Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Sweat trickled down my back as Bryce Blackthorne circled me like a predator. The man was too damn perceptive. Behind him, Bert Mercer's smug expression had returned, his crossbow trained on my chest.

"These aren't Mighty Realm Bodies at all, are they?" Bryce's voice carried a hint of amusement. "You're losing control."

I kept my face expressionless, though inside I was scrambling. The motionless corpses of Vernon and Hadwin stood like useless statues beside me. My connection to them had completely severed.

"You know nothing," I bluffed, buying seconds to think.

Bryce shook his head. "I know deception when I see it." He moved with startling speed, his hand shooting forward to touch Vernon's arm.

The ancient corpse didn't react. Not even a flinch.

"As I suspected," Bryce announced, turning to Mercer. "He's lost control. These corpses are powerless now."

I needed to act fast. With a flick of my wrist, I activated my Spatial Magic Artifact, and both corpses disappeared into its depths. No point maintaining a failed deception.

"Smart move," Bryce acknowledged. "Cutting your losses."

"I don't need them to handle you two," I said, squaring my shoulders.

Bert Mercer stepped forward, his face twisted with hatred. "You killed the Guild President."

So that was their angle. "I did no such thing."

"Lying won't save you," Mercer spat. "We found evidence linking you directly to his death."

"Fabricated evidence, no doubt," I countered.

Mercer's face darkened. "The Guild doesn't need to fabricate anything." He raised his crossbow. "This is Earth Rank, you know. It can pierce through Peak Form Martial Marquis defenses."

"I'm impressed you need such a crutch," I taunted. "Can't fight with your own power?"

His finger tightened on the trigger. "Let's see how your fist holds up against this."

The bolt launched with blinding speed, and I made a split-second decision. Instead of dodging, I raised my fist directly in its path.

The impact was devastating. The bolt shattered my knuckles, driving through my hand. Pain exploded up my arm, but I forced myself not to flinch. Blood dripped onto the polished floor.

"First blood to you," I acknowledged, pulling the bolt from my flesh.

Mercer's eyes widened slightly. "You didn't dodge."

"I wanted to see what I'm dealing with," I replied, wiping blood on my pants. The wound began healing already—not completely, but enough to be functional. "Impressive weapon. Shame about the wielder."

Bryce stepped forward. "Enough talk. You're coming with us to face justice."

"Justice?" I laughed. "Is that what the Guild calls murder these days?"

Bryce moved without warning, his fist connecting with my chest. The blow would have killed an ordinary man, but I'd been expecting it. I channeled my energy to absorb the impact, letting my body slide back several feet.

"Your physical body is impressive," Bryce noted, genuine surprise in his voice. "Most Martial Knights would have collapsed from that."

I straightened, ignoring the throbbing pain. "I'm not most Martial Knights."

"No," Bryce agreed. "You're more troublesome."

He attacked again, this time with a flurry of strikes so fast they blurred. I blocked what I could, took hits where necessary, and countered when possible. Each impact jarred my bones, but I stood my ground.

After thirty seconds of intense exchange, we separated. I was breathing hard, my ribs definitely cracked, but Bryce looked mildly surprised.

"Your cultivation is inferior," he said, "yet your physical body rivals mine. How?"

"Good genetics," I quipped, tasting blood.

Mercer watched from the side, crossbow ready. "Stop playing with him, Bryce. Let me end this."

"Patience," Bryce replied. "I want to understand what we're dealing with."

I used the brief respite to assess my options. Two Peak Form Martial Marquis against one Martial Knight with a damaged hand and cracked ribs. Not ideal odds.

"Why rely on that crossbow, Bert?" I called out. "Don't you have any real weapons? Or is technology all you've got?"

Mercer bristled. "This crossbow is worth more than your life. Earth Rank weapons are rare even among the elite."

"Earth Rank," I repeated mockingly. "Sounds impressive until you realize there's Heaven Rank above it."

"As if you'd know anything about truly powerful weapons," Mercer scoffed. "Have you ever even seen a Martial Saint weapon? One with a saint's breath infused in it?"

"Funny you should mention that," I said, reaching slowly into my spatial ring.

Bryce tensed. "Careful now."

"Just answering his question," I replied. My fingers closed around the handle of the weapon I'd kept hidden for emergencies. This certainly qualified.

"Even if you had a Heaven Rank weapon, it wouldn't help you," Mercer continued arrogantly. "Without a saint's breath, it's just metal and inscription."

"Is that so?" I pulled out the Prajna Ruler, allowing its golden light to illuminate the room.

The effect was immediate. Both men stiffened, their faces frozen in shock as they felt the weapon's aura. It wasn't just the intricate craftsmanship or the shimmering golden material—it was the palpable sense of power that emanated from it.

Mercer's face drained of color. "Prajna Ruler? How... how can it be on you!"

I smiled, feeling the warm connection between the weapon and my palm. "You were saying something about a saint's breath?"

The weapon hummed in my hand, responding to my energy. Its golden glow intensified, casting dancing shadows across the walls of the hall.

"Impossible," Bryce whispered. "The Prajna Ruler was lost centuries ago."

"Lost things have a way of being found," I replied, enjoying their stunned expressions. "By the right person."

Mercer's hands trembled slightly on his crossbow. "That weapon belongs to the Guild."

"Strange," I said, examining the Prajna Ruler. "I don't see the Guild's name on it."

The atmosphere in the room had completely shifted. Where before they'd been confident predators, now uncertainty clouded their eyes. A Martial Saint weapon changed everything.

"Where did you get it?" Bryce demanded, his voice harder now.

"That's my business," I replied. "But since you're so interested in weapons with a saint's breath, I thought you might like to see one up close."

I channeled a small portion of my energy into the Prajna Ruler, and it responded instantly. The golden light intensified, forming a halo around the weapon. The air itself seemed to vibrate with its power.

"That's not just any saint's breath," Mercer muttered, taking an involuntary step backward. "That's from one of the Ancients."

Bryce remained more composed, but I could see calculations happening behind his eyes. The odds had just shifted dramatically.

"Having a weapon you don't know how to use won't save you," Bryce said finally, though his confidence sounded forced.

"Who says I don't know how to use it?" I challenged, shifting into a fighting stance. The Prajna Ruler felt perfect in my hands, almost as if it had been made for me. In truth, I was still learning its capabilities, but they didn't need to know that.

Mercer raised his crossbow again, but his hands weren't steady. "Earth Rank weapons can still pierce through defense."

"Can they pierce through a Martial Saint's defense?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Let's find out."

I raised the Prajna Ruler, and something extraordinary happened. The weapon's golden light condensed, forming a shield-like barrier in front of me. I hadn't commanded this—the weapon seemed to be responding to my intention rather than specific instructions.

"He can't control it," Bryce observed sharply. "Look at his face—he's as surprised as we are."

Damn his perceptiveness.

"Whether I can control it fully or not doesn't matter," I replied truthfully. "What matters is that it recognizes me as its wielder. And it doesn't seem to like you very much."

As if responding to my words, the Prajna Ruler pulsed once, sending out a wave of golden energy that knocked both men back several steps.

Mercer stumbled, nearly dropping his precious crossbow. "This changes nothing," he insisted, though his voice lacked conviction. "You're still accused of killing the Guild President."

"And you still have no proof," I countered. "Just fabricated evidence and empty accusations."

Bryce had recovered his footing and was studying me with new interest. "The Prajna Ruler chooses its wielder carefully," he said. "It wouldn't respond to just anyone."

"Perhaps I'm not 'just anyone,'" I suggested.

A tense silence filled the room as we faced each other. The dynamic had shifted. Where before they had been the hunters and I the prey, now uncertainty colored every move.

Mercer broke first. "We should retreat and report this," he said to Bryce, not taking his eyes off the Prajna Ruler.

"Running away so soon?" I taunted. "After all your big talk about Earth Rank weapons?"

Mercer's face flushed with anger. "Don't mistake caution for fear, Knight."

"Then what should I mistake it for? Cowardice?"

Bryce held up a hand. "Enough. This situation requires... reassessment."

I took a step forward, and both men tensed. "Before you go running back to your masters, remember this: I didn't kill your Guild President. But if you keep coming after me with false accusations and ambushes, I might start eliminating those who send you."

The threat hung in the air between us, made all the more potent by the glowing weapon in my hand.

"You threaten the entire Guild at your peril," Bryce warned.

"And the Guild threatens me at theirs," I replied evenly. "Now, will you leave peacefully, or shall we see what else the Prajna Ruler can do?"

Mercer looked to Bryce, clearly hoping for direction. Bryce studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"This isn't over, Knight," he said finally. "Not by a long shot."

"It never is," I agreed.

With a final glare, they backed toward the exit, neither willing to turn their back on me and the Prajna Ruler. I maintained my stance until they disappeared through the doorway.

Only when I was certain they were gone did I allow myself to breathe normally again. The Prajna Ruler's glow dimmed slightly, as if sensing the immediate danger had passed.

"That was unexpected," I murmured to the weapon. "But I appreciate the assistance."

The weapon pulsed once in my hand, almost like a response. I still had much to learn about its capabilities, but one thing was certain—it had just saved my life. And it had fundamentally changed how the Guild would approach me going forward.

I wasn't just a troublesome Martial Knight anymore. I was a Martial Knight with a Martial Saint weapon. And that made me something much more dangerous—a genuine threat.