The Superior Rebirth: A Hero's Awakening

The Miracle

The scene played on as the two indomitable figures stood before each other. One stood below, gazing up with unflinching defiance, while the other held the higher ground, basking in its prideful advantage.

"Who the hell are you?" Julius demanded again, this time his tone sharpened with venom. His hand still pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen, blood seeping through his fingers.

Aleksander straightened, his cold and pride-soaked voice cutting through the air, his gaze calm but merciless. "I have no obligation to give my name to the weak."

"The weak?" Julius echoed, incredulous, his expression twisting in disbelief at such arrogance. "Child, do you think so highly of yourself? Do you even realize who stands before you?"

Aleksander's reply came colder still. "I couldn't care less about who you are. What matters is that you stand in the presence of power far beyond your reach. You should be honored to witness it."

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime sight."

Julius blinked, baffled for a heartbeat, then erupted in manic laughter. His hand tore through his hair as a sinister aura erupted from his frame, healing his wound in an instant. It was as though he had never been touched, his flesh mocking the fatal blow.

His laughter faded into words heavy with dark delight. "You speak as though you're a god standing before a mortal. But your presence..." His grin widened, and his aura pulsed, suffocating. "It tells every nerve and fiber in me to flee, to survive. It has been a very, very long time since my body has felt such a thing."

His eyes narrowed, voice thick with cruel amusement. "You aren't all talk, are you? I can taste the power buried beneath that arrogance. You even managed to catch me off guard, to rip through my natural defenses as though they were nothing."

He chuckled again, low and dangerous. "Forgive my rudeness. I should have introduced myself sooner."

His aura flared—a wave of devilish, crushing pressure—directed straight at Aleksander. Though his stance remained proud, the weight of it pressed against him, gnawing at his composure.

"My name," Julius said slowly, his smirk returning, "is Julius von Audrius. Grand Emperor of the Lithuanian Empire."

Aleksander's eyes widened, disbelief cracking through his stoic mask. "Julius von Audrius? That's impossible. There's no way you are who you claim. That man died ten thousand years ago."

"Oh, but it is true," Julius answered with a devilish gleam.

Aleksander's voice turned sharp with rejection. "Lies. A corpse of history cannot be standing before me, breathing, mocking. Do you take me for a fool?"

Julius tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Whether you believe me or not is meaningless. What matters is simple: I was brought back from the grave. And the one who dragged me from death into this forsaken world..." His lips curled. "Is none other than the devil in sheep's clothing—Percival Asford."

The name struck Aleksander like a blade to the gut. His composure faltered, eyes widening at the revelation. His uncle—Percival—had dared to tamper with the dead? To unleash the nightmare of creation itself?

Julius went on, feigning absentmindedness, as though savoring Aleksander's shock. "My memory is hazy, I'll admit... ah, yes. That cunning bastard Percival boasted that he slaughtered his own brother. Sacrificed his own blood—his heart—to fuel the dark spell that summoned me."

His grin split wider. "To resurrect a condemned soul, one must give up someone they truly love. Such a grand and cruel bargain. Isn't it hilarious?"

Aleksander froze, his stoic mask cracking. If Julius spoke truth, if Percival had truly sacrificed his father—his blood—then there was no forgiveness, no restraint. His body trembled, rage seething beneath his calm exterior, every muscle screaming to destroy his uncle with his bare hands.