The Sovereign Chronicles novel Chapter 25

Titus Ironridge, widely feared within the Sanctum as 'The Unbreakable.' He was universally acknowledged as the Prime Initiate most likely to ascend to Gold-Crest Paragon status—yet paradoxically, he could never formally claim the title. He wasn't an orthodox member of the Sanctum; he was a Vassal Initiate.

He hailed from House Ironridge, lords of the eastern coastal territories.

House Ironridge was an anomaly among the noble houses. Rumor stated they did not operate as a standard centralized clan. Instead, they employed a 'feral' upbringing. At age ten, every scion was cast out of the territory to seek their own tutelage and survive the harsh world independently. They only returned to the ancestral estate to marry, sire heirs, or attend the grand House conclave held once every three years.

Although the members of House Ironridge operated in isolation, their bloodline bound them with terrifying loyalty. If a scion died a natural death abroad, the House turned a blind eye. But if one was murdered, hundreds of iron-willed zealots would descend to enact an endless, bloody vengeance.

No one knew Titus's exact standing within his family, but his aura suggested pureblood direct descent. He had arrived at the Sanctum at age ten, notoriously antisocial and eccentric, ignoring all political networking. However, his raw talent was horrifying. He had just breached Phase Nine of the Spirit Warrior Tier this year.

Absolutely no one in their right mind provoked a man like that.

Kaelen had no ties to Titus and had never spoken to him. He had no idea why this apex predator was suddenly locking onto him.

Titus didn't look down on Kaelen. Instead, he pulled up a chair and sat squarely across from him, leaning in. His narrow, razor-sharp eyes scanned Kaelen with surgical precision.

The whispering spectators leaned closer. This fanatic was a phantom; he isolated himself entirely. Why was he taking an interest in Kaelen? Was he offended by Kaelen's existence and planning to cripple him?

Titus stared directly into Kaelen's eyes. "You are not Phase Three."

"You can see through Aether concealment?" Kaelen was genuinely surprised. Was the man guessing, or did he possess some ocular art?

Titus ignored the question. "You're taking *The Titan's Vigor*?"

"That is the plan."

"What is the kinetic output of your raw punch?"

"Eight hundred pounds."

*Eight hundred?!* The eavesdropping Prime Initiates visibly recoiled. The kid was a monster. That was an absurd biological baseline. If he actually mastered *The Titan's Vigor*, the resulting amplification would be catastrophic.

Titus, however, looked faintly disappointed. "There is only one Initiate in the entire Sanctum who practices *The Titan's Vigor*—a Prime Initiate named Darian. The raw output of his strike sits at one thousand, five hundred pounds."

Kaelen remained unfazed. He just couldn't grasp why Titus had sought him out.

"Of course, Darian is eighteen, and sits at Phase Eight. There is a mathematical probability that your output will eclipse his in the future."

"Do you need something from me?" Kaelen asked bluntly. He was losing valuable time he needed for the codex.

"I want to test my fists against yours."

"Right now?"

"In the future." Titus stood up and walked away without another word.

The spectators stared blankly at each other. That was it? They had anticipated a bloodbath.

Some of the sharper minds quickly realized the gravity of the interaction. Titus had taken a direct interest in Kaelen. Was he claiming Kaelen as an investment? If this fanatic declared Kaelen under his jurisdiction, who would ever dare harass him again?

Kaelen shrugged. It sounded like a preemptive declaration of war, but he brushed it off and dove back into *The Titan's Vigor*.

Realizing there would be no bloodshed, the crowd dispersed.

Kaelen spent two full hours devouring the codex. The yield was monumental. His self-taught iterations of the first three phases were indeed riddled with inefficiencies. Now, he could completely overhaul his Aether circuitry. The descriptions of the fourth and fifth phases entirely lived up to the myth—they aggressively forced the body to shatter its biological limiters, amplifying kinetic force by four to five times.

But as he reached the back of the manual, he frowned. The final pages had been violently torn out. Judging by the wear on the binding, the pages had been missing for years.

"Excuse me, Senior. Does *The Titan's Vigor* not possess a sixth phase?" Kaelen stood and asked a quiet, studious Initiate reading nearby.

The Initiate didn't show any disdain toward Kaelen, answering amicably. "When it was first inscribed, it did. Legend states the sixth phase could amplify force by eight or even ten times. However, the physical toll was apocalyptic. Decades ago, several Initiates quite literally detonated their own bodies attempting it. The Sanctum Masters ordered the sixth phase ripped from the binding. It is strictly forbidden to practice."

Kaelen nodded in slow realization. A ten-fold amplification? That was an unimaginable, reality-breaking level of violence.

The Initiate closed his own tome and pointed toward the ceiling. "The true iteration of *The Titan's Vigor* lies up there."

"I thought the sixth phase was destroyed? They kept a master copy?"

"Not a copy. The progenitor codex. It is titled the *Codex of the Primeval Titan*. It is a dual-cultivation method, refining both the internal Aether Core and the external flesh simultaneously to achieve the absolute zenith of physical output. It is classified as a Low-tier Mystic Art. *The Titan's Vigor* you hold is merely a fragmented, external application derived from that master text."

The Elder sighed deeply, stamped the ledger, and handed it back. He was only obligated to advise; if the boy wanted to shatter his own bones, so be it.

Kaelen walked out of The Vanguard Vault with *The Titan's Vigor* firmly in hand, a sharp grin forming on his face. Now it was time for thirty days of unadulterated, agonizing training. However, the moment he stepped onto the shaded forest path, a sharp whistle pierced the air from a nearby thicket, followed by a conspiratorial hiss.

"Psst! Hey! Lord Kaelen? Over here. Yes, here. It's me. Don't attack, I'm friendly."

Kaelen glanced over. Peeking from behind the trunk of a massive pine was a perfectly spherical, hairless head, grinning wildly at him. "Come 'ere! Come over here. Business to discuss."

"Either you step into the light, or we don't talk." Kaelen recognized the youth immediately. He was another Prime Initiate, but of the 'legacy' variety. His talent was entirely mediocre, but he possessed limitless capital, top-tier resources, a premium codex, and an Elder paid specifically to train him. Thus, his combat power was artificially boosted to an acceptable level.

"Relax, relax, why would I harbor any malice toward you?" Checking his surroundings to ensure they were alone, the youth cleared his throat, adjusted his lavish robes, and waddled out from behind the tree.

His name was Petyr van Orrin. He was the scion of The Orrin Syndicate, a mercantile empire from the Northern Reaches. His family held an absolute monopoly over the mana-crystal enterprises, controlling vast mining operations across entire mountain ranges. Their wealth was bottomless, and their political web was terrifying.

Lately, however, The Orrin Syndicate seemed to be pivoting their investments from mere crystals to powerful individuals.

"What do you want?" Kaelen stared at Petyr's staggering silhouette in sheer awe. He was a rotund figure—round from head to toe, so completely spherical that even his hairless, browless head looked like a polished orb. He resembled a stack of uneven fleshy spheres magically bound together into a vaguely humanoid shape.

Kaelen had spotted him from afar many times, but this was their first face-to-face encounter.

He was fat, but he carried it with an almost architectural precision. He was spherical, yet undeniably majestic.

Achieving such an impossible physique was honestly a talent in itself.

"I have an excellent proposition for you." Petyr squeezed his eyes shut in a wide grin, effectively erasing his facial features and making his face look like a giant, pale loaf of bread.

Kaelen desperately wanted to maintain a stoic expression to avoid insulting the man, but the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily. "I'm listening."

Petyr quickly closed the distance, his flesh undulating with every step. He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "To demonstrate my absolute sincerity, I will gift you a piece of vital intelligence. Maelor was taken away by the Grand Elder yesterday afternoon. The word is, the Elder is personally locking him in a hyperbolic chamber to train him for the next thirty days."

*Oh?* The gears in Kaelen's mind clicked into place. Secreting Maelor away now meant only one thing—the Grand Elder was ensuring Maelor was an apex killer for the arena duel next month.

"You need to mentally prepare yourself. The moment Maelor pushes his *Verdict of True Thunder* to mastery, you are a dead man walking. Lightning-aspect arts have the highest destructive scaling in the world. Surviving a full hourglass against him? Highly improbable," Petyr warned. What he actually thought was: *It's mathematically impossible.*