CHAPTER 49
The hall hadn’t yet recovered from the shock of seeing two Level–2 Presidents–renowned, respected, practicall legendary–crushed like pests under Dr. Aldric Arvan’s casual flick of the wrist.
Whispers still rippled in trembling waves:
“Impossible…”
“That pressure… that wasn’t human…”
“How can someone suppress two Level–2s like that…?”
President Dr. Alistair Renford moved forward, his expression dark and unwavering. Every muscle in his body radiated restrained fury.
“Dr. Arvan!” Renford’s voice cut through the murmuring crowd like steel. “Since you speak so arrogantly, it seems I have no choice but to test your claims myself!”
A stunned silence fell over the hall. Even seasoned elders instinctively stepped back, sensing that Renford’s aura- the peak of Level–2 mental force–was about to be revealed
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hands. Around him, faint golden threads of energy shimmered in the air. They began as wisps, almost imperceptible, but in an instant, the th ultiplied, twisting and weaving around
each other like a web spun by an invisible master.
Gasps erupted throughout the hall.
“That’s… the ‘Golden Thread Spirit Net!“” whispered one of the visiting presidents. “A manifestation of the peak of Level–2 mental force!”
Several elders exchanged startled glances. “He’s been hiding this strength all along. And to think Arvan dared to mock him…”
Renford’s golden web expanded outward rapidly, stretching to the edges of the hall, attempting to encircle Arvan completely. The threads weren’t just visual—they thrummed with power, vibrating with the precision of a master artisan. Anyone caught inside would find their body and mind restrained, energy flow disrupted, and every action anticipated and countered.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Every chair, every table, even the chandeliers above vibrated imperceptibly as the Golden Thread Spirit Net radiated its magnificent force.
Arvan, however, didn’t flinch. Not even a muscle twitched. One hand remained lazily tucked behind his back, the other loosely holding a wine glass. He regarded the radiant met with a slow, almost amused smile.
“This pathetic net…” he murmured, his voice carrying easily to the back of the hall. “You dare show it to me?”
The murmurs in the audience grew frantic. Some could barely believe their ears.
“You saw that?” a young doctor whispered. “That is the absolute pinnacle of Level–2 mental power… and he isn’t even panicking.”
Arvan raised his free hand with the grace of someone making the simplest gesture imaginable. The moment his fingers pressed downward, the golden web exploded. Not gently, not with a subtle collapse–but shattered like glass struck by a hammer. Sparks of energy flew outward in jagged arcs, and the threads disintegrated into nothingness, dissolving into the air as if they had never existed.
Then the next wave struck.
–
Chapter 49
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From Arvan’s core, a pulse of mental force erupted. Its color was no longer gold, no longer purple, but a deep, near -black energy that pulsed and writhed like a living shadow. The floor beneath him seemed to tremble. The air itself seemed to compress, pressing against the lungs of those nearby.
The hall quaked. Glasses rattled. A few of the younger doctors stumbled, their knees buckling under the invisible pressure.
A voice cracked through the air, barely audible over the tremor:
“Level… Level–3 Mental Force?!”
“Impossible!”
“There are less than ten Level–3s in the whole country!”
Renford hadn’t even had a chance to reform his Golden Threads. The black, overwhelming aura crashed into him like a tidal wave, slamming him to the ground with a bone–jarring impact. His knees hit the marble floor with a dull thud, and his entire body trembled. The usually composed and dignified president could barely lift his head. Veins bulged across his forehead. His golden threads had been destroyed, and with them, the advantage he had honed for decades.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The audience, previously buzzing with awe at Renford’s display, now sat frozen with fear and disbelief. Even the elders who had survived less political and martial storms were shaken.
Arvan slowly stepped forward, each movement measured, the embodiment of lethality in perfect control. His gaze scanned the room effortlessly, not a single flicker of hesitation in his expression.
“I told you,” he said softly, voice carrying across the hall, cold and absolute, “a useless man like you thinks he can call himself President?”
No one dared to speak. Not a whisper. Even the most senior elders dared not meet his eyes.
Renford slowly pushed himself up onto his hands, a shudder running through his body. “How… how is this possible?” he managed to breathe, his voice trembling slightly with shock and anger. “This… this is beyond Level- 2!”
Arvan’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Level–2? That’s all you have achieved?” He shook his head slowly.” Pathetic. You were always too slow, too weak to grasp true power. And now you see it for yourself.”
The spectators couldn’t look away. Even Freya, usually composed and elegant, held her breath as Arvan’s shadowy aura pressed like a living thing. The walls themselves seemed to resonate with the force, trembling faintly. Chandeliers swayed. The light flickered in irregular pulses. Wine glasses rattled across tables.
A few younger doctors fell to their knees, pressing hands to their heads as mental energy assaulted them indirectly. “The force… it’s crushing… not even a Level–2 can project this…”
One elder murmured, “This… this is beyond comprehension. He’s… he’s surpassed everything we know…” Arvan ignored the crowd. His attention was entirely on Renford, who struggled to remain upright despite the invisible pressure. He extended a hand, the dark energy coiling like a living serpent around his fingers.
“Do you understand now?” Arvan asked. “You, the so–called President, the man everyone revered… are nothing compared to me.”
Renford’s golden aura flickered, attempting to rebuild itself, but every strand of power he attempted to form was crushed by Arvan’s overwhelming mental force. Each thread shattered before it could coalesce, leaving Renford vulnerable, trembling, and pale.
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“I… I will not yield!” Renford roared, his voice trembling with defiance and panic. He lunged forward, trying to release a counterforce, but Arvan’s shadowy wave met him before it even fully manifested. The impact sent Renford crashing back to the floor again.
Catherine’s hands clenched. She felt the cold reality of the situation pressing down like a weight. Her heart pounded in her chest.
“Adrian…” she whispered, her voice shaking. “This… this force… no one should be able to control that much power.”
Adrian’s expression remained calm, almost bored. He didn’t flinch, didn’t shift. He simply observed, as though watching a display of fireworks rather than a man crushing the nation’s most powerful doctors.
“Three presidents from neighboring states, plus President Renford…” Catherine murmured. “And he stands unchallenged. How is this even possible?”
Arvan crouched slightly, his hand sweeping in an imperceptibly small motion. Another wave of pressure rolled outward, bending the air, rattling every glass in the hall. The remaining elders instinctively pressed their hands to the floor, trying to stabilize themselves against the mental force that seemed to reach into their very bones.
“Do you see now?” Arvan asked, voice low and sharp. “Strength does not lie in position. It lies in mastery. In understanding. In dominance of the mind.”
Renford’s chest heaved. Sweat ran down his temples. His hands gri “This… is impossible… How did you…?”
e marble floor, leaving shallow grooves.
Arvan’s smirk widened. “You underestimate me. You all do. But today, the truth is laid bare. Leadership is not earned through years of title. It is seized through power–and I have proven that I possess it.”
The room was completely silent, every soul frozen in shock. Even the younger doctors, normally full of chatter and curiosity, dared not move.
Catherine’s gaze locked on Adrian, whose calm, calculating expression suggested he had already assessed the depth of Arvan’s power. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t appear impressed–only interested.
Arvan’s eyes swept the hall again. “Let this serve as a lesson. Any further challenge will not end with humiliation. It will end in annihilation.”
Renford struggled to rise again, his body trembling uncontrollably. “You… you will pay for this insolence!” he shouted, trying to regain composure, but Arvan simply tilted his head, regarding him with cold amusement.
“I have already paid,” Arvan replied smoothly. “You, however… have lost before the first strike.”
The weight of his words, combined with the overwhelming force radiating from him, left the audience in stunned silence. No one dared question him, no one dared move. Even the most seasoned elders realized that, in a single motion, the man standing before them had erased decades of experience, titles, and authority with sheer mental
power.
Catherine gripped her chair, knuckles white. She could feel the tremors in the marble underfoot, the residual vibrations from Arvan’s aura pressing on her mind. She swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away.
Adrian, still calm, spoke softly: “That level of control… it isn’t even fully Level–3. He’s beyond what anyone here has ever encountered.”
Catherine’s stomach dropped. “Beyond… Level–3? What… What does that even mean?”
Arvan, towering over the fallen president, extended his hand, not violently, but with the effortless dominance of a predator over prey. “Remember this face,” he said, voice cold and unwavering. “The next time anyone dares question strength… you will recall today. You will remember who commands true authority.”
Chapter 49
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And with that, he straightened, his presence filling the hall like a living, oppressive shadow. The remaining doctors dared not look directly at him.
Even Renford, the esteemed and revered president of the Medical City, remained on the ground, pale, gasping, utterly defeated before the unparalleled force.
For a moment, the hall seemed to hold its breath, suspended in the aftermath of a storm.
Then, as if on cue, the audience began whispering–hesitant at first, then growing louder, a mixture of awe, fear, and disbelief:
“Who… who is he really?”
“No… this isn’t a Level–3!”
“He’s… invincible!”
“Can anyone stand against him?”
Catherine exhaled shakily. Her mind raced. Every shred of confidence she had felt moments ago was gone. The man before her wasn’t just powerful–he was untouchable, untamable and on a level that the world had not prepared for.
Adrian’s calm voice cut through her thoughts. “He’s strong.. but predictable. That’s the key.”
Catherine turned to him, incredulous. “Predictable? How can anything about that force be predictable?”
Adrian’s lips curved slightly. “Even the greatest power has patterns. Even shadows reveal their shape if you know how to look.”
The crowd remained frozen, staring at the man who had shattered the authority of the Medical City president with a single motion. The weight of realization settled over them like a heavy fog: titles, reputation, and years of experience meant nothing in the face of overwhelming mental power.
Arvan’s gaze swept across the room one final time. “Any other challengers?” he asked, the faintest smirk on his lips. “Or shall we end this farce?”
The hall fell into oppressive silence, every doctor and elder aware that even the slightest opposition could lead to disaster.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
