Return of the Youngest Son with SSS-Rank Talent-Chapter 196: They say the blood of a saint is golden

In the strange forest, where the trees had trunks so jet black that they seemed to absorb the light, and crystalline leaves the color of blood, the rays of the fictitious sun filtered down from the artificial sky. Their glow fell on the ground with reddish flashes that danced among the shadows, staining the grass and rocks with crimson hues.

The grass, a beautiful bright cyan color, swayed slowly in the gentle breeze that swept through the place. Each movement produced a slight tinkling sound, as if the leaves emitted an ethereal echo when they brushed against each other.

In the surrounding area, life was as fascinating as it was disturbing. Among the bushes, rabbits with dog heads could be seen, creatures that sniffed the air with wild curiosity. In the highest branches, birds with human bodies and chicken heads emitted strange squawks, as if trying to imitate human words.

The entire forest seemed like a realm where nature had been rewritten by a disturbed mind, a place where beauty and deformity coexisted without conflict.

All the beings that inhabited this inheritance were not mere creatures, but living materials, each with intrinsic value. Their organs, feathers, bones, and essences could be used to refine Zu or create potions.

Advancing through that strange forest. Through it, one could see the figure of a young man with long black hair, so dark that it reflected the light like a starry sky on the deepest night.

His body was well-defined, with firm muscles, not overly prominent but full of contained strength. His face, once ordinary, had changed: his features had become finer, more serene, endowed with a dangerous elegance that attracted attention. He wore a white priest’s robe, now completely stained with black blood.

That young man was none other than Kael Medici.

He had advanced after defeating the two guardian creatures, the first step after entering the Rank 4 Heresy. In his past life, he had never heard of this inheritance, so he did not know its exact nature or the method to complete it.

But that didn’t bother him in the least.

Kael was not someone who feared the unknown. Uncertainty, for him, was fertile ground for understanding.

He knew that rank 4 inheritances were extremely special. They weren’t simply tests or challenges, but sanctuaries of demigods. In simpler terms, they were like inner worlds: spaces that preserved the will, memories, and laws that a transcendent being had left behind.

However, they were more than that.

Each inheritance had its own purpose, its own dormant consciousness. Entering one was like being swallowed up by the memory of a forgotten demigod.

Kael looked up at the dark trees surrounding him. The air was thick, heavy, charged with energy.

So he continued on, walking calmly with an indifferent expression.

...

Not long after advancing through the forest and without encountering any living creature to attack him, Kael continued walking in silence.

Even so, he stood still when he sensed a presence nearby. He said nothing; he remained motionless, waiting for whoever it was to reveal themselves.

It didn’t take long. A man emerged from the shadows of the trees, wrapped in a black priest’s robe. A broad smile spread across his face, a grin too wide to be mere pleasure: there was a mixture of euphoria and contained madness in it.

"But this isn’t the famous Santo Rasen everyone’s talking about now, is it?" said the man, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "What a great opportunity has come my way; I’ll be able to kill a saint."

He laughed, a high-pitched sound that echoed among the tree trunks as if celebrating a joke. His eyes sparkled with a dangerous gleam, and the laughter seemed to feed on the very possibility of bloodshed.

Kael watched him without changing his posture. His breathing was slow, his eyes empty of emotion. There was no anger or fear in his gaze, only cold curiosity.

The man in front of him pulled a black dagger from his robe. The blade, thin and curved, emitted a faint violet glow, as if absorbing the light from the surroundings. His voice, harsh and satisfied, broke the silence between them.

"So? How do you want to die?" He twirled the dagger between his fingers with sickening dexterity. "A slit across the throat? A stab through the heart? Or would you prefer to die slowly, in agony?"

He looked up, a twisted smile distorting his face. As he spoke, he ran his tongue along the blade of the weapon, leaving a dark trail on the metal. "I want to see you bleed... They say the blood of a saint is golden. I wonder if the stories are true."

For a moment, silence reigned once more. Only the distant sound of the wind crashing against the branches could be heard.

Kael continued to stare at him. Not a single muscle in his face moved. The indifference in his eyes made the air seem heavier.

With a calm gesture, he drew the coin sword. The faint metallic clink echoed in the stillness, a brief sound but so clear that it seemed to tear the space between them.

His gaze then hardened. He glared at the man, a look that weighed more than any threat.

Kael took the initiative and lunged forward. The movement was direct, without warning. The man barely had time to raise his daggers to block the first attack; the clash of metal resonated with a sharp echo that spread throughout the area.

Kael’s sword was fast, almost imperceptible. Each movement followed an invisible logic, a pattern built from experience, instinct, and calculation. There was no waste, no anger or emotion, only pure efficiency. Each strike aimed at a vital point.

The man immediately stepped back, turning on his heels to deflect the next attack and counter with a quick downward slash. Kael dodged it with an agile movement, his body flowing like a shadow between the flashes of steel.

The daggers moved again, fast, without pause. The enemy launched a series of quick, unhesitating cuts, seeking to break Kael’s defense. However, he deflected them all, his sword intercepting the attacks with surgical precision.

The metallic sound repeated itself over and over, marking a steady rhythm, like a war drum.

Then, the enemy’s speed increased dramatically. His body blurred, and the daggers became a blur of steel, attacking from every possible angle. The sequence was fierce, continuous, relentless.

The lethal choreography enveloped Kael, forcing him to retreat step by step. The blades whistled inches from his face; every mistake, no matter how small, would mean death. But Kael did not falter. Despite the pressure, his breathing remained steady, his gaze fixed, his movements precise.

Every block, every deflection, every counterattack was executed with almost superhuman precision. Where anyone else would have been overwhelmed by the ferocity of their opponent, Kael resisted, as if the chaos of combat existed within a perfectly controlled mind.

The two combatants moved like shadows in the gloom of the strange forest. The trees, with their black bark and reddish leaves, were silent witnesses to the confrontation. The air was thick with a dense, almost suffocating energy, while the metallic sound of clashing weapons echoed among the trunks.

Kael moved with unnatural calm. Every step, every turn, every breath seemed carefully measured.

He took advantage of every gap, every tiny opening, to counter the attacks of the man facing him. It was not a chaotic duel, but a precise and deadly dance where every mistake could decide the outcome.

The opponent, a man covered in a dark cloak, jumped back with an agile leap. Kael’s pressure was constant, suffocating, and his eyes showed slight irritation.

Then, without saying a word, he adopted a more aggressive stance. His muscles tensed and, in an instant, he lunged forward with overwhelming force.

The twin blades he wielded glowed with a dark purple light, leaving trails like poisonous lightning in the air.

Kael sensed the change in the enemy’s mana flow. He didn’t need to think; his body reacted with inhuman efficiency. He swung his sword, deflecting one of the blades with a sharp blow, while spinning fluidly to dodge the second.

Even so, the speed of the attack was too high. The blade grazed his side, tearing his clothes and leaving a shallow wound. Blood spurted out in a thin crimson line.

Kael showed no reaction. His expression remained calm, and his breathing steady. The slight pain was only confirmation: the enemy was strong, but not invincible.

With the same controlled rhythm, Kael adjusted the position of his feet on the damp ground. The wound burned, but his eyes shone with a coldness greater than ever.

The next exchange would decide who would dominate the hunt... and who would be hunted.

The enemy advanced again, throwing a downward slash with all his strength. The purple blade roared through the air.

Kael took a single step forward. His sword moved without a sound. Just one clean movement, so fast that the human eye couldn’t follow it.

A moment later, the man’s body froze. His attack was left halfway, his expression frozen in disbelief.

A faint sound of air being cut was the only thing that broke the silence as a thin line appeared on his neck.

The man tried to speak, but only a trickle of blood escaped from his mouth. His body collapsed silently, the damp earth cushioning his fall.