Gathering Wives with a System Chapter 413 - 12-Year Old

Averon rose to his feet.

Dust cascaded from his attire while he aligned his posture.

The grin lingered on his features, unchanging as though all remained the same, yet his gaze turned icy. It fixed upon Isaac without wavering.

"Feeling furious?" Averon inquired. One side of his mouth curved into a warped smirk. "I experienced the identical emotion upon discovering your existence."

Isaac offered no reply. He remained in place, gaze narrowed, face emotionless. He regarded Averon like something inferior, which appeared to rile Averon beyond any verbal slight.

Averon advanced a single step.

Followed by one more.

His pace started deliberate, as though intending for Isaac to sense the weight of each footfall. His aura expanded, mana seeping from him in pulses. The earth under his boots fractured softly, struggling to bear the force he unleashed.

"I’ve proposed to her repeatedly over the years," Averon went on, tone escalating. "I’ve cherished her for ages. What right do you possess to interfere and take her away from me?"

His strides accelerated into a charge.

Within a blink, the gap separating them closed.

Averon propelled forward with his abilities, multiple buffs layering upon each other.

His sinews bulged, blood vessels shimmering dimly as power surged within. His hands erupted in flames, burning with compressed mana while he hurled a full-force punch at Isaac.

Averon showed no delay.

Why should he?

He possessed a Transcendent-rank combat Talent. Dual SSS+ rank classes. Plus an additional Transcendent-rank class overlaid.

Facing Isaac, listed merely as a farmer, victory seemed inevitable.

Admittedly, Isaac’s initial strike had surprised him earlier. Averon conceded that point. Yet, astonishment struck only once. Beyond that, expertise dominated.

And Averon overflowed with it.

Even should their base attributes align, Averon wielded a wide array of battle techniques, honed via practice and conflict. No cause existed for this clash to conclude otherwise than with Isaac shattered upon the soil.

That was the anticipated course.

Golden fire burst forth from Isaac’s form as he activated Alice’s [Daybreak Incarnate] skill.

His mana amplified, along with his bodily attributes.

Isaac shifted.

Averon’s blow sliced through vacant space.

Isaac had already evaded, his action fluid and nearly effortless, like he anticipated the assault well in advance. No excess motion occurred, no alarm. He had simply relocated.

Averon’s eyes expanded in shock.

"...What?"

Such an occurrence defied possibility.

He employed several SSS+ rank skills and a minimum of one Transcendent boost. His velocity ought to have overpowered Isaac utterly. Merely responding to that blow should prove challenging, much less evading it so neatly.

What escaped Averon’s knowledge was Isaac’s reliance beyond mere skills.

Isaac held Titles.

Myriad of them.

Titles transcended mere numerical gains. They transformed the manifestation of strength. Even among awakeners with matching attributes, the Title-bearer would eternally surpass in domains those Titles influenced.

Isaac bore Titles spanning Initiate, Adept, Elite, Master, up to Champion rank. Titles polished as his level rose, layering compatibly without clash.

Furthermore, non-standard ones joined them.

Abyss Delver.

Monsterbane.

Nightreaper.

Death’s Shadow.

Each honed him sharper, bolstering his might, agility, perception, and lethal aura. United, they elevated him past Averon’s comprehension.

Before Averon could recalibrate, Isaac closed in.

His punch plunged directly into Averon’s midsection.

A muffled, resounding thud echoed, succeeded by a crisp snap as the impact rippled through Averon’s frame. His eyes protruded while breath expelled from his chest, crimson spraying from his lips as he soared airborne like a damaged puppet.

He rotated once, twice, then steadied himself aloft via pure instinct.

Hacking harshly, Averon cleared blood from his mouth. His demeanor had transformed utterly by now.

He squandered no moment.

Mana flowed anew, this occasion weaving intricate formations. He initiated another ability, surpassing basic bodily augmentation. The atmosphere warped nearby, intensity mounting as power gathered swiftly.

Isaac sensed it and countered accordingly.

Crimson bolts danced about him as he delved internally, gearing to summon Ragnarok. The known essence awakened, poised to manifest upon his summons.

The area between them quivered.

Then a shout pierced the strain.

"Stop!"

The erudite figure Isaac had struck before materialized overhead, placing himself next to Averon via a swift maneuver hinting at finesse over raw power. His countenance stayed composed yet resolute, gaze intent.

Ere Averon could respond, the individual swept his hand.

The blow connected squarely to Averon’s skull’s rear.

No blaze, no spectacle unfolded. Merely unadulterated, accurate might. Averon’s frame rocketed earthward, his technique crumbling during invocation as he crashed below. The collision gouged a pit into the terrain, soil and fragments exploding outward.

Quiet ensued.

The sheer ridiculousness of the scene weighed upon the atmosphere. Both Isaac and Averon were dazed, the confrontation terminated in an unforeseen manner.

During that fleeting interlude, the learned man faced Isaac.

He inclined profoundly.

"We regret our conduct," he stated promptly. "Our Lord remains a youth. He is merely twelve. Kindly pardon him."

The phrases rushed forth, overlapping as though he dreaded an imminent assault from Isaac.

"Lady Catherine rescued him previously," the man pressed on, scarcely inhaling. "He has idolized her ever since. His fondness mirrors a girl vowing to wed her sire upon maturity. Merely youthful fancy. Please excuse him."

Isaac eyed him steadily.

"...He is twelve?"

"Affirmative," the man affirmed at once, inclining his head. "Indeed, he is."

Isaac blinked.

"How did he awaken prematurely?"

The scholarly individual released a measured exhale, ease flashing over his visage upon noting Isaac’s receptiveness.

"As you’re aware," he noted, "awakening transpires when the monster will fragment within an Awakening Orb assaults the soul. The soul detects peril and awakens its hidden capacities."

He refined his stance marginally, easing into discourse with familiarity.

"Typically, every race employs Awakening Orbs for youths aged sixteen to twenty. Prior, the soul lacks full development. Not solely does success rate diminish, but the orb risks damaging an underdeveloped soul."

He proceeded seamlessly. "That constitutes one awakening path. The alternative involves innate awakening, wherein the soul unlocks potential amid life-or-death crises. Thus did ancients awaken, pre-Awakening Orbs."

"Our Lord faced peril at seven," the man explained. "By fortune, he endured. In that event, his soul ignited instinctively, despite immaturity. There he encountered Lady Catherine, who preserved his existence."

Isaac absorbed the account in silence.

’He talks swiftly,’ Isaac mused.

He peered toward the depression housing the insensate Averon.

"Then why his appearance if merely twelve?" Isaac queried.

"Physique awakening," the man answered. "Plus his attributes. They accelerated his form’s growth."

Isaac’s features altered.

Should the man’s words ring true, then...

His mandible clenched faintly.

’Did I nearly slay a youngster?’

The aureate blaze encircling his frame dimmed as he nullified his abilities. The aerial tension lessened, and Isaac cleared his throat with a mild cough.

"Inform him," Isaac directed after a pause, tone even yet authoritative, "to cease claiming Catherine as his henceforth."

He eyed the scholarly figure once more.

"She is my spouse."

The man’s eyes broadened. Isaac observed but refrained from remark. He had voiced the essential.

Rather, he surveyed the surroundings.

Averon rested inert in the hollow, utterly motionless. The prior fury and haughtiness vanished, supplanted by the serene immobility of deep unconsciousness. Isaac examined him briefly, then redirected his attention.

At that juncture, unease stirred.

"...Huh?"

Isaac’s sight drifted to the priorly hurled guards. They appeared bruised and dispersed, yet respiring. Some moaned, others endeavored to rise, but none perished.

’They persist.’

"We deployed disposable barriers," the scholarly man interjected hastily, as if anticipating Isaac’s observation. "I am Simraj Solkara. Averon’s kin, and his counselor."

He extended a weary, somewhat defeated grin. "We sought not to incite you. We cautioned Averon endlessly against this. Yet, given his nature, obedience was improbable. Thus, we carried protective artifacts, for precaution."

His mien evolved mid-speech, annoyance seeping past composure. Evidently, he had navigated such scenarios excessively.

Isaac recognized that expression. He had sported it often, particularly when Celia involved him in folly and abandoned resolution to him.

"You anticipated my power?" Isaac inquired.

Simraj assented. "Lady Catherine visited us directly. She... extolled your prowess."

He faltered briefly, then resumed. "Considering her insight, she foresaw Lord Averon’s aggression toward you. Her permission for the encounter implied your superiority. Hence, shields prepared, expecting defeat. Our sole strategy: clarify prior to demise."

The stark candor induced an uneasy look on Isaac’s face. No bitterness colored the man’s tone, only resignation, rendering it more poignant.

It evoked, uneasily, his own reflection.

Suddenly, realization dawned.

"Catherine met you?" Isaac pressed.

"Correct," Simraj confirmed. "She trailed the Eltari Overlord."

Isaac stiffened.

’Doesn’t that signify...’

His mouth quirked.

’She orchestrated this entirely?’

The deeper his reflection, the clearer it grew. No prior alert from her. Not a whisper. And attuned to Catherine, she likely chuckled afar, cognizant of his impending remorse upon Averon’s juvenile revelation.

Isaac breathed out gradually.

Her logic crystallized for him now. She aimed to deter Averon’s pursuit. She desired Isaac and Averon’s acquaintance. Perhaps even partnership. Averon held strength, his domain proximate to Isaac’s lands. Superficially, an ideal prospect.

And she grasped Isaac sufficiently to foresee his aversion to child-slaying.

Regrettably for her, Isaac harbored no alliance intent with Averon.

Primarily, Averon qualified as a youth.

Isaac detested juvenile interactions.

Moreover, the brat fancied Catherine.

In truth, Averon ought deem himself fortunate Isaac refrained from slaying him solely for vocalizing it.