Chapter 109 (+25 Bonus)

The old man, Ivan Irwin, dismissed Dustin as a threat. As a sovereign-grade fighter in Lord Barbenheim's service, he considered himself superior to countless others. Dustin's youth, he reasoned, precluded him from possessing comparable strength. Therefore, when Dustin attacked, Ivan reacted calmly, simply pushing his palm forward, believing this sufficient to break Dustin's bones.

Their hands collided. A tremendous force met Ivan's, overwhelming and unstoppable. His face contorted; he staggered back, crashing through a door. He tasted blood, suppressing the urge to cough. Fear flickered in his eyes as he stared at Dustin in disbelief. Decades of training had earned him his sovereign-grade status, yet he was losing to this young man.

Lord Barbenheim's expression mirrored Ivan's shock. Dustin had forced a sovereign-grade fighter to retreat—proving he possessed the same, if not superior, strength. Barbenheim's face hardened. Dustin's youth and mastery were astonishing.

"Mr. Irwin, you must give it your all," Lord Barbenheim said gravely.

"Don't worry, Your Highness," Ivan shouted. "I was careless, using only half my strength. I'll kill him now—"

But before he could finish, Dustin attacked again, charging toward the broken door. Their fight moved to the courtyard.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Loud crashes echoed from the courtyard, signaling the intensity of the fight. Elisa wanted to watch, but Amara stopped her.

"Search the villa for what Father left behind," Amara commanded. "We must protect the Wyatt family!"

The sisters nodded, splitting up to search. They had no interest in watching Dustin fight; believing him weak, they expected his demise. But in the courtyard, Ivan was panting, pathetic and bleeding, barely defending himself against Dustin's relentless attacks. Each blow forced him to use every ounce of strength to dodge or defend. Within three moves, Ivan was exhausted, retreating desperately.

How did he become so strong? Ivan wondered, shocked by Dustin's monstrous talent and overwhelming power.

Bam!

Another blow sent Ivan to one knee, coughing up blood. He clutched his chest, utterly outmatched. A sovereign-grade fighter, crushed.

"What martial art are you using?!" Ivan demanded.

"A technique to kill you," Dustin replied coldly, then swiftly moved past the fallen man.

Ivan bled profusely, collapsing and dying. His final moments were filled with disbelief at the terrifying strength of his young opponent.

Dustin turned to Lord Barbenheim.