Chapter Eighty-Six: The Chosen of Destiny

Thus, half a month passed swiftly.

After half a month, on a high pavilion, Atis looked down at the trainees below, nodding with satisfaction.

“Your Majesty, would you like to go inside and take a look?” Beside him stood a young man of striking handsomeness, who bowed slightly as he spoke to Atis.

Atis nodded lightly. “Kekus, since this group was selected, it has already been half a month. How are the results?”

“Quite good,” Kekus replied. “Though only half a month has passed, most of those selected had a solid foundation and are diligent, so the outcomes are promising. At this point, placing them in basic positions across the realm poses no issue whatsoever.”

“In fact, among them, many are truly talented,” he said, looking at Atis.

“Oh?” Atis was curious. “It’s rare to hear you call someone talented.”

Kekus only smiled. “Not necessarily talent—some possess gifts that are simply astonishing.”

“Let’s go see for ourselves,” Atis agreed.

A little later, half a day afterward, Atis led Kekus and others into a large encampment.

Inside, many people were training. Unlike the usual drills of common soldiers, these men practiced not with ordinary weapons but with true combat skills and battle energy.

Bare-chested, most carried massive swords, sweat streaming as they performed complicated maneuvers. Before them stood knight instructors, their battle energy faintly visible—true knights, brought here by Atis from diverse origins to instruct the trainees.

The atmosphere was vibrant and intense. If one looked closely, each body on the field seemed to be in a special state, their battle energy appearing and disappearing, as if brewing within.

“Hmm, their battle energy is already germinating. If this continues for another half month, I believe they’ll all grasp battle energy,” Atis said, nodding from outside the training ground.

Just then, a man from the field walked over and bowed to Atis.

“Your Majesty, this is one of the camp’s commanders,” Kekus explained. “These officers, recruited for training, spend the days learning martial skills and participating in ceremonies to honor the gods of nature; at night, they rehearse. After half a month, the results may not be dramatic, but they are far stronger than before.”

“The best among them, as per your orders, will be selected for higher posts, such as centurions.”

“Oh? What are the criteria?” Atis asked with a smile.

“Selection is based on martial skill assessments every five days, daily conduct, and background,” Kekus replied.

“Since Your Majesty is here today, perhaps you could watch their assessment?” he suggested.

Hearing this, Atis smiled and nodded. “Very well.”

“Let’s hold a banquet here today, so I can properly see your achievements.”

He looked up at the sky, watching as threads of fate tangled above the field, anticipation rising within him.

By noon, the news that the king himself would host a banquet for the warriors taking the assessment spread through the camp, causing a stir.

Originally, they had come here to earn merit, some hoping to restore their families to nobility. If they could display their courage before the king, surely they would win greater favor.

With such aspirations, the already intense atmosphere grew ever more tense. Nearly everyone trained harder, eager to show their best to the king.

Yet, there were exceptions.

“Ogdyn, the assessment is soon—aren’t you going to train harder?” a voice called from behind.

Ahead, Ogdyn sat quietly, his old leather armor replaced by a simple linen robe.

He appeared calm; though burly and robust, he carried a steadiness that made him stand out among the anxious faces around.

“Arnold, what’s the point of last-minute training?” Ogdyn rose, facing the man behind him. “There are only a few hours left until the assessment. Even if I throw myself into training now, how much could I really improve?”

“In fact, I think excessive nervous training might just exhaust me, or even increase the risk of injury.”

Arnold was momentarily speechless, then managed a wry smile. “Of course I know that. But with everyone else training so hard and us resting here, the king might not think well of us.”

Ogdyn only shook his head, saying nothing more.

As the two moved, an unseen ripple slowly spread, subtly affecting something.

“Kekus, what do you think of those two?” Atis asked, gazing at Ogdyn and Arnold from afar.

“Just a bit clever,” Kekus observed. “To resist the pressure of others’ expectations is commendable, but that alone doesn’t show much.”

Atis nodded in agreement, lips twitching as he prepared to speak.

But then, a faint, familiar pulse came from afar, making him pause.

“This familiar feeling?”

He murmured, puzzled, and looked toward the source. His pale golden eyes gleamed.

High above, flickers of divine light from faith were gathering. Below, countless threads of fate intertwined, rendering the camp complex.

Yet amid this tangled web, a streak of purple stood out, visible even through layers of fate.

As this purple aura appeared, a shard of starlight above Atis’s head suddenly blazed, trembling gently as the destiny flowing into it seemed drawn by something, growing deeper.

At the same time, a yearning surfaced in his heart, like a famished traveler suddenly spying a feast.

Following the faint purple aura, Atis sought its origin—Ogdyn.

In the vision of the gods, above Ogdyn’s head, a birthright of blue and purple shone vividly. Over it, a thin veil of blue-purple fate sheltered him.

This was extraordinary.

With a blue-purple birthright, one could reach the fifth rank unhindered. Coupled with blue-purple fate, he was a seed for the fifth rank; barring disaster, he had great potential to reach it.

Atis glanced up again, letting the unseen pull guide him, divine power surging to his eyes.

Instantly, the final barrier of fate shattered, revealing the true scene.

Upon Ogdyn’s body, a tiny fragment of star shimmered, constantly drawing destiny toward itself, forming a thin layer of purple aura that steadily reinforced his birthright.

“A contender for the world’s position, a potential rival for the Child of the World?”

Atis was surprised, but after some thought, he understood.

With the division of the Child of the World’s status, each inheritor claims a share; those with the largest portions naturally draw the world’s consciousness, forming their own momentum—what is called a Pillar of Heaven.

Those with lesser shares must lie low; their numbers are greater. Though they cannot form their own momentum, they still qualify as competitors—potential rivals.

It’s like the founders of a dynasty: the sovereign naturally possesses destiny, but do the meritorious generals and wise ministers have none?

Of course they do—the only difference is the amount.

Across the vast North, it was inevitable that more than just Atis and a few others possessed such status; clearly, there were hidden bearers of destiny, and not a few.

Here was one before him.

Atis gazed silently at the tiny fragment above Ogdyn’s head.

It was small—perhaps a fifth of Atis’s own—but it carried a thin thread of destiny, quietly strengthening him.

Seeing this, Atis hesitated.

“To kill, or not?” he wondered.

If he ordered Ogdyn’s execution now, the man could not escape; with his death, Atis could seize that portion of destiny, advancing further.

Yet, such a small amount would not change the current situation much.

It was too weak, and to kill him outright seemed wasteful.

So Atis’s killing intent, rising for a moment, gradually faded as his thoughts cleared, restoring his calm.

With the dissipation of murderous intent and clarity of mind, the star fragment above his head ceased its trembling and settled into quiet once more.