CHAPTER 48
Two figures stepped forward. Their steps were steady, their eyes sharp, and their presence alone was enough to make the surrounding crowd
inctively quiet down.
They were not ordinary presidents.
They were legends in their
W states.
President Halden of Duskport – gray hair tied neatly behind him, his gaze steady and unwavering.
And President Verdan of Larkfall – calm, scholarly, but with an unmistakable depth behind his eyes.
Both were Level–2 mental force users, famous not only in their own regions but across the six states.
“What are they doing?” Catherine whispered, clutching Adrian’s sleeve unconsciously. “They’re going together
?”
A murmur rippled through the crowded hall.
“They’re teaming up?”
“That’s unprecedented!”
“Two Level–2 presidents at once… this is serious.”
They stood side by side, facing Dr. Aldric Arvan with solemn expressions.
President Halden stepped forward, sleeves rustling.
A faint metallic hum filled the air as thin strands of silver slowly rose behind him.
Silver needles – hundreds of them.
Suspended not by strings, not by devices, but by pure mental force.
Several guests gasped.
Even some of the younger doctors looked terrified.
“That’s Halden’s art–Threaded Needle Control!”
“He can control more than a thousand needles with absolute precision!”
It was a technique revered as a medical miracle and feared as a weapon.
A single controlled needle could pierce the exact spot that disrupted someone’s mental domain.
A hundred could cripple an attacker before they even lifted a hand.
Beside him, President Verdan took a single breath.
The lights around him dimmed slightly-
seemed to warp perception itself.
–
not because the hall grew darker, but because Verdan’s presence
A low tremor rippled through the mental domain of the hall
Illusions.
Verdan was known as the only mental illusion specialist among the five neighboring states. With a mere thought,
Selected
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he could cloud an opponent’s senses, twist their surroundings, or plunge them into a maze formed from their own memories.
Together…
These two presidents were a force that even Renford had once acknowledged he could never defeat head–on.
The air thickened under their rising mental pressure.
Several guests stumbled back instinctively.
Even senior elders pressed their hands against their temples, their mental domains vibrating under the strain.
Catherine felt a chill shoot up her spine.
“Two Level–2 presidents… joining hands… They’re not leaving any room for mercy.”
It wasn’t just a duel anymore.
It was a declaration.
A refusal to accept Dr. Arvan’s claim of absolute superiority
But Arvan…
Did not move.
He didn’t even straighten from his relaxed posture.
His left hand remained tucked behind his back, while the other lazily held a wine glass by the stem.
His expression barely shifted — only a faint hint of boredom flickered across his eyes.
When Halden and Verdan fully released their mental power, the entire hall shook with pressure.
But Arvan just sighed.
Then he spoke.
“Two Level–2 trash?” His voice was slow, lazy, almost mocking. “Bring ten more. I could still beat them…. with one finger.”
The hall erupted in outrage.
“Insulting!”
“How arrogant can he be?!”
“Even he can’t defeat two Level–2 presidents head–on!”
But under the outrage was something else:
Fear.
Because Arvan’s confidence… didn’t feel like empty boasting.
“Dr. Arvan,” President Halden said coldly, “your words will be the very reason you fall.”
Verdan stepped forward beside him.
“Don’t underestimate us.”
Their combined mental power surged.
Defected
The air rippled like disturbed water.
The chandelier lights flickered violently.
Pressure rolled outward in waves, bending the air and forcing weaker doctors to stagger back.
The entire banquet hall felt as though a storm was descending.
But Arvan?
Still didn’t lift his eyelids.
His voice came out faint, almost bored.
“If you’re done posturing…”
He flicked his wrist.
Just a tiny movement.
Barely visible.
And the hall exploded.
A wave of mental force surged outward echoed like lightning trapped indoors.
pure, concentrated, cruc
It hit the air with a crack so sharp it
The chandeliers rattled.
Glasses shattered.
Several guests cried out as their ears rang.
Halden’s needles – the hundreds floating neatly behind him – trembled violently.
Then froze.
Then bent as if bowing under the weight of a far deeper, more terrifying pressure.
–
Halden’s eyes
“What-!?”
widened.
His technique was not simply disrupted – it was crushed by sheer overwhelming force.
Verdan’s illusion domain shattered like thin glass.
He coughed blood instantly, staggering backward.
Gasps filled the air.
“That pressure-!”
“It’s not Level–2!”
“No Level–2 can release force like that!”
Catherine’s face went pale.
“It’s not possible… No one could… break the illusions and the needle control simultaneously…”
Arvan raised his hand again.
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Defected
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A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.
“Pathetic.”
He clenched his fingers.
A second surge of mental force erupted, this one sharper and heavier, like a vortex forming at the center of the hall.
The air warped visibly, pulling inward like a force of gravity had awakened.
Halden had no time to react.
Verdan didn’t even get a second breath.
They were swallowed whole by the mental vortex.
“Not good-!”
“Move back!”
“Take cover!”
Several elders tried to help – but the vortex repelled everything. ·
Then-
BOOM!
The two presidents were blasted backward, their bodies lifted completely off the ground.
They flew more than ten meters, crashing into the thick marble pillar in the center of the hall with a bone- shaking crack.
Stone fractured.
Dust burst outward.
They fell to the floor in crumpled heaps, unconscious before they even struck the ground.
Blood trickled from the corners of their mouths.
Silence.
Silence that crushed every sound in the hall.
Even breathing felt forbidden.
Then-
“Wh–what… what level was that…?”
“No way… No ordinary breakthrough can produce such force…”
“That wasn’t a fight. It was slaughter.”
Dr. Arvan watched the two unconscious presidents without a hint of sympathy.
Just contempt.
He stepped forward, exhaling faintly through his nose.
“Presidents?”
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He scoffed.
“They’re not worthy of the title.”
His voice dripped with disdain.
“Calling themselves leaders… when they can’t withstand even a single move from me? What an embarrassment to their states.”
Many people lowered their heads.
Not because they agreed.
But because criticizing Arvan after witnessing that level of power felt like suicide.
Even President Renford’s face had gone dark.
His hands were clenched so tightly the veins along his wrist bulged.
“Level–2?” one of the younger doctors whispered. “There’s no way that was Level–2.”
“It wasn’t,” murmured one of the elders. “It felt like something far beyond it.”
“Then what level—”
“No one knows.”
Catherine’s heart slammed painfully in her chest.
The force Arvan displayed… it wasn’t something that belonged to any known mental power user.
He wasn’t simply stronger than Level–2.
He was something else.
Something unnatural.
She turned to Adrian instinctively – the only person in the entire hall whose expression had not changed.
He simply watched.
Calm.
Unmoved.
As if Arvan’s overwhelming, suffocating might was nothing more than a breeze.
“Adrian…” she whispered shakily. “What is he…? What did he break into? This can’t be Level–3.”
Adrian didn’t look at her.
But his voice was low.
Cold.
“Of course it isn’t.”
Catherine’s breath caught.
Then what-?
Arvan turned slowly, his posture elegant, his chin lifted slightly.
Defected
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“Three presidents defeated,” he said loudly, projecting his voice across the entire hall. “Is there anyone left who wishes to challenge me?”
No one spoke.
No one dared.
His gaze swept through the assembly like a blade.
Daring anyone to step forward.
The hall felt suffocating.
Until a quiet voice broke through the dread.
“I’ll go.”
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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.
