Benedict returned home again, clutching his throbbing head in bewilderment. He wondered to himself, "Was I having a nightmare? Wait..."
Benedict felt the subtle changes in his body. "That wasn't a dream... Those two old men really bestowed upon me the Ascendant Body."
Without pausing, he began preparing to avenge his father. He decided to start intense training.
…
He always knew this power was relentlessly damaging his body, but so what? He ultimately succeeded in avenging his father. That was enough.
However, after that, he plunged into deep confusion. He believed his strength existed solely to avenge his father. However, now that the revenge was accomplished, what should he do next?
That day, outside the conference room in the state capital, Zaafea's words resonated with him. He understood them well.
However, he knew he had to become reliable. He had to protect the Varhess family, and he needed more power, much more power.
Gradually, he noticed his body deteriorating daily. Using his power became an agony. Benedict felt lost, but he still needed this power. Everyone—the Divine Strategy Squadron and the people in the state capital—were all counting on him.
Zaafea's words echoed again, "When you lose your way, it's better to stop, or perhaps lay down your burdens for a while."
"But… I can't." Benedict immediately rejected the idea.
Who else could he rely on? He did not know. Perhaps that was why he often cried at his father's grave, but what good were complaints?
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