Eternal Master: Path to Godlike Status-Chapter 39: Seeking Strength

"Are you still alive?" Alicia’s voice reached him.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself resting on her lap.

He was no longer in the chamber but in her sanctum. All around them, the place was engulfed in flames.

"So, I lost, huh?" he chuckled. He didn’t mind—this outcome was exactly what he expected.

She cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead. "You actually did very well."

"Did very well?" He let out a half smile, sat up slowly, and looked around.

The sanctum was a mess—pillars cracked, walls fractured.

"What happened?"

She brushed ash from her sleeve. "After you went down, he began attacking the Cathedral."

"Who won?"

"Neither. We ended in a draw. His body was already showing signs of destabilizing. Continuing the fight would’ve killed him—and he knew it. So, he left."

Reign got to his feet. "To think you managed to chase that monster away."

"It’s not as impressive as you think. He fought me inside my sanctum, and even with Holy Formation, the whole place was still destroyed. If his body hadn’t reached its limit, I would have lost."

Reign said nothing. He understood exactly how strong Haron became after merging with the beast.

The only reason he managed to hurt him earlier was because the other party wasn’t serious to begin with.

Engaging such a powerful individual made him more aware of his place in the hierarchy here.

Back on Earth, he was an apex predator—but here, he was just someone with extraordinary physical strength.

"Alicia..." His voice dropped to a near whisper. "Is there a way for me to become stronger?"

"YES!" She threw her arms around him, bursting with delight. "With your immortality, you’ll become a force of nature given enough time."

Alicia looked elated, genuinely happy that he sought more strength. Why, though? Only time would tell.

Rain didn’t hold her; he didn’t want to. They were only using each other for their own selfish purposes.

.

.

.

The Cathedral didn’t stay broken for long.

By the following morning, workers had already begun moving through the rubble—clearing charred stone, hauling away fractured pillars, cataloguing what could be salvaged.

The Church had deep pockets.

Deep enough that restoring a regional branch wasn’t a crisis so much as an inconvenience.

Scaffolding rose quickly. Fresh stone was ordered. The smell of ash and burnt wood was slowly overtaken by sawdust and mortar.

Rain watched from a distance for a while before taking his leave.

The city of Franiz didn’t look like it had felt the battle at all.

Three streets from the Cathedral, life moved the way it always had— loud in places, indifferent in most.

The morning market along the road buzzed with vendors shouting from under their canvas awnings, and the air smelled of roasted grain and spiced meat.

Children weaved between adults’ legs, and an old woman haggled over a bolt of cloth with clear contempt.

The carriage Alicia had arranged was waiting for them at the Cathedral’s side gate—a mid-sized cab, lacquered a deep burgundy, with a brass housing near the rear axle where the magic core sat mounted.

It had no horse at the front. Just a driver’s seat, a pair of grip reins, and a panel of inlaid switches the driver barely glanced at as he adjusted their course.

Rain climbed in after Alicia. The cab interior was plain but clean—cushioned seats, a narrow window on each side, a small vent near the ceiling that let in moving air.

As the door clicked shut, the carriage glided forward effortlessly, its suspension surpassing any car on Earth.

He leaned against the window.

Franiz stretched out around them as they rolled down the road and turned onto the wider Merchant’s Avenue.

Six-story buildings lined both sides of the road—stone-faced, with narrow balconies and tall shuttered windows, each floor slightly narrower than the one below.

The roads themselves were wide and well-kept.

Other carriages passed them in the opposite lane—some elegant, some boxy and commercial, nearly all of them running on magic cores.

Only the occasional horse-drawn cart disrupted the rhythm—older models, or those belonging to people who either couldn’t afford a core or simply didn’t trust them.

Rain watched a group of men outside a tavern arguing about something with great passion and no apparent resolution. A girl on a third-floor balcony was watering a window box of herbs. Somewhere behind them, a bell tower marked the hour with two slow, heavy rings.

"You’re quiet," Alicia broke the silence.

"I’m always quiet."

"You’re quieter than usual."

He didn’t answer that. He turned from the window and looked at his hands instead.

"You said the main church wants you to report what happened. Is it really okay for me to go too? Won’t they just seal me?"

Her eyes lit up, and a mischievous smile curved her lips. "Oh? Worried you might walk into a trap?"

"Not really. I just don’t have time to waste anymore."

She tapped her chin, intrigued. "You’re really serious about getting stronger. It must feel incredible—after living so long, finally having new experiences and a goal as vast as the sky. I completely understand."

Rain’s lips curled into a faint smirk. "I hate to admit it, but I do enjoy this. When Haron defeated me, I realized how limited my arsenal is. If I keep living here, I’ll face beings even stronger than him."

His gaze landed on her. "Can you tell me who’s the strongest on the continent?"

"Strongs... hmm." She tilted her head, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"It’s not exactly secret knowledge, but there are three candidates."

"First, of course, the Pontiff—Emperor rank." She waved a hand vaguely, as if brushing the idea into the air.

"Then there’s the principal of Argent Tower." She paused, a smile tugging at her lips. "And lastly... Mira, the Sword Emperor."

Her eyes glinted, and she leaned back slightly, as if imagining each of them in her mind.

"Are they stronger than Haron?"

"Haron?" She laughed so hard tears welled up, and she wiped at her eyes. "Any of them could’ve killed him with just one finger."