Four hours passed in the blink of an eye.
"Huff... Huff..."
Soren sprawled on the floor, battered, bruised, and utterly exhausted. His body throbbed with pain, and he couldn’t even move a finger. Yet, despite all this fatigue, his face showed the joy of having just experienced the time of his life.
And honestly, he had.
For four straight hours, he had sparred, fallen, and adapted under the direct guidance of the legendary Icebreaker Emperor. It was an incredible lesson, a demanding trial that tested his limits and reshaped his understanding of the spear.
"..."
Emperor Hector stood nearby, holding his wooden spear, his grip tightening slightly as his eyes remained fixed on Soren.
Soren’s talent wasn’t quite as impressive as he thought, given how quickly he picked up the technique. But he possessed an absurd level of resilience, an unbelievable pool of stamina for his rank, a relentless fighting spirit, and an astonishing ability to rapidly process feedback even during combat. Every time Hector pointed out a flaw, Soren did his best to correct it, never making the same mistake twice.
It was as if he was born to be forged in battle.
"Good job, Soren. You can rest for now. We will continue it tomorrow."
Hector tossed his wooden spear to the side, ending the session.
"Y-yes, sir," Soren replied weakly from the floor, his voice barely a rasp.
───────
Fifteen minutes later, after catching his breath and shaking off the worst of the lethargy, Soren joined them in the kitchen. He washed his hands and immediately began pulling out ingredients to prepare a meal.
"So you’re a magic chef too, huh?" Emperor Hector commented as he watched the youth handle the utensils with such familiarity.
"Yes, though I’m still just a beginner." Soren offered a sheepish grin. "By the way, is there anything specific you would like to eat, Emperor Hector? I can give it a try if I know the recipe."
Cultivators generally stopped needing food once they crossed the Sixth Circle, as environmental mana supplied all the energy their bodies required. Even so, the simple human pleasure of enjoying a good meal never truly faded, no matter how high one’s rank climbed. In fact, magic meals were specifically created to bridge this gap, offering high-level cultivators a way to enjoy exquisite flavors while absorbing condensed mana that actively nourished their pathways.
"No need to trouble yourself for me." Hector waved a hand in dismissal. "Enjoy it yourselves."
"You should give it a try, Teacher," Ethea chimed in from her wheelchair. "His cooking is really tasty."
Hector glanced between her somewhat eager expression and the busy kitchen workspace. "...Well, if you insist."
Ethea watched Soren move around the kitchen, her mind drifting back to what they had talked about during lunch. Realizing now was a good time, she turned to the Emperor. "Teacher, can you tell me about Authorities?"
Hector blinked, caught slightly off guard by the sudden topic, especially given her current state. But since there was no harm in sharing his knowledge, he agreed.
Ethea thanked him and told him what she knew so he wouldn’t have to repeat it.
"...I see," Hector nodded as he gathered his thoughts. "Since you already know the basics, I will start with how a cultivator actually reaches that peak."
He adjusted his posture, his tone shifting into the measured rhythm of an experienced instructor.
"As you already know, comprehending a fundamental ’law’ becomes mandatory when a cultivator attempts to break through to the Eighth Circle. Because of this requirement, most high-level cultivators plan their trajectory from the very beginning of their journey. When they create their personal domains and study basic laws, they consciously align their foundation toward an Authority they stand a realistic chance of mastering."
He paused for a moment, noticing Soren also listening curiously.
"The vast majority of Authorities fall under elemental classifications, like Hollow Flame, Devouring Earth, or Black Lightning. They are the most common type because they build directly on physical phenomena that cultivators interact with every day. The concepts are tangible and easier to visualize, internalize, and manifest."
Ethea nodded in understanding.
"However, beyond these elements lie rare, more abstract Authorities. These are laws governing concepts like space, time, sound, or even forces like emotions and perception. These do not rely on visible elements, but on subtle truths woven into reality. They are much harder to comprehend, requiring deep enlightenment, but they prove unpredictable whenever they appear on a battlefield."
"Have you seen any of these abstract Authorities yourself?" Ethea inquired. "Could you tell me about one?"
Hector hesitated, considering her question carefully. Sharing the intimate secrets of a cultivator’s power was a breach of ethics, but discussing a famous historical display known across the continent was a different matter entirely.
"You know about Sir Temur, right?" Hector asked.
"Mmm," Ethea nodded.
"Where do you think he got his title as the Paragon of Order?" Hector paused and, seeing the realization cross her eyes, nodded. "Right, it stemmed directly from the nature of his Authority."
"Order... Is it called Authority of Order then?"
"No, I do not know what it is officially called or what it is fully capable of. However, during the Siege of the Red Ridge, I watched him use it with my own eyes. With a single spoken command, his Authority swept across the entire allied army. He snapped hundreds of thousands of panicked soldiers back into formation in an instant. Fear vanished, and every weapon, spell, and technique struck as if driven by a single mind. More than that, his power temporarily elevated their effective strength by one, or in some cases, even two or three full ranks. Foot soldiers fought like hardened captains, and captains pushed past their natural limits without burning out their pathways."
Hector shook his head slowly, the memory still vivid in his mind.
"In that moment, standing amidst the chaos, it felt like he was the true ruler of the battlefield, rewriting the rules of war so that defeat was no longer an option."
"That’s amazing!"
"Indeed."
Silence fell over the kitchen, leaving only the crackle of oil and the rich aroma of food filling the space.
’...So that was his Authority’s power?’ Soren thought, keeping his eyes on the sizzling pan.
He knew about that famous battle against the evil magic beasts. History recorded that humanity was losing badly, facing a devastating disadvantage as the horde pushed them to the brink. But then Emperor Temur arrived, turned the tide of the battle in an instant, and ultimately won the entire war, driving the beasts out of human territory for good.
Like many others, Soren had also assumed the victory came from a massive spell that wiped out the horde. However, hearing Emperor Hector’s eyewitness account changed everything.
"And I am sure that was just the tip of the iceberg because Paragons rarely unleash their Authorities to their full extent." Hector continued. "They save that kind of power for when they face another Paragon or a being of equal threat."
He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as if recalling the terrifying aftermath of those rare encounters.
"Even when forced into a true clash, they have to hold back and calculate every move carefully. The conceptual weight behind a fully unleashed Authority isn’t something normal terrain can endure. If a Paragon goes all out without restraint, they risk wiping out everything around them — allies, land, and the very world they are trying to protect."
Soren gulped inwardly, careful not to let his outer composure slip.
Everyone knew how terrifyingly powerful a Paragon was. They were not called the peak of power for nothing. The Dead Continent stood as a grim reminder of what happened when such beings let loose. Centuries after a clash between such beings had shattered that landmass, the region remained a lifeless wasteland where nothing could grow, and no normal life could survive.