Chapter 19: The Heart of the Matter

Neville Hennesy stormed down the pristine white hallway of the Vanguard Nursing Wing. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were completely white.

The humiliation burned in his chest like battery acid. The Head Nurse’s silent, judging glare felt like a physical weight pushing him toward the exit.

He was so blinded by his own toxic rage that he did not even look where he was going. He walked right past the corner and slammed hard into someone’s shoulder.

"Watch it, Aegon!" Neville barked, recognizing the dark-haired spearman instantly.

Aegon Logcheville stumbled back a half step, but his crimson eyes instantly flared with hostility.

"You watch it, Neville! You bumped into me, not the other way around, you fool!"

Neville stopped dead in his tracks.

The holy, merciful facade he usually wore in public was completely gone, stripped away by Draven’s insults just moments before.

He slowly turned around, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously.

"What did you call me?!" Neville hissed.

"I called you a fool!" Aegon spat back, stepping forward to close the distance.

"What? What do you mean, what?! I know you better than anyone else in this world, Golden Boy. I know exactly what kind of fantasies you have in that head of yours."

Neville’s jaw tightened, but Aegon did not let him speak. The spearman had been holding this back for years.

"You believe the world is a cruel place so someone has to be merciful," Aegon mocked, his voice dripping with absolute disgust.

"Quite the merciful man you were today. You treat the humans of lower standings than you worse than ants, yet you want to show mercy to the monsters! Tell me truthfully, Neville. You had some weird thoughts about taming that Amalgam out there, right? Something like every being has a soul and shall be liberated?! Are you mad?!"

The Hero could not allow any more insults hurled at him. Aegon had struck a nerve that was far too close to the truth.

In his fury, Neville released his golden aura. The heavy, oppressive light exploded outward, slamming into Aegon like a physical wall of pressure.

Aegon was pushed back, his boots sliding against the polished floor tiles, but he gritted his teeth and held onto his ground.

"You think you have the right to speak so highly in front of me," Neville sneered, his voice echoing loudly in the corridor.

"As you said, the mercy I offer feels like something a hypocrite would say, but you forget that this world is ruled by the strong."

Neville stepped closer, his aura pressing down harder on Aegon’s shoulders.

"You lost to a slum rat in the first round of testing, and you think you can face me?" Neville laughed mockingly.

"You are weak, Aegon. Weaker than me. Weaker than a slum rat who had just awakened his powers. Someone who hasn’t even learned anything about the official training or the martial arts that we were taught from childhood."

Aegon’s crimson eyes trembled with rage. The inferiority complex that plagued him his entire life flared up like a raging fire.

"The elixirs and medicines that were invested in us are all wasted on you," Neville continued, twisting the metaphorical knife.

"I grew stronger, but you just kept consuming them with no show of any talent blooming at all. I was more talented than you. I was more worthy. I was hailed as the successor of the Hero and the future Hero due to my potential, and I will become one. Mercy is the virtue of the strong, and I shall provide it to whoever I deem worthy of it. May it be monsters... or your whore of a Mother!!"

Aegon completely snapped.

"NEVILLE!!" Aegon roared.

A dark, blood-red aura erupted from his body, violently clashing against Neville’s golden light. The floor cracked beneath their feet.

Aegon raised his fist, fully prepared to tear the Golden Boy’s throat out right there in the hospital hallway.

Neville raised his hand, gathering a blinding sphere of holy magic to strike him down.

Before either of them could launch an attack, a terrifying, invisible force descended upon the hallway.

"HALT!!"

The voice was cold, sharp, and carried the absolute authority of a battlefield executioner.

Instantly, Neville and Aegon both felt an immense, agonizing pressure wrap directly around their internal organs.

Draven stood in the doorway of his nursing room, his right hand raised slightly.

Using his S-Rank Vector Manipulation, he bypassed their auras entirely and focused his kinetic pressure directly on their beating hearts.

It was not enough to crush them, but it was enough to simulate a massive cardiac arrest.

Both the Golden Boy and the Spearman choked on their own breath.

They fell to the ground simultaneously, clutching their chests as they gasped desperately for air. Their auras instantly shattered.

Draven slowly walked out into the hallway, looking down at the two "prodigies" writhing on the floor.

"One moment I want to rest up, and I hear two unruly beasts trying to kill each other at each other’s throats," Draven said, his tone utterly devoid of patience.

"You were having a quite wonderful conversation, but it ends now."

Draven released the pressure just enough to let them breathe. He looked at Neville, who was sweating profusely and glaring up at him with sheer terror mixed with hatred.

"Yo, hero," Draven stated flatly. "I told you to get out of my sight. Move your ass."

Neville scrambled to his feet. He wanted to say something, but his heart was still hammering irregularly against his ribs.

The sheer gap in lethal control was undeniable. He shot Draven one last murderous look before turning and limping down the hallway as fast as he could.

Draven turned to Aegon, who was still kneeling on the floor, coughing violently. Draven reached down, grabbed Aegon by the collar of his hospital shirt, and helped him get up.

"Get inside," Draven ordered, dragging Aegon into his private nursing room and letting the automatic doors slide shut.

Estella was sitting up in her bed, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes, but she stayed quiet, trusting Draven to handle it. Draven pushed Aegon into a chair near the window and crossed his arms.

"So, why were you here, Aegon?" Draven asked smoothly. "Did you want something from me?"

As he looked at the gasping spearman, Draven’s mind raced.

’What is this now?’ Draven thought in his head. ’Is this the first true butterfly effect happening due to my intervention in killing the Summoner? How exactly will this go on? I wanted to know some more information before I move on to get the Hero’s first opportunity, and I need help. He will be useful.’

Aegon sat in the chair, staring at the floor. His fists were still clenched, trembling with the residual anger of Neville’s insult and the shock of Draven’s overwhelming power.

"Talk to me, Aegon. What is it?" Draven pressed, leaning against the wall. "How long are you going to act as a fucking mute cunt?"

Aegon flinched at the harsh words. He let out a long, shaky sigh, the dark aura completely draining from his body.

He looked up at Draven, his crimson eyes filled with a desperate, burning hunger. He had finally made up his mind.

"I want to be stronger," Aegon finally said, his voice raw. "And I want to know how you got so strong after you have just awakened. Teach me."