Martial Era: Starting With The Strongest Talent-Chapter 65: The Scape Goat

The Acolyte holding the reading device looked up at Vanessa, as hesitation flickered across his face.

"Ma’am," he said carefully, "the rift is giving off unstable readings."

He paused, as his fingers tightened around the device.

"There’s a high chance it might open before a week passes."

Vanessa fell silent.

Normally, when a rift entered its mutating phase, it sealed itself for a full week, no entry or interference.

That rule had been absolute.

But this one...

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed slightly.

It must be because of how it was formed.

Mutant rifts were supposed to be natural phenomena. This one wasn’t. It had been forced, tampered with by human hands. It wasn’t surprising that it refused to follow established standards.

"Did you find anything else?"

The Acolyte hesitated.

"Well?" Vanessa pressed.

"I’m... not certain," he admitted. "It could be an error on my part, but the mutation isn’t following regular patterns."

Vanessa frowned.

"Explain."

The Acolyte turned the device toward her.

Displayed on the screen was a fluctuating graph, numbers from 1 to 9 lined the side, while a jagged line rose and fell erratically, almost like an ECG.

"Normally," he said, "the readings should climb from level 3 to 4, then plateau at four while the rift completes its mutation."

Vanessa nodded. That much she knew. The numbers indicated the target level of the rift.

"But these readings..." he continued, voice tightening. "They’ve been acting haywire. Sometimes they spike to 5 or even 6, before dropping back down."

Vanessa’s eyes widened.

"Does that mean the rift might mutate into a level five or six rift?" she asked grimly.

The Acolyte shook his head.

"That is precisely the problem; I can’t be sure. Our experience is limited to first-generation mutant rifts."

Vanessa exhaled slowly.

"All right," she said. "Keep analyzing it. Try to find out as much as you can."

"Yes, ma’am."

She turned and walked away, her expression hardening with every step.

I need to contact the higher-ups.

It was clear now.

They had a catastrophe on their hands.

****

Adam finally emerged from the swamp.

The moment he stepped onto firmer ground, he felt it.

Countless gazes locked onto him.

He didn’t need instinct to tell him, he could see it. Clan heirs stood scattered around the perimeter, their eyes fixed on him with naked hostility. Glares sharp enough to cut.

Adam was surprised, but not for the reason one might expect.

He wasn’t shocked that they were staring at him.

What shocked him was that they were still here.

I thought they’d have left the sector by now, with their tails tucked between their legs.

Faint disbelief flickered through his mind at the thought.

He hadn’t expected to see a single heir lingering around after everything that had happened.

Then a thought crossed his mind.

Are they still waiting for the water lily?

Adam almost laughed.

He shook his head slowly.

That would be stupid.

By now, it should have been obvious to anyone with two functioning brain cells that the so-called water lily was a scam. The explosion. The chaos. The mutating rift. All of it screamed deception.

Adam knew the heirs were arrogant.

He knew many of them were foolish.

But he didn’t believe they were that foolish.

Either way, he didn’t care.

Whether they stayed or left had nothing to do with him. He planned to ignore them and walk right past.

Until someone stepped directly into his path.

Adam stopped.

Abigail and Dickson, who stood off to the side, immediately recognized the person who had blocked him.

Dickson’s eyes narrowed.

"Isn’t that the idiot from earlier?"

Abigail didn’t respond. She simply watched.

The heir standing before Adam was the same one who had ambushed them in the swamp.

Compared to him, Adam looked rough, armor damaged, body marked with grime and dried blood.

And yet.

That only made his presence more oppressive.

Adam lifted his gaze, eyes cold and flat.

"Get out of my way."

His voice was calm.

But the threat behind it was unmistakable.

The heir didn’t budge.

If anything, his expression darkened further.

Right now, he was beyond pissed.

His followers closed in behind him, forming a loose semicircle that hemmed Adam in. The air grew tense, heavy with poorly restrained hostility.

Sebastian lifted his chin, eyes burning.

"I’ll say this once," he said coldly. "And I won’t repeat myself."

Adam was already preparing to move. He didn’t have time for this kind of nonsense.

Then Sebastian spoke again.

"Tell your sugar mommy to let us out."

Adam froze.

For a split second, his thoughts stalled.

Sugar mommy?

Around them, the heirs who had been glaring earlier visibly relaxed. Some even looked pleased.

One of them scoffed.

"Good. Sebastian can handle it."

Others nodded subtly. They had wanted to question Adam themselves, but fear had held them back.

They’d seen his speed before they entered the incursion. They knew none of them would be able to get close to him, let alone pressure him.

Sebastian was the perfect scapegoat.

Seeing Adam silent, Sebastian smirked.

"What? Have you become Deaf all of a sudden?" he sneered.

"Didn’t you hear me? Tell your sug—"

"It’s obvious that you’re incapable of understanding a simple instruction." Adam said flatly, cutting him off.

Sebastian went quiet, as the smile on his face faltered.

"But, I’ll humor you just this once. Explain what you meant by that."

His eyes sharpened.

"And it better be a good joke."

A massive killing intent slammed outward.

Unlike before, when Adam had restrained himself, this time there was no filter.

The pressure hit Sebastian head-on.

His breath caught. His pupils shrank. His body staggered back involuntarily, boots scraping against the ground as if the earth itself had rejected him.

The surrounding heirs stiffened, as the air went deathly still.

At that moment, the other heirs were silently grateful they hadn’t stepped forward.

Compared to Sebastian, who was bearing the full weight of Adam’s killing intent, they had escaped a disaster.

Even so, disbelief rippled through them.

Killing intent this thick... from someone so young?

Killing intent wasn’t something that could be faked. It was forged through slaughter and deliberately repeated killing.

No matter how talented someone was, age usually placed a hard limit on how dense that pressure could become.

So it didn’t make sense.

And yet, it was real.

Adam’s gaze remained fixed on Sebastian as he spoke again, his tone flat.

"Well?"

Sebastian was drenched in sweat.

His legs trembled, muscles locked tight as if nailed to the ground. Every breath felt heavy, as though the air itself resisted entering his lungs.

I thought he was injured, Sebastian thought desperately.

But looking at Adam now, there was no sign of weakness.

None at all.

Sebastian glanced at his followers, hoping, foolishly, that one of them might act.

They didn’t.

Their eyes avoided his and their bodies were rigid with fear.

Useless.

Sebastian swallowed hard, then forced himself to straighten. Drawing in a slow, controlled breath, he spoke.

"We can’t leave the sector."

The words had barely left his mouth when the pressure vanished.

Just like that.

****

[Author’s Note]

There is a reason for the intensity of Adam’s killing intent; it will be explained in a future Chapter.

Thank you for reading!