Elara, ever the curious and excited soul, marveled at the sight of it all. The overwhelming bustle of the city filled her with awe, and for a brief moment, she forgot about the dangers they had faced in their journey. She wandered off into the crowd, her excitement too much to contain. Kieran didn't stop her; he had his own focus, a far deeper one.

But as soon as he crossed the threshold of the gates, he felt something was wrong. The tension in the air was palpable, and Kieran's instincts, honed by countless battles, immediately flared. He was being watched. It wasn't just the ordinary gazes of the townspeople either-it was the sharp, calculating eyes of the city's guards.

"Stop right there!" one of the guards barked, stepping forward with a hand raised. The others flanked him, drawing their weapons. "Who are you, and what business do you have in Veldrath?"

Kieran remained silent, his cold gaze never faltering. He knew they were suspicious of him-after all, there had been rumors of strange, powerful figures arriving in the city recently. But he had not come here to deal with petty concerns. His power had grown beyond anything they could comprehend, and if they were foolish enough to challenge him, they would soon learn how weak they were in comparison.

The guards moved closer, weapons at the ready. "This is your last chance. State your name, or we'll take action."

Kieran's eyes narrowed. He knew that speaking would only delay the inevitable. Without a word, he vanished into the shadows, his figure blending seamlessly with the dark alleyways of the city. The guards shouted in confusion, scrambling to locate him, but Kieran was already moving, a blur of motion.

He darted through the streets with supernatural speed, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, the sound of pursuing guards growing distant. Their weapons wouldn't work against him, and they knew it. Panic set in as Kieran toyed with them, evading every attack they sent his way. One guard swung a spear at him, but Kieran vanished once again, appearing behind him and striking him down with a swift movement. The other guards stood frozen in fear, unsure of how to handle someone so fast, so skilled.

Meanwhile, Elara wandered deeper into the city, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding just beyond the bustling streets. She marveled at the magical stalls and the variety of enchanted items on display. For a moment, she felt like she could finally relax, feeling safer than she had in days.

But the calm was short-lived. A figure suddenly appeared before her, dressed in the regal robes of one of the city's legendary mages. Elara, startled, looked up at him. The mage's piercing eyes seemed to study her in a way that made her uneasy.

"You," he said, his voice smooth yet commanding. "Where is the man you arrived with?"

Elara hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. But before she could speak, there was a sudden burst of energy, and the entire street seemed to shake with the force. Kieran had been discovered.

Elara spun around just in time to see a massive chain materialize from the mage's hands. The chain, glowing with an ethereal light, wrapped around Kieran's body, binding him in place.

The legendary mage, Roderick Thorn, was known throughout Veldrath for his Chain Skill, a powerful form of magic that allowed him to conjure and manipulate chains made from raw magical energy. With a flick of his wrist, the chains tightened, and Kieran's movements were immediately restricted.

"Stop resisting," Roderick commanded, his voice unwavering. "You're in Veldrath now, and you will answer to the King."

Kieran's eyes burned with fury as he struggled against the chains. He was not used to being restrained, especially not by magic. But something inside him-something primal and relentless-began to awaken. He wasn't going to let anyone control him, not now, not after everything he had endured.

"I'm not your prisoner," Kieran growled, his voice cold and defiant.

Roderick's eyes flashed with amusement. "You'll learn to follow orders. Now, come with me. The King will want to speak with you."

Before Kieran could respond, the mage's chains glowed brighter, and with a single motion, Kieran was dragged along, unable to escape. Elara watched from a distance, fear creeping into her heart. She had never seen Kieran act this way before, so full of anger and defiance. She knew then that they were far from done with the city's trials.

The guards had regrouped by now, and together with Roderick, they escorted Kieran through the crowded streets, dragging him toward the royal palace. The people of Veldrath looked on with curious eyes, whispering amongst themselves about the strange, powerful man who had caused such a commotion.

But Kieran didn't care about their whispers. His thoughts were on something far greater. He had come to Veldrath not just to find answers, but to reshape the world according to his will. And now that he had drawn the attention of the King and the city's legendary mage, it seemed his journey was about to take a new turn.

The time for answers was near, and Kieran Valdros would not be silenced.

The streets of Veldrath buzzed with activity, yet a tense silence fell upon the royal procession as Kieran was escorted through the grand gates. The people sensed something more than just a powerful individual-the air crackled with the energy surrounding him, a strange and ominous force that made them uneasy. But Kieran remained unfazed, his expression locked in an icy mask of determination.

The guards, having learned nothing from their earlier mistakes, were still on edge, their weapons tightly gripped. But it wasn't them who Kieran should have been worried about. It was those who watched from the shadows-the ones who had been waiting for an opportunity to strike.

The three men who had harassed Elara earlier emerged from the crowd, stepping into the path of Kieran and the royal guards. Their confident smirks were twisted with a cruel intent, as they had more than just physical confrontation in mind.

"Well, well, well," the tallest of them, a man with a lean frame and sharp features, sneered as he approached Elara, his eyes glinting maliciously. "It seems we meet again, and this time, you won't escape so easily."

The other two men, equally imposing with their dark, noble attire, flanked him, closing in on Elara with predatory intent. They had a presence that spoke of wealth and power-titles beyond mere nobility. These men were the Dukes of Veldrath, with influence that stretched across the capital. They relished in their power, knowing that nothing could touch them.

"Elara Veylin, you've caused quite the disturbance in the capital," one of them taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "And now, your pet has drawn the attention of the King. How amusing. But this is where your little escape ends."

Elara stood her ground, though fear simmered beneath her calm demeanor. "I don't know what you want from me, but leave me alone."

Kieran, bound by Roderick's chains, was a mere observer for now. His gaze flicked over to the Dukes, but his thoughts were distant, consumed by something far more sinister.

"Let her go," Kieran finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

The Dukes laughed, amused by his weak attempt at defiance. They could see that Kieran's magic had been sealed, his strength restrained, and they believed him to be no threat. But what they didn't know was that Kieran was far from powerless.

The tallest Duke smirked as he stepped closer to Elara, placing a hand on her shoulder with a force that made her flinch. "Your protector won't save you now. Tell him to stand down. We want him to show his true colors-his motivations. It's time to see what you're really made of."

Kieran's eyes darkened as the mockery in their words reached him. He felt something stirring inside of him-an eruption of fury and hatred. The insult to Elara, the disdain in their actions, and the oppressive weight of his past experiences combined into a singular moment of overwhelming rage.

The anger inside him flared to an uncontrollable degree, and just as the Dukes moved to further humiliate Elara, something else happened-something entirely beyond what anyone expected.

A faint, crackling sound of magic resonated in the air, so subtle at first, it seemed like nothing more than a whisper. But then, it grew. The ground trembled beneath them, and a blinding light erupted from Kieran's body, shattering the darkness like a divine force unleashing itself.

His forehead burned with an intense, radiant symbol-the Infinity Symbol-glowing brightly with ethereal energy. His eyes, once cold and unreadable, now glowed a fierce red, filled with an otherworldly power. The symbol on his forehead pulsated, a mark that no mortal should bear, signifying his connection to the gods themselves.

The chains that had once bound him shattered like fragile glass, falling to the ground with a resounding crash. Kieran stood tall, his body now radiating an aura so potent, it seemed to warp the air around him. His hands clenched into fists, and with a single, slow motion, he pointed a finger at Roderick Thorn, who was standing in disbelief nearby.

Before anyone could react, an invisible force erupted from Kieran's fingertip, crashing into Roderick with the force of a hundred storms. The legendary mage was sent flying backward, crashing into the stone wall with enough power to crack it, leaving him incapacitated on the ground. The air around Kieran buzzed with a primal, furious energy, and the sky above seemed to darken in response to the force of his power.

Elara, witnessing this overwhelming display, stood frozen in shock. Kieran was no longer the man she had traveled with. The anger, the hatred-something else had taken over him. She could see it in his eyes: he wasn't just angry anymore. He had become the embodiment of wrath, a force of nature that nothing could control.

The Dukes, who had been reveling in their apparent victory, now cowered in fear as they realized the true scale of the power before them. They had underestimated Kieran, and it would cost them dearly. They attempted to step back, their noble demeanor slipping as they stammered in disbelief.

"This... this is impossible!" the tallest Duke exclaimed, his voice trembling.

Kieran turned toward them slowly, the red glow in his eyes intensifying. His voice was no longer calm or controlled. It was filled with pure rage, as if every ounce of hatred he had bottled up throughout his life had been released in this single moment.

"I was weak once," Kieran growled, his voice reverberating with the raw power of his magic. "But no longer. You will feel the weight of everything you've done. The world will know my name, and it will tremble beneath me."

The Dukes scrambled, desperate to flee, but it was already too late. Kieran raised his hand, and the ground beneath them trembled. A powerful surge of energy blasted from him, sending the men tumbling backward, their noble pride shattered as they fell to the ground, incapacitated by the sheer force.

As silence fell over the streets of Veldrath, the people who had once looked on with awe now trembled in fear. Kieran was no longer just a man-he was something else entirely, a force that bent the very fabric of reality with his hatred.

But as his power waned, Kieran's anger remained. His journey was far from over. The gods themselves had marked him, and now the world would feel the weight of that mark.

No one would be safe from the wrath of Kieran Valdros.

The royal halls of Veldrath were in chaos. The once-pristine marble floors now cracked under the strain of Kieran's uncontrolled power. The King, seated on his grand throne, looked down with an air of authority, but beneath it, there was a growing unease.

Kieran's eyes burned with an ethereal red light as he walked slowly toward the throne, each step causing the air to crackle with raw, violent energy. His presence alone sent waves of tension through the room, as if the very atmosphere had thickened with the weight of his hatred. Guards lined the path to the King, weapons drawn, their faces filled with fear and determination.

"Stop him!" one of the guards shouted, his voice trembling.

Without a word, the guards rushed at Kieran, their swords gleaming under the torches' light. The first strike was swift, aiming for Kieran's shoulder, but as it neared, it seemed to stop mid-air. A faint distortion rippled around Kieran's body, and the sword clattered harmlessly to the ground. The second guard lunged forward with magic, unleashing a bolt of searing lightning, but it was swallowed by a barrier of darkness and light that Kieran summoned effortlessly. The bolt fizzled out, harmless.

The guards, their faces now pale with shock, kept coming, but each strike failed-each spell fizzled into nothingness as if Kieran were an immovable force, impervious to everything they threw at him. Their weapons bounced off his skin as though they were nothing but mere toys, their magic recoiling in defeat.

Kieran walked with an eerie calm, stepping over the fallen soldiers as though they were inconsequential. With each movement, his aura grew, the air around him warping as if reality itself was bending to his will. His eyes never left the King, who now began to understand that no amount of power could stop this force before him.

"Enough!" the King finally commanded, his voice filled with both fear and authority. "I will handle this myself."

With a wave of his hand, the King activated an ancient relic-the Eye of Veldrath, an artifact of unimaginable power that allowed him to see through the very fabric of reality. The King's eyes glowed as he gazed upon Kieran's being, a ripple of power filling the room.

The King's expression changed the moment he saw Kieran's status.

"Impossible..." the King whispered under his breath.