All his life, Arthur had been hailed as the strongest wherever he went.
He was the one who never backed down from a challenge, never refused to give everything he had when difficulty stood before him.
He had honed his skills across years of blood and discipline, each passing season sharpening him further, because he had always known what responsibilities awaited him at the end of that road.
Arthur had lived a life rich with victory. Defeat, true defeat, had visited him only once; the day he crossed paths with a general-ranked demon and was forced to retreat simply to survive.
But even that he had filed away not as failure, but as a lesson in preparation and inexperience. With the right support at his back, he would have broken that creature too.
That was not arrogance. That was record.
Time and again, his grit and raw strength had placed him a rank above everyone else in every room, every hall, every battlefield he had ever walked into.
Above everyone else.
He was Arthur.
