Floating Island - Triple S Talent

Argh…!

Lein let out a loud cry, his body trembling under the overwhelming pressure. Every buff he had was already activated—his Divine Domain Sword enveloped his body, the 100% attribute boost from his title was in effect, and he had even used various strength-enhancing items. Yet, despite giving it his all, he still couldn't take another step forward.

Only five meters remained, but it felt like an insurmountable chasm.

"Damn it... Why is this so strong?" Lein muttered through gritted teeth. His jaw clenched, and sweat poured down his forehead. A sharp frustration stabbed at his heart—a rare feeling of helplessness he seldom experienced.

Realizing that forcing his way forward was pointless, Lein took a deep breath and gradually released all his active skills. The brilliant aura surrounding him faded, leaving him feeling lighter but slightly fatigued. He stepped back, distancing himself from the glowing sphere, then stood still atop the rough stones, adjusting his body's rhythm.

"I need that man's help," he muttered casually, though his eyes remained filled with tension.

His thoughts drifted to his clone, who was still dealing with Dragnar. However, when he checked on the clone's status, he saw something that made him frown—Dragnar still hadn't spoken.

Lein let out a quiet scoff. At first, he had planned to be civil, to have a conversation as fellow rulers. There were many things he wanted to ask about ascending to the King stage. But it seemed Dragnar would only open his mouth if ordered directly.

"Fine, if that's how he wants to play it..."

Lein didn't waste any more time. With a swift movement, he shot toward the exit of the transparent dome. The process was the same as when he entered—opening the second door, passing through the transition area, then the first door opened, revealing the outside world.

As Lein stepped out, he was immediately greeted by Zanthor, who was still standing in his previous spot. The man's eyes widened upon seeing Lein emerge.

"Elder Lein… you're already out?" he asked, his expression difficult to decipher.

Lein glanced at him. "What's wrong?"

Zanthor hesitated for a moment before finally saying, "Isn't that too fast, Elder Lein?" His face was full of confusion, as if he had just witnessed something absurd.

Now it was Lein's turn to frown. "Usually… how long do people spend absorbing the laws?" he asked, curious about his reaction.

Zanthor let out a small sigh before explaining, "The speed at which someone absorbs the essence of laws depends on the quality of their soul and element, Elder Lein."

He paused briefly, ensuring Lein was paying attention, then continued, "The higher the quality of one's soul and element, the faster the absorption."

Lein fell silent for a moment. His brow raised slightly as his mind started calculating. His soul and element were both high-quality, yet even then, it would take him 17 years to master a basic law.

"...Then what about those with lower-quality souls?" he thought. In that instant, he realized just how terrifyingly long the journey was for ordinary people to reach the King stage.

"Alright, you've been a great help. What do you want?" Lein said casually.

He had noticed from the start that Zanthor had an underlying motive. It wasn't hard to guess—someone of lower status often sought protection or benefits from those stronger. And as a King-level ruler, Lein saw no harm in being a bit generous this time.

Zanthor, who had only harbored a faint hope, suddenly widened his eyes. His lips parted slightly in shock before quickly shifting into an expression of joy he could barely contain.

"Thank you for your blessing, Elder Lein!" he said, his tone filled with gratitude.

However, not long after his initial excitement, his expression changed slightly. A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes, as if he feared his request might be too much.

"I want... you to help my family," he said cautiously, his voice carrying an undertone of apprehension.

Lein raised an eyebrow. "Explain," he said, still in a relaxed tone, but his gaze sharpened as he looked at Zanthor, signaling that he was willing to listen.

Zanthor wasted no time. He took a deep breath and began explaining with enthusiasm, as though finally unburdening himself of a long-held weight.

"I am the firstborn of my family. Long ago, my family sold everything we had so I could reach the Grandmaster level and earn a chance to enter the Invictus Sect," he said, his voice filled with pride and nostalgia.

However, his tone soon changed. A hint of tension laced his words.

"During the entrance examination in my village, I placed first. But because of that, the village chief's son lost and failed to qualify for the Invictus Sect," he continued, his voice trembling slightly.

Lein remained silent, listening intently.

"I didn't cheat. I followed all the procedures set by the examiners. But since his son was eliminated and the quota was full, the village chief bore a grudge against my family," Zanthor's voice grew quieter, yet his emotions became more palpable.

Lein could see his clenched fists tighten.

"At the time, the village chief's son was also a Grandmaster like me, so he couldn't do anything. But after thousands of years... he finally reached the King stage. And now, he's back, carrying an old grudge," Zanthor said, his eyes clouded with a mix of regret and determination.

Lein gave a slow nod. From his perspective, the core issue was simple. Zanthor's family was too weak to withstand the consequences of a stronger enemy. And in this world, weakness was an open invitation to destruction.

"Forget about it, don't worry," Lein said nonchalantly. "Today, luck is on your side."

Zanthor looked at him, hope beginning to flicker in his eyes.

"When will they arrive? And how far is your family's village?" Lein asked, his voice calm yet resolute.

"They'll arrive in two weeks, Elder Lein," Zanthor replied, newfound excitement in his tone. "If we use a space vessel, the journey will take two days. But if we teleport to the nearest city, we can get there in just three hours," he added quickly, as if afraid Lein would change his mind.

Lein nodded. "Alright… then, how strong are they?"

Zanthor swallowed hard before answering. "The village chief's son is now a Grandmaster Tier-7. And... he's coming with his lover, who is a King-level ruler."

Lein narrowed his eyes, contemplating the information for a moment.

"Hmm..." he murmured before finally saying lightly, "Alright. Come find me a day before they arrive, and I'll see what I can do."

Zanthor's eyes widened. He had expected Lein to refuse or demand a hefty price. But no—the answer came effortlessly, as if this matter required little thought from Lein.

His heart trembled. He could hardly believe someone was truly willing to help him—let alone solve his family's crisis.

Without hesitation, he immediately fell to his knees, his body shaking with emotion. "Thank you, Elder Lein! I owe you my life!" he cried out, his voice quivering with gratitude and newfound hope. His words echoed throughout the manifestation zone, as if carving an oath into the air.

But no reply came.