The instant Dylan spoke the name "Maximilian Morgan-Royce," the atmosphere shifted so hard that conversations stopped mid-breath.
People who recognized the legend behind that name reacted instantly—faces drained, spines straightened, and pupils tightened. A chill ran through anyone who ever heard stories about the man.
Highcliff's elite heirs were not oblivious trust-fund brats. Their families kept them plugged into global networks and private intelligence streams. Most of them never touched the martial path, although they read enough to know which figures towered above the world.
Maximilian sat in a class of his own.
He represented an entire era of dominance. A force so overwhelming that his legend endured decades after he stepped away from the front lines.
His influence ran deepest in Highcliff. Years ago, the Northern Wyvern Blade, the elite unit of the Northern Military District, crashed during the global special forces tournament. The incident embarrassed the entire district, prompting military command to deploy a mysterious chief instructor to rebuild the unit.
Twelve months later, the Northern Wyvern Blade returned to the global stage with a vengeance. They surpassed the Southern Wyvern Blade, stormed through elite forces from multiple countries, and spectacularly seized the top ranking. Their victory spread across the world like wildfire.
The man who resurrected that division carried a single name—Maximilian Morgan-Royce.
The military revered him. After resurrecting the Northern Wyvern Blade, he stayed on and trained an entire generation of officers. Nearly half the generals in Astria's region once learned under him.
People called him the Master of Thousands, and his influence stretched through bases nationwide.
He eventually retired and settled quietly in Seagate. Gareth rose soon after, pulling the spotlight toward a new era, although Maximilian's shadow never truly faded. Every young heir across the city memorized his name long before adulthood.
Regular students might not grasp his identity, yet hearing "Master of Thousands" in his title sent shivers down their arms. The name carried an aura too intense to misunderstand.
"Maximilian Morgan-Royce?" Leander murmured the name under his breath. He had suspected early on, yet hearing Dylan confirm it set everything into place.
Maximilian belonged to the legendary Four Extremes of Astria—figures whose power shaped national military history, although Leander had never met him in person. He learned the man's name as a child through the stories Gareth shared at home.
One sentence never faded from his memory: 'Across Astria, only one man truly earns my respect. He's also the one opponent I cannot promise I'd defeat.'
That opponent was Maximilian.
Gareth seldom acknowledged other martial giants nationwide. Even Grayson Shire, a Martial Sovereign at the top of the Astria Power Index, was rarely noticed by him. However, everything changed when Maximilian's name came up. Gareth's tone grew more respectful, his posture straightened, and his voice carried unmistakable reverence.
Leander's gaze deepened as memories surfaced. He never fully understood Maximilian's limits, although he knew this much—if there was a single person on the Astria Power Index he could not read, it was Maximilian.
The list ranked Maximilian third, but Leander never trusted that position. He believed the ranking did not accurately reflect the man's real skills.
The earlier Astria Power Index clearly demonstrated this. Maximilian maintained his lead over titans like Grayson without any mistakes, proving his exceptional talent. Nearly twenty years had gone by since that list was published, and it was unlikely that Maximilian's level had stayed stagnant for such a long period.
Evaluating his power with basic logic felt pointless. Leander believed that if Maximilian chose to step into the light again, the International Combat Units roster would place his name at the summit.
Seeing Leander go quiet, Dylan drew the wrong conclusion. He believed Leander had gone stiff from fear.
No wonder he jumped to that conclusion. The name Maximilian Morgan-Royce alone kept nearly every sect in Astria living on edge. For twenty years straight, he stood as the country's living myth of invincibility, a man no rival could touch.
He was the one who truly ruled the age that followed Astria's Dragon Emperor. If Leander had not risen in this generation, even Gareth would have struggled to dim the brilliance Maximilian cast across the entire nation.
Dylan crossed his arms with a smirk.
"Now you get it, right? You touch me, you pay. I'll repeat myself—kneel and apologize. My grandpa gives one command, and your sect vanishes. No one behind you will save you."
His arrogance spiked, fueled by the fact that even Ethan stopped cold whenever Maximilian's name surfaced. Who in their right mind thinks they can stand against a legacy that massive?



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