders gently.
Henry watched from the side with a calm expression. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but his eyes shone with a curious light, as if he had already guessed something no one else knew yet.
"No, I'm fine." His eyes scanned the air, watching the clock count down to the moment his powers would awaken—to the moment he would no longer be a nobody in this world of magic and power he still did not understand. "Let's do this."
Ten minutes remained, but he was already eager to try. He wanted to know whether his body held any power of its own even without the system. If not, he would likely be trapped depending on that thing forever. While he didn't entirely mind, the thought still left him with an eerie feeling. Something about relying on it too much felt dangerous.
Max had always been careful and observant. Now, more than ever, he had to turn those instincts toward survival.
"Prepare the altar," Henry said firmly to the people behind them, who did not dare question either his words or his decision.
Three people sat in a triangular formation around the altar, their legs crossed beneath them. Chants in a language Max did not understand rose sharply with each passing moment.
One after another, runes began to light up from the bottom, slowly climbing toward the top. They burned across the stone like lines of fire.
"When the last rune reaches the top and lights the golden tip, you must step inside and place both of your hands on the altar. Under no circumstances are you to fear what comes next. Stand firm, young man, and allow the feeling rising in your chest to explode and bloom like a flower after a long winter. Embrace that feeling, and let it consume you. The altar will shine with the color of your affinity, and if you possess true talent, even the sky will answer."
Henry paused. "But..." His gaze darkened slightly. "No one has achieved that in thousands of years."
He shook his head, guiding Max closer to the altar before stepping back himself. Rosalia remained by his side, casting William a warning glance from the corner of her eye.
The system clock still showed two minutes remaining, and the runes had already lit up halfway.
Max gulped. He felt painfully small before the towering altar, but something in his chest burned, giving him the strength he needed not to step back.
The final rune ignited, and the golden tip began to shine like a small sun. Even the rain within a ten-meter radius seemed to avoid the altar's domain.
"Go!" Henry barked.
Max let out a heavy breath and stepped forward. The system still showed one minute remaining. He knew that soon, his life would change forever.