CHAPTER 53
The hall was still buzzing with the aftershocks of Dr. Aldric Arvan’s death. The oppressive pressure he had once commanded had vanished completely, swallowed by the overwhelming force Adrian had unleashed. It was as though the very air had been freed from chains. People inhaled deeply, their breaths shaking, minds struggling to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
President Alistair Renford was still kneeling on the ground. His limbs trembled uncontrollably. Every breath he took quivered with disbelief, with awe, with a fear he could not hide no matter how hard he tried. The man who had been the pillar of Medical City, the iron–blooded President known for his pride, raised his head slowly… and stared at Adrian with eyes filled with a complicated mixture of humiliation and reverence.
His lips trembled.
“Y–Your mental force…” he whispered, voice unsteady as though his throat itself was shaking. “Is it… Level–4?”
He swallowed hard. His next words barely made it out.
“Or… is it Level–5?”
The hall fell silent again–dead silent.
Eyes widened. Breath caught. Even the elders, men who had witnessed decades of breakthroughs and collapses, straightened instinctively as if witnessing something sacred.
All waited for Adrian’s answer.
But Adrian only stood there, coat drifting gently, as though even the air bowed around him. He didn’t puff his chest. He didn’t stand arrogantly. He simply existed with an effortless supremacy that no title or rank could
capture.
“I’ve never tested it,” Adrian replied quietly.
A heartbeat passed.
Then another.
The entire hall erupted.
“You–WHAT?!”
“Never tested?!”
“Impossible!”
“He must be joking–no one with that aura would be ‘untested‘!”
“If he’s never tested, it can only mean one thing–he’s far beyond the standard levels!”
The disbelief turned into realization.
And realization turned into terror.
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A trembling elder gripped his cane so tightly his knuckles whitened. His voice cracked as he whispered, barely audible:
“Could he be… one of the legendary… Sense–Awakened Souls?”
A collective gasp shook the hall.
Faces blanched.
Hands trembled.
Several doctors actually staggered backward.
-Sense–Awakened Souls–the stuff of myth, of ancient history whispered only in forbidden manuals. Individuals whose mental force didn’t grow by levels… but awakened instinctively with the world. People who felt existence itself. Even Level–5 experts, the pinnacle of known power, were ants before them. Legends said such beings could crush cities with a thought, rewrite memories, and sense the world’s fabric.
And the force Adrian emitted–unrestricted, unclassified–fit every terrifying description.
“Sense–Awakened…”
“Impossible…”
“But what else could explain this…”
“He suppressed a Level–3 like he was NOTHING…”
“He might really be…”
The whispers grew into roars. The hall trembled under the weight of their awe.
Then-
A figure moved.
One of the Vice Presidents–gray–haired, revered, a man whose presence alone usually commanded entire conferences–stepped forward. But he did not walk with authority.
He knelt.
KNEELED before Adrian.
The hall froze.
The Vice President’s voice cracked with emotion, trembling with respect:
“Please… become our President–General!”
A tidal wave of reactions followed.
Another elder dropped to one knee.
Then another.
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Then another-
Until dozens bowed toward Adrian.
“Please lead us!”
“Only you have the strength!”
“With your power, the Medical Association will rise to a height never seen before!”
“You are the only one worthy!”
“The only rightful head!”
–
Catherine, who had been rooted to the spot this entire time, stared at Adrian’s back–tall, straight, utterly unshaken as pleas and praises cascaded toward him from every corner of the hall. Her chest tightened, warmth blooming beneath her ribs.
Pride.
Deep, overwhelming, indescribable pride.
She never took her eyes off him. The man who had walked forward when everyone else trembled. The man who stood unfazed before darkness that others couldn’t even comprehend. The man who saved her grandfather, saved the hall, and shattered the arrogance of giants.
Her lips trembled.
“Adrian…” she whispered softly, so quietly that only she heard it. “You’re… incredible.”
Around her, the hall erupted further. People who had mocked Adrian earlier–those who sneered at him, doubted him, belittled him–found themselves crushed by their own shame.
One doctor stepped forward, stumbling, his face pale. “M–Mr. Adrian… I… I apologize. I didn’t know…”
Another followed, bowing repeatedly. “Please forgive my disrespect! I was blind!”
A group rushed forward, dropping to their knees in panic.
“We were wrong!”
“Please forgive us!”
“Spare us the punishment!”
Their voices overlapped, desperate, pleading, frantic. They reached for Adrian as though he were the only light that could redeem their ignorance.
But Adrian didn’t even look at them.
He didn’t need to.
His presence alone was enough to command everything around him. His aura was calm, yet powerful. Quiet, yet domineering. Not like a general, not like a president…
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Like a king.
A king walking out of the light.
His coat fluttered faintly behind him, lifted by invisible currents of his mental force. The long shadows he cast seemed deeper, sharper, grander. His eyes swept the hall–cold, refined, distant. The kind of gaze that made even those loyal to him feel a shiver.
The hall trembled with worship.
The doctors weren’t breathing normally anymore. Elders were shaking, clutching their robes, unable to believe that someone like this existed among them, unnoticed, unmeasured, uncategorized.
Somebody whispered:
“If he becomes our President–General… the entire country would bow to the Medical City.”
Another added, voice reverent:
“He’s not just qualified… he transcends what the position means.”
Yet another breathed:
“With someone like him… even Level–5 experts would yield.”
And then-
The chanting began.
“President–General Adrian!”
“President–General Adrian!”
“President–General Adrian!”
The voices grew louder, swelling like a wave, more voices joining in, echoing against the marble walls. The temperature of the hall felt like it shifted. The energy surged.
Catherine watched the scene unfold, eyes shimmering. Her heart pounded–not from fear, but from awe. A part of her knew, deep down:
No matter what path she chose, she would never again be able to see Adrian as anything less than extraordinary.
Renford, still trembling from earlier, gathered what strength he had left and forced himself to bow.
He lowered his head–President of the Medical City–bowing deeply toward Adrian.
His voice was filled with humility, awe, and a shred of hope:
“Adrian… please lead us. With your power, you could unify the entire Medical Association.”
Another Vice President added, “You could govern what we could not.”
An elder followed, “You could save us from corruption, from threats like Arvan and those behind him.”
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A chorus rose:
“You can bring a new era.”
“You can guide us.”
“You are the one we need!”
But even with dozens bowing, chanting, begging, Adrian did not show pride.
His expression stayed still, unreadable.
Because he had no interest in titles.
No desire to hold a position.
No yearning to sit on a throne.
He had come to resolve a threat.
Not to rule.
The chanting quieted gradually, as everyone sensed that Adrian wasn’t responding to the frenzy. A hush spread around the room. Eyes, filled with worship, turned expectantly toward him. Even the shadows seemed to lean in, waiting for his decision.
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