Reincarnated With Three Unique Skills

"It's them!"

Seeing Sulman, Drago, and Eshter seated in the Imperial Spectator Hall, Myria clenched her delicate yet powerful hands into fists.

She stood in a secret corner of the stage, completely untraceable among the massive crowd.

Rage burned in her chest as she stared at the imposter and the supposed "friends" of her grandfather. Until yesterday, she had believed them to be kind and generous elders who had helped her grandfather ascend to the throne. But now, everything made sense—they were the ones who had ambushed him, murdered her grandmother, and stolen everything from her family.

They had taken away her emotions, her familial love, and manipulated them like mere pawns.

"Excuse me, lady. Are you okay?"

A young boy's voice suddenly broke through her thoughts. His bright, innocent eyes looked up at her with concern.

Myria quickly tried to suppress her anger and forced a smile as she looked down at him.

"I'm fine... Thank you, little one," she replied, attempting to sound gentle.

But her voice came out hoarse, and her expression, still twisted with suppressed fury, failed to match her words.

As a result, the boy's eyes widened in fear, and he immediately turned and ran into his mother's arms.

Seeing this, Myria sighed. "Hopefully, he is right. Otherwise, all these people could cease to exist..."

She gripped the hilt of the sword hidden at her waist, her expression turning serious. "It should be time by now. Everything is in place," she muttered internally, as she waited for the order to attack.

Her eyes were already locked onto the Law Enforcers guarding the nearby area.

"You are all mine to kill." Myria muttered coldly, her grip tightening around her sword.

"Wooo!"

"Yeahhh!
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Just then, the deafening cheers of the crowd erupted, growing wilder with anticipation. Myria turned her gaze toward the battlefield.

Inside the arena, her father, Emperor Vansing, made his entrance, stepping onto the grand stage. In his hand, he held the only Heaven-Grade weapon—the very one Morgana had entrusted to him, believing it would ensure the Heir's death.

But she was oblivious to the fact that this very weapon would soon be turned against her.

Myria's expression softened for a brief moment as she watched her father stand tall amidst the roaring spectators.

"Stay safe, Father," she whispered, her voice barely audible as it escaped her soft lips.

Emperor Vansing stood tall, gripping the Golden Sword for support.

His sharp eyes were serious, occasionally drifting toward Morgana's group. He struggled to contain his rage, though to the onlookers, it merely seemed like battle readiness.

"Go for victory, Your Highness! Show the Heir what Emperors are made of!"

"Haha! Teach that brat to respect his seniors! Does he really think a mere mark is enough to make him an Emperor?"

"Hmph… he's just a naive little kid."

Vansing didn't react to the foolish nobles barking their ignorance.

The Heir is a naive kid? The very thought was laughable.

He knew the truth.

The moment he tried to block Aengus' hand, he realized something terrifying—this young man wasn't just a prodigy. He was a monster in human clothing.

The memory still haunted him.

Even now, he wasn't sure if Nebula Dominators could match Aengus' sheer physical strength. Just how had he attained such a godly physique?

From what Vansing understood, such power shouldn't be possible for any Seeker of the Primal Realm.

But he wasn't worried in the slightest. In fact, this would only work in their favor.

Now that Aengus was on their side, he felt a newfound confidence in their ability to win.

Step!

Suddenly, everyone's heart shook.

A wave of absolute silence swept over the billions gathered, as the sound of footsteps filled the air, each step resonating with authority—beating against their very souls.

Step. Step. Step.

Their hearts pounded in sync with the footsteps, echoing through the deafening quiet.

All eyes turned toward a single corner.

Zytherion—the True Emperor—had finally made his appearance.

He was tall, his black hair fluttering in raging wind, and his eyes were cold and detached. His very presence exuding an untouchable supremacy. At his waist hung a peculiar black-and-white spear, its aura flickering with chaotic energy, as if it carried the primordial essence of creation and destruction.

It was the God-Weapon Aegis, which was now a Divine Grade Weapon after synthesizing with other weapons and materials from Primal Realm.

It wasn't just about his weapon.

The sheer scale of his presence made even the strongest Seekers breathless.

Their hearts pounded in awe and fear, overwhelmed by his regal and domineering aura.

The supporters of Emperor Vansing were completely silenced.

Those who had been mocking Aengus moments ago now found their throats dry, their words caught in their chests.

Even the most arrogant of nobles dared not utter another insult.

The sheer scale of his presence made even high-level Dominators tremble.

Awe.

Fear.

It didn't matter if one was friend or foe—his very existence commanded absolute submission.

Vansing, who had once seen Aengus' strength firsthand, felt a strange relief settle over him.

With this man leading them… victory might truly be possible.

With nonchalance, Aengus held the newly upgraded black-and-white spear in his hand.

Standing opposite Vansing, his gaze wasn't even on his opponent. Instead, his piercing eyes locked onto the Imperial Seats.

Morgana flinched slightly, feeling the weight of his sharp gaze.

"This brat..." she spat under her breath, but her eyes were soon drawn to the spear in his hands. A strange feeling washed over her as she sensed its raw radiance.

Turning to her allies, she asked, "Do any of you know what grade that weapon is?"

The Five Head Law Enforcers and the three unfamiliar elders inspected it carefully, but none could decipher its true nature.

"I don't know, Lady Morgana... Maybe a Heaven-Grade weapon?" Lars muttered, jealousy flickering in his eyes. "Surely, those old protectors gave it to him. Why else would he have something so precious?"

Even they didn't possess Heaven-Grade weapons, so the idea that it could be something even higher never crossed their minds.

It was said that even the mighty Blue Moon Empire and other ancient factions only had one or two such weapons.

Morgana scoffed. "Whatever. A Heaven-Grade weapon won't save him." Her eyes gleamed with malice as she gave her final command.

"Be prepared. Attack at my signal. The Heir and his allies... shouldn't be left alive today."