Lord of the realm

He looked around, eyes scanning the crowd in a daze—sweat on his brow, breath still ragged from the chaos that had just unfolded.

And then, suddenly, he froze.

There, standing at the edge of the gathering throng, was Jaenor.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow to that one familiar face.

His own expression twisted—first with shock, then with a surge of disbelief so raw it looked almost painful. His eyes widened, mouth parting slightly as if the air had been knocked out of him.

"Jaenor?" he breathed, the name barely making it past his lips.

It was as if he were seeing a ghost.

But before Jaenor could answer, their reunion was violently interrupted by a thunderous roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet.

The massive troll, having caught sight of the human who had emerged from its defeated opponent's crash site, turned its attention toward this new potential threat.

The creature's eyes, glowing with primitive rage, fixed on Baren with unmistakable hunger. It had been denied the satisfaction of devouring dragon flesh, and now a much smaller but still appetizing morsel had presented itself.

The troll raised its enormous wooden club once more, the weapon dripping with dragon's blood and scarred from countless battles. Each step it took toward Baren caused the ground to tremble, and the gathered travelers began to back away in terror, realizing they were about to witness another brutal execution.

But Jaenor was already moving.

The moment he saw the troll threatening his friend, something primal and protective awakened within him.

The Origin power that had been flowing quietly through his veins suddenly roared to life like a forge fire fed with fresh coal. His eyes began to blaze with inner light, and the air around him started to shimmer with barely contained energy.

"Get away from him," Jaenor said, his voice carrying across the battlefield with unnatural clarity.

The troll paused, its primitive brain struggling to process this new development.

Here was another human, but this one felt different somehow.

Dangerous.

The creature's nostrils flared as it tried to catch the scent of this newcomer, and what it found there made it take an unconscious step backward.

Jaenor strode forward, each footstep leaving small cracks in the hard-packed ground.

Crimson energy began to seep from his skin like liquid fire, starting as thin wisps but growing stronger and more vibrant with each passing second. The power coiled around his arms and torso like living serpents, and when he flexed his fingers, sparks of red lightning danced between them.

"I said get away from him," he repeated, and this time his voice carried the weight of absolute authority.

The troll, despite its limited intelligence, recognized a challenge when it heard one.

With a bellow that sent birds fleeing from the few trees still standing, it charged toward Jaenor with its massive club raised high above its head.

Jaenor quickly assessed the club's trajectory and the force behind it.

He raised his right hand toward the approaching monster, and crimson energy erupted from his palm like a geyser of liquid flame. It started to spiral out of his hand, slowly growing in size.

But instead of striking the troll directly, the power spread outward and upward, forming a swirling vortex that seemed to pull at the very air itself.

Within seconds, a giant storm had formed around the charging giant.

Winds that howled like a beast caught at its massive limbs, throwing off its balance and causing it to stumble. The crimson energy formed into writhing tendrils that lashed at the creature's stone-hard skin, each strike leaving smoking wounds that glowed with residual power. The storm of crimson energy shot continuously, like a million flashing strikes at the troll.

The troll roared in confusion and pain as it found itself caught in the center of an uncanny hurricane. Its club swung wildly, trying to strike at an enemy that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Lightning-fast whips of red energy struck from every direction—at its knees, its elbows, its thick neck, and its scarred face.

But Jaenor wasn't finished.

As the storm raged around the trapped troll, he launched himself forward with speed that defied human limitations. The Origin power had enhanced every aspect of his physical form, turning him into a superhuman without mortal limitations.

He bent forward, and then from his back, six crimson wings shot out, whipping like thunder. As they came out, they ripped off his tunic.

He moved like a bolt of crimson lightning given human shape, closing the distance between himself and his enemy in the space between heartbeats.

He pulled back his fist; Origin energy swelled up around his arm, rotating around his arm, and then he punched with a powerful roar.

His fist, wreathed in blazing red energy, connected with the troll's jaw with a sound like thunder crashing directly overhead.

The impact was devastating.

A huge ripple had been created where the punch connected and sent a shockwave around them with a reverberating boom, echoing throughout the forest.

The troll, despite weighing several tons and possessing skin tougher than most armor, was lifted completely off its feet by the force of the blow. Its massive head snapped back with such violence that several of the watchers were certain they heard its neck break. Blood, dark as old wine, sprayed from its mouth as it was hurled backward through the air.

The creature crashed into the remains of an old oak tree with enough force to reduce the centuries-old trunk to splinters.

For a moment, it lay stunned among the wreckage, its primitive brain struggling to comprehend what had just happened to it.

Even Odessa and Baren stared with wide eyes, completely shocked. Odessa hadn't expected to get in sync with the Origin stone this fast, and not only that, but he had grown significantly stronger physically too.

Baren stared at Jaenor with an open mouth, unable to believe what he was watching.

Wings? When did he get his wings?

And what is that ridiculous strength?