I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 390: NO! No, no, no, no, NO!

Jack walked forward, his boots echoing against the ancient stone floor. The chamber they stood in was massive, easily a hundred feet across, with a ceiling that disappeared into shadows above. Windows lined the walls, showing the vast landscape outside the castle.

Beyond those windows lay Floor 25.

Rhys still trembled near Father Caelen, his winter-ice eyes wide and unfocused. The amber eye had withdrawn, leaving only the glowing landscape visible through the glass.

But the damage was done. Rhys looked like someone who’d seen death itself staring back at them.

Sylph hovered near Rhys’s shoulder, her tiny form rigid with tension. Her black-and-green eyes darted between the windows and Jack, clearly trying to process what she’d just witnessed.

Jack stopped near the center window, his gaze sweeping across the landscape beyond. ”This is Floor 25 of Tartarus Spire,” he said, his voice carrying easily in the vast chamber. ”Along our training journey, we’re going to collect beasts. Strong ones. Ones worthy of being bound to my army.”

”Collect?” Sylph’s voice came out higher than usual. ”You mean the creatures outside? The ones in that... that impossible place?”

”Yes.” Jack’s tone remained calm, almost casual. ”We’ll be hunting across multiple floors, but this one is our starting point.”

Rhys finally found his voice, though it shook. ”That eye. That was...”

”Emberion,” Jack answered with a smile. ”A Magma Dragon. It’s an Emperor Class monster. And yes, before you ask, I said Emperor class.”

The silence that followed was defining.

Rhys’s face went pale. Sylph stopped moving entirely, frozen mid-flight like someone had pressed pause on her existence. Even Father Caelen’s serene expression flickered from the shock.

”Emperor Class,” Rhys whispered, his voice barely audible. ”You brought us to a floor with an Emperor Class monster???!!! WE’RE GOING TO DIE!!!!!”

”I brought you to a floor ruled by an Emperor Class monster,” Jack corrected. ”There’s a difference.”

”RULED BY?!” Sylph’s voice cracked. ”What does that mean?!”

Jack turned to face them fully. ”It means nothing on this floor will harm you because I am the ruler of Floor 25. Everything here, every creature, every spirit, every demon, all of them answer to me. Including Emberion.”

Rhys shook his head slowly, like someone trying to wake from a nightmare. ”That’s impossible. Emperor Class monsters don’t serve anyone. They’re too powerful. Too dangerous. They....”

”Have agreed to work for me,” Jack finished. ”Emberion and I came to an arrangement. When I’m strong enough, I’m going to hunt down Typhoon the Dragon King.”

The words hung in the air like a blade suspended over everyone’s heads.

Sylph’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again without any sound coming out.

Rhys stared at Jack with an expression that transcended shock and landed somewhere in the territory of complete mental breakdown.

Father Caelen’s staff made a soft sound as it touched the floor, the priest’s grip tightening fractionally.

”You...” Sylph finally managed to form words. ”You promised a dragon... an Emperor Class dragon... that you would kill the Dragon King?”

”Yes.”

”Typhoon,” Sylph continued, her voice climbing higher with each word. ”Typhoon the Dragon King. Tyrant Class. The strongest dragon alive. The creature that could level entire kingdoms if it wanted. THAT Typhoon?”

”That’s the one,” Jack confirmed.

Rhys made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. It was hard to tell which it was. His legs gave out, and he sat down hard on the stone floor, his hands shaking as they pressed against the ground. ”You’re insane. You’re completely insane.”

”Am I?” Jack’s tone carried a challenge. ”I beat you in a duel, didn’t I? And I’m just beginning my journey of strength.”

Sylph flew directly in front of Jack’s face, her tiny form vibrating with emotions too complex to name. ”That’s different! I’m a mythical spirit! Rhys is an elf prince! We’re not... we’re not...”

”Typhoon?” Jack interrupted. ”No, you’re not. But whether you’re a mythical spirit or not, whether Typhoon is Tyrant Class or not, I don’t care. Power is just a measurement. And measurements can be surpassed.”

Sylph opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. Her black-and-green eyes searched Jack’s face, looking for some sign that he was joking. Some indication that this was all an elaborate test or prank.

She found nothing but absolute certainty.

”You really believe you can do it,” she whispered. ”You actually think you can kill the Dragon King.”

”I know I can,” Jack replied. ”It’s just a matter of time and preparation.”

He walked closer to Rhys, who still sat on the floor looking like someone had shattered his entire understanding of reality. ”When I was six years old, I went into a coma. I stayed in that coma for ten years.”

Rhys’s head snapped up, his winter-ice eyes wide.

Sylph’s flight pattern stuttered. ”What?”

”Ten years,” Jack repeated. ”From age six to sixteen. I was unconscious. When I woke up, the world had moved on without me. My family had grown older. My sisters had developed their powers. And I had nothing.”

He met Sylph’s gaze directly. ”The Forgotten One told me I’d been stripped of all my affinities. Everything I might have had before the coma was gone. I only have lightning magic now because Draven chose me. Because the Forgotten One, the Lightning God, decided I was worth his blessing.”

Sylph’s tiny form went completely still. ”The Forgotten One.”

”Yes.”

”Draven. The Lightning God.” Her voice came out flat, emotionless. ”You’re telling me that Draven, the Forgotten One, has a chosen one. And that chosen one is you.”

”Yes.”

Sylph screamed.

Not a scream of fear or anger. This was something else entirely. A sound of pure mental overload, of someone whose brain had simply given up trying to process impossible information and decided screaming was the only appropriate response.

She flew in rapid circles, her tiny hands pressed against her head. ”NO! No, no, no, no, NO! This isn’t real! This can’t be real!”

Rhys stared at her, then at Jack. ”What’s wrong with her?”

”The Forgotten One’s chosen ones die,” Sylph gasped out between screaming. ”They always die! Either from the strain of channeling divine magic or from being killed by unknown forces! Every single one! That’s why he’s called the Forgotten One, because everyone who serves him gets forgotten because they’re DEAD!”

She whirled to face Jack, her black-and-green eyes blazing. ”You shouldn’t exist! You should have died years ago! The divine power should have burned you from the inside out, or assassins should have killed you in your sleep, or... or SOMETHING! But you’re here! You’re alive! You’re STRONG! This doesn’t make SENSE! YOU ARE AN ANOMALY!!!”

Jack waited patiently for her tirade to end. When she finally ran out of breath, hovering in place while panting heavily, he spoke again. ”Are you finished?”

”No!” Sylph shouted. ”I’m not finished! I’m never going to be finished! This is too much! First, you have Soul Magic, which should have gotten you killed by The Council! Then you have an Emperor Class dragon working for you! Then you promise to kill the Dragon King! And NOW you’re telling me you’re the chosen one of the most dangerous gods in existence?!”