Chapter 95

Several weeks later, Dario stood in his training field with Lord Wilson. His firm and practiced hand gripping the hilt of his sword. He moved through his routine, each swing of the sword cutting through the air with a sharp, metallic hiss.

Sweat trickled down his face from his brows with each strike. And rage fueled his focus, sharpening his reflexes and honing his combat skills to a razor’s edge.

Dario’s movements now flowed with a fluid grace, a result of the countless hours he had spent perfecting his techniques. His muscles were tense and flexed with each strike, the rhythm of his breathing also steady and controlled.

Everyday for the past weeks, Dario had invested most of himself in his journey of becoming a powerful god-of-war. He had read books, solved strategic and critical battle problems, practiced combat to the fullest and many more, with Lord Wilson by his side.

Alongside, he had been brewing with rage ever since he found out about his father’s association with the Rav