The Conquerors Path Chapter 976 - 974-Bad Fate.....Bad Luck.

A secret smirk played across my lips as those words reached me. To the public eye, I appeared fragile, yet a new wave of chaos had already begun to swallow the city. It wasn't long ago that Fenrir’s manifestation threw the world into a frenzy. Now, crisis after crisis seemed to collide simultaneously. This time, however, it was different. This was my declaration.

Admittedly, there were more calculated, traditional, and intellectual paths I could have taken to resolve this. However, those routes would have birthed a dozen other complications. This specific move was a statement designed to resonate across the entire damn planet. It was a warning to every hidden power emerging from the shadows, hinting at targeting me or those I hold dear—especially my family.

Through this action, I’ve signaled to every observer that I am no easy prey. I have proven that I possess trump cards capable of striking fear into their hearts. Naturally, such a bold move has its consequences. My enemies will become more cunning; they will strike with greater desperation and hide with more sophistication. But that is a toll I am willing to pay.

Sifting through these reflections, I found the strength to stand firmly on my own. My borrowed power would soon dissipate. I turned a gaze toward Eleanor, whose eyes were trembling as she watched me. By doing this, I had shattered the constraints that held her. It wasn't a permanent fix, but with the situation now so warped, their foundation of logic had crumbled. Along with it, the chains forged by her oath had been severed.

"I did well, didn’t I?"

I directed the question and a smile toward Eleanor. She seemed dazed for a moment before returning a smile filled with pride.

"Yeah, yeah, you did..."

I smiled at her response and prepared to speak further, but suddenly, I froze. The warmth vanished from my face, replaced by an expression of icy indifference.

"Hahahahahaha... it seems fate truly has a grudge against me!"

My laughter carried a bone-chilling edge.

[The fate of a conqueror is no blessing. Every existence in the universe resists the notion of being conquered. One who carries the destiny of a conqueror will perpetually encounter defiance. This is amplified tenfold if you have provoked fate itself.]

[No. Fate isn't necessarily that spiteful. This is merely the natural laws of the world reacting against a conqueror—an anomaly outside the established narrative. As previously stated, the 'starter pack' issues you mentioned are gone. However, the destiny you’ve been granted is inherently antagonistic toward fate. In short, your streak of misfortune has officially commenced.]

[Incorrect. This is happening because the collective desire to resist has just been unleashed. All your bad luck is simply manifesting at the exact same moment.]

With those thoughts swirling, I vanished from my position. I tore through the surrounding pack like they were made of thin paper, racing toward a secluded area within the academy grounds. The moment I arrived, a familiar voice cried out.

"Brother!"

Despite my current state, Elda recognized me instantly. She called out from within the safety of a barrier. The pin I had gifted her, tucked into her hair, had generated a protective field that kept her unharmed. Yet, the residue of terror and the danger she had just faced still made her small frame tremble.

Even as these thoughts flickered, my mind remained sharp and frigid, fueled by a fury intense enough to level this entire floating continent. My gaze locked onto the six men surrounding the barrier. Their eyes bulged as they looked at me, their bodies paralyzed with fear. The sheer lust written on the faces of three of them was unmistakable.

"Ready to die?"

I asked the question in a deceptively light tone.

.....

Third Person POV:

Across the various archery towers of the world, a simultaneous humiliation was unfolding. The tower masters, the esteemed Quiverlords, were all being suppressed. The shame seared through them like a white-hot blade piercing their hearts. Their sacred grounds, symbols of their prestige, were being trampled upon.

Massive warships hovered in the sky, their very weapons turned against them. Formidable guards stood watch, yet they were helpless as their names and legacies were dragged through the dirt. That had been the grim reality until five minutes ago. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. It felt as though something monumental was occurring. After six minutes had passed, the world changed.

It was as if the firmament above had been torn asunder. A crushing, overwhelming force bore down on everyone present. Amidst that pressure, a single arrow, bright as a star, shot through the void. Before any of the elite guards or the high-ranking Imperials could even blink, the projectiles found their marks.

The arrows did not kill. Instead, like a shower of celestial bodies, streaks of blue light descended like comets. For a heartbeat, it looked like divine retribution. The lights struck with surgical precision, hitting every member of the War Council. The ships remained unscathed, but every guard and Council member standing outside was struck down instantly.

It truly resembled God’s judgment, specifically targeted at the War Council. No one could comprehend what had transpired. Before they could process the event, they were all incapacitated. None were slain or even gravely wounded; it was as if the arrows had lulled them into a deep, peaceful slumber.

However, some among them—the younger ones—began to scream, their skin turning a vivid red as they writhed on the ground. It required no brilliance to grasp the situation. The corruption hidden within them was being dragged into the light for all to see. It was a level of public disgrace never before seen. The War Council had never endured such a blatant mockery of their power and existence.

This scene repeated at every site occupied by the War Council. To many observers, it appeared as though a God had directly intervened to protect the Archery Association. In a heartbeat, the dignity, fury, and pride they had lost were fully restored. With a single move, Austin had returned everything to them. He had shielded them and reclaimed their honor while devastating those who dared to target them.

It was a magnificent turning point, a moment that would define the legend of Austin for the next thirty years. This event was being etched into the world's history, a tale that would be recounted for generations. This was the dawn of Austin's legend. The world now understood one absolute truth: crossing Austin Lionheart, regardless of one's status or power, would result in endless retribution.

The chronicles of history that Austin would write had begun. The opening page started with this global proclamation of his overwhelming might.

....

Meanwhile, in the wake of Austin’s departure, Elda remained in the room. Recalling the expressions on the faces of Austin and the others, she knew something terrible had happened. It served as another reminder of the immense weight resting on her brother’s shoulders. He had just bested a Juggernaut of the era through raw strength, yet he wasn't even granted a moment to savor the victory before being forced back into the fray.

It was profoundly unfair. Her brother should have been occupied with the simple concerns of someone his age. Instead, he was shackled by the burden of a hero, carrying a destiny he never sought. He was forced into endless battle, sacrificing any hope of a normal life. Elda detested this reality.

She wished for him to be happy, liberated from the world's pressures. But she recognized her current lack of power. The best she could do was strive to never be a hindrance, but rather someone who could stand by his side as a pillar of support. That became Elda’s new ambition.

With these reflections, Elda exited the room. Her mind was a whirlwind of complex emotions concerning her friends, the Dragon Princess, and the heavy duty her brother performed.

Just as she prepared to go find her friend, a voice called out to her.

"Student Elda?"