Chapter 584: Knight of the Wind
—FWOOOSH!
The moment Lucavion raised his blade, the air around him shifted. It wasn't just the pressure of his presence—it was something deeper, something celestial.
Starlight mana erupted from his body in a luminous cascade, flooding the battlefield with its brilliance. The air warped, space itself bending as his core ignited.
Aldric's crimson eyes gleamed behind his midnight helm, his smirk widening ever so slightly.
"Knight of the Wind."
Lucavion's voice was steady, cold.
Aldric tilted his head, almost amused.
"Oh… is that the name you have given to me?"
Lucavion didn't answer.
He simply moved.
—BOOM!
One instant, he was standing—
The next—
He was already there.
Aldric barely had time to register the shift before—
—SHRING!
Lucavion's estoc descended, a streak of pure devastation. His body blurred as the celestial force of his core ignited—
「Void Starfall Blade, Starsurge.」
A single stroke—swift, absolute. The air trembled under its might. The night sky above them seemed to distort, stars flickering unnaturally as though drawn into the blade itself.
Aldric's instincts screamed. His spear flashed up—
—CLAAAANG!
Their weapons met in a catastrophic collision.
The rooftop beneath them shattered. The sheer force of impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, buildings groaning as windows exploded into shards. The stone cracked beneath Aldric's feet, yet—
He didn't break.
The wind around him screamed, coiling, twisting—
His counterattack came instantly.
「Stormpiercer: Tempest Thrust.」
His spear blurred, a silver streak cutting through the chaos. The air itself bent, compressed into a singular, piercing force.
Lucavion vanished.
No—
—He had already dodged.
His foot barely touched the ground before he pivoted, his blade carving a streak of white light through the night.
Aldric's grin widened beneath his helm.
This—this—
Was getting interesting.
—SWOOSH!
Wind exploded from his form, a violent storm twisting into existence. The force lifted loose debris into the air, turning shattered stone into lethal projectiles.
Lucavion didn't hesitate.
—THOOM!
He tore through the storm, his starlight mana devouring the turbulence as he surged forward. His estoc struck again—
But Aldric had already moved.
Their weapons clashed in rapid succession—
—CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Each impact sent sparks flying. Each strike shattered the air between them.
They weren't just fighting.
They were unraveling the battlefield.
Lucavion twisted mid-air, using the momentum of Aldric's last parry to redirect his blade. A downward stroke—fast, relentless—
Aldric parried with a flick of his spear, his footwork seamless as he flowed into another attack—
—WHOOOSH!
Lucavion barely had time to twist his body, the spear grazing past his ribs, slicing clean through his coat. Blood spattered against the cracked stone.
But he was already retaliating.
He lunged—faster, sharper—his estoc striking like a comet falling from the heavens.
Aldric grinned.
「Stormpiercer: Gale Rend.」
He twisted.
His spear came down in a brutal arc, wreathed in razor-thin wind.
Lucavion's eyes narrowed.
He met the attack head-on.
—CRASH!
The impact sent another shockwave tearing through the cityscape, wind and starlight colliding in a whirlwind of destruction.
Lucavion gritted his teeth.
Aldric was powerful. Too powerful.
His wind affinity wasn't just an enhancement—it was an extension of his instincts. His movements weren't just fast; they were fluid, adaptive, natural.
But Lucavion—
Lucavion had spent his entire life fighting against forces greater than himself.
And he was not going to lose.
—FWOOOOOM!
Lucavion's mana surged, void-starlight radiating in waves from his core. His estoc burned with celestial brilliance, distorting the very air around him.
Aldric's crimson gaze gleamed behind his dark helm, the wind twisting around his form in a furious storm.
"You fight well," Aldric mused, his voice laced with amusement. "But—"
His spear blurred.
—BOOOM!
A single thrust. Not just fast—instantaneous.
Lucavion barely reacted in time.
—SWOOSH!
He pivoted, the spear's tip slicing through his coat, grazing his ribs. A thin line of red bloomed across his side, pain flaring through his nerves.
That one almost ran me through.
But he didn't slow.
Instead, his grin widened.
"You talk too much."
Lucavion exhaled, releasing all hesitation.
—His movements shifted.
The wildness of his style, the sharp, unpredictable footwork—they refined.
Aldric sensed it immediately.
A shift. A transition.
The boy who had once fought recklessly was now wielding discipline.
And that was far more dangerous.
Lucavion lifted his estoc.
—Mana erupted.
「Void Starfall Blade: Celestial Spiral」
Starlight burst forth, spiraling around him, warping gravity itself. His body became weightless, his next step impossible to track.
Then—
—FWOOOSH!
He disappeared.
Aldric's instincts flared. He pivoted—
Too late.
Lucavion was already above him.
His estoc descended, a streak of void-laced light aimed at the exposed joint in Aldric's armor—
—CLANG!
Aldric barely twisted his spear up in time, deflecting the fatal strike.
But Lucavion wasn't done.
The moment their weapons met—he flowed into his next technique.
「Void Starfall Blade: Eclipse Requiem」
—BOOOOOM!
The air imploded.
Lucavion's blade split into dozens of afterimages, a constellation of lethal strikes raining down at once.
Aldric's expression shifted.
—He was forced onto the defensive.
—CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Each strike chipped away at him. His wind armor crackled, flickering with instability.
Lucavion's eyes gleamed.
He saw the opening.
—And took it.
His blade pierced forward.
—SHNK!
Aldric grunted.
The estoc pierced through the gap in his pauldron, slicing deep into his shoulder.
A spatter of blood hit the ground.
For the first time—
Aldric was injured.
Lucavion's smirk sharpened.
"Looks like you're not untouchable after all."
Aldric exhaled, staring at the wound.
Then—
He laughed.
Low. Amused.
"Not bad."
His grip on his spear tightened.
—FWOOOOOSH!
A sudden burst of wind exploded outward.
Lucavion's instincts screamed—
But it was too late.
—THWACK!
Aldric's knee slammed into his ribs.
Pain shot through his body, his breath escaping in a sharp exhale.
—SWOOSH!
Before he could recover—
Aldric's spear lashed out.
Lucavion barely raised his estoc in time—
—CLAAAANG!
The force sent him flying backward.
His body crashed against the stone rooftop, skidding until he came to a stop. His breath came ragged, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Pain.
But—
Lucavion only grinned.
His fingers curled around the hilt of his estoc.
Lucavion exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. His ribs ached where Aldric's knee had landed, his muscles screaming from the relentless pace of the battle. Yet none of that mattered.
Because now—
He saw it.
The air around Aldric shifted.
No—
It wasn't just the air.
It was the wind itself.
For the first time, the storm surrounding Aldric wasn't just raw elemental energy—it was controlled. Refined.
Lucavion's pupils constricted.
The swirling mana around Aldric's body wasn't just an extension of his attacks anymore. It was a part of him.
He's finally using it.
Aura Body.
The very technique that marked the difference between 5-star and 6-star.
Lucavion had read about it, studied the theory behind it—but he had never fought someone who truly used it.
The reason?
Because so few people ever reached this stage.
—3-star meant a knight could materialize mana, projecting their energy outward.
—4-star introduced intent, allowing their will to shape how mana flowed through their techniques.
—But 6-star?
That was different.
That was one of the most important and most difficult breakthroughs.
Because at 6-star, a knight could achieve something that transcended mere skill.
They could forge an Aura Body.
A compressed, refined form of mana—one that merged with their very being.
Different from the normal mana that one would use to coat their bodies.
It augmented them, reinforced them, made them something more than human.
And now—Aldric stood before him, wrapped in it.
Lucavion clenched his jaw, his grip on his estoc tightening.
None of his previous opponents had ever used this technique. Not even those who were supposedly stronger than him.
Yet Aldric—
Aldric was using it now.
The wind howled as the aura around Aldric settled into his body, the storm condensing into something sharper. More lethal.
Then—
Aldric exhaled, rolling his shoulder. His voice came low, amused.
"You have made me use it."
His crimson eyes gleamed beneath his dark helm.
"You are not bad."
Lucavion breathed in.
A slow inhale. A steadying moment.
"…That so?"
His black eyes gleamed with something wild.
Something untamed.
Chapter 585: Knight of the Wind (2)
Aldric's smirk deepened, his blood-red eyes gleaming behind the shadows of his helm.
"You are going to die now."
His words weren't spoken with cruelty, nor arrogance—only certainty.
Then—
—FWOOOSH!
He vanished.
A blur of black wind and killing intent.
Lucavion's pupils constricted—too fast.
The storm surged, a hurricane of force closing in on him from all directions. The weight of Aldric's presence drowned the battlefield, his spear tearing through the air like a bolt of destruction.
Lucavion barely had time to react.
The spear was already there.
Aimed straight for his heart.
DEATH.
It should have been instant.
But—
—Something clicked.
The edge of the abyss.
Lucavion stood on it.
Teetering between life and death.
And when he was pushed to this limit—
His true talent awakened.
His instincts sharpened beyond thought, his body reacting before his mind could process the danger.
His blade moved.
—FWOOOM!
The world warped.
A ripple of pure void expanded from his estoc, devouring the wind mana surrounding Aldric's attack.
The storm vanished.
Aldric's spear, once a force of absolute destruction—
Lost its strength.
—CLANG!
Lucavion's blade twisted, catching the now weakened spear with effortless grace. The impact, which should have shattered him, was instead redirected.
The technique—
It had no name.
It was something he had glimpsed before.
The moment he fought the Kraken.
The instant he had grasped 'Void.'
Now, it manifested in full.
「Void Starfall Blade: Astral Consumption」
The void around his estoc expanded, twisting into a spiral of pure, devouring force.
He twirled his blade, the starlight mana flowing like silk, redirecting Aldric's strike with elegant ease.
—Aldric's balance shifted.
For the first time, his footing was compromised.
Lucavion's black eyes gleamed.
A perfect moment.
He moved.
His estoc—twisting like a comet, aimed straight for Aldric's chest.
A fatal thrust.
—FWOOOSH!
But Aldric wasn't done.
His aura body pulsed, and with a sudden burst of wind, he wrenched his spear back—forcing space itself to pull him away.
—BOOM!
A counterstrike.
Aldric reversed the momentum.
His spear, still spinning from the deflection, twisted in his grip—a masterful recovery.
Then—
He dove forward.
Their weapons collided.
—CLAAAANG!
Lucavion barely had time to adjust—
Aldric had recovered too fast.
The moment his spear clashed with Lucavion's estoc, he unleashed his true power.
A technique wielded only by those who had reached the 6-star realm.
⚡ BOOOOOM! ⚡
The very sky screamed as Aldric unleashed his full strength.
Wind, compressed to the point of destruction, swallowed the battlefield.
Lucavion barely had time to react.
Aldric's spear blurred—
⚡ 「Stormpiercer: Sky Tyrant's Judgment」 ⚡
A single thrust.
But it was unstoppable.
Lucavion's instincts flared—move!
—FWOOOSH!
He twisted his body—but not fast enough.
—SHNK!
Pain erupted from his side.
The spear tore through his coat, piercing deep into his flesh.
Blood spilled.
Lucavion's body convulsed from the force, his breath catching in his throat. He felt the full weight of 6-star mana pressing into his bones—an overwhelming, crushing force that burned through his veins like a storm.
Too strong.
His knees wavered.
He took one step back.
Then—
Aldric appeared before him instantly.
His speed was inhuman.
Lucavion's body barely had time to recover, barely had time to breathe—
Before Aldric's spear was already descending.
Lucavion's pupils constricted.
This—this was death.
—Then.
—FWOOOOOOM!
Something ignited in his palm.
—BLACK FLAMES.
Pitch-black fire surged from his fingertips, swallowing the very air around them.
Aldric's crimson eyes widened.
—WHAT?!
The flames did not burn.
They devoured.
「Flame of Equinox: Wave of Death」
The black fire rushed outward in a violent wave, engulfing Aldric's spear—
And then—it consumed his mana.
Aldric's entire body jerked backward as the flames devoured his storm energy, stripping the wind away from his technique like peeling layers from his own existence.
His instincts screamed—danger.
This shouldn't be a threat.
Lucavion was weaker. His mana wasn't at the level of a 6-star.
And yet—
Aldric felt it.
A sensation he had not felt in years.
Something beyond logic.
Something primordial.
The flames did not simply oppose him—they erased his presence.
Aldric's mind raced.
—What… is this?
His spear trembled in his grasp. The mana he had infused into it vanished—devoured in an instant.
Aldric's mind raced.
This didn't make sense.
The first energy, the pitch-black starlight—that was void. He had seen it, fought against it. A rare affinity, but explainable.
But this?
These pitch-black flames weren't void. They weren't destruction.
They were something else.
And for the first time in years—Aldric felt the cold grip of uncertainty.
'An artifact?'
That was the only explanation.
No knight, no warrior, no human could wield two conflicting forces within a single core.
And yet—Lucavion stood before him, bleeding, breathing, alive.
Then—
—SHNK!
Lucavion coughed blood—then vanished.
Before Aldric could even process it—
—Lucavion was already there.
His estoc lunged forward, sharp and unrelenting, aiming straight for Aldric's exposed ribs.
—CLANK!
Aldric barely caught it in time, twisting his spear to intercept. Sparks flared as steel ground against steel.
Then—movement.
Aldric's mind recognized it instantly.
Lucavion shifted.
Not erratically, not wildly—but calculated.
His footwork was minimal, barely an inch of movement—yet perfect.
—A feint.
Lucavion's estoc twitched, pretending to retreat—
Aldric's instincts told him to step forward—
And that's when he realized.
It was a trap.
Lucavion's wrist flicked, his blade whipping back in an unnatural arc, twisting through the narrowest of openings—
—CLANK!
Aldric barely managed to reposition, deflecting by the slimmest of margins. But—
—Lucavion was already moving again.
Their fight had become smaller.
No grand explosions. No elemental devastation.
Just pure, raw combat.
And Aldric was losing.
CLANK!
Lucavion's blade danced along his defenses, always just ahead of him, always forcing him to react instead of act.
His smallest mistakes—Lucavion exploited them.
A slight imbalance in his grip? Lucavion struck.
A half-second delay in his step? Lucavion closed the gap.
Aldric could barely regain control.
It was suffocating.
Lucavion's bladework was unreal—like a duel was the only place he existed.
Aldric gritted his teeth.
'This kid…'
Lucavion stepped in again.
—CLANK!
Aldric pushed back—his spear twisting, trying to create distance.
But Lucavion—
He didn't retreat.
He collapsed the space again.
His estoc curved around Aldric's block—
Aldric's eyes widened.
He had no choice—
—THUNK!
A clean hit.
Lucavion's blade scraped along Aldric's gauntlet, nicking flesh.
Not deep. Not lethal.
But a hit.
Aldric's breath was ragged.
His body knew.
In a clash of pure technique—
Lucavion was stronger.
Aldric exhaled, slow and sharp.
His grip tightened around his spear.
Annoying.
That was the only word for it.
This kid.
This mere child—a boy he had spared all those years ago on the battlefield, a nameless insect he had let crawl away simply for his own amusement—
Was outdueling him.
His spear—the very weapon he had mastered through decades of war—was losing in pure technique.
To Lucavion.
Aldric's pride seethed.
Unacceptable.
His crimson eyes darkened.
"You… are getting ahead of yourself."
Then—
—FWOOOOOOM!
The air imploded.
Wind erupted from Aldric's body, his core surging to its absolute limit.
A violent, whirling tempest engulfed him, his entire form consumed by a storm of razor-sharp gales.
Lucavion's coat whipped violently, his footing shaking under the sheer force of it.
Then—
⚡ 「Stormpiercer: Tyrant's Howl」 ⚡
Aldric moved.
—BOOOOOM!
Lucavion's instincts screamed.
He barely raised his estoc before—
CLAAAAANG!
Aldric's spear slammed into him, a brutal arc of force.
The impact rattled his bones.
Chapter 586: Knight of the Wind (3)
⚡ 「Stormpiercer: Tyrant's Howl」 ⚡
Aldric moved.
—BOOOOOM!
Lucavion's instincts screamed.
He barely raised his estoc before—
CLAAAAANG!
Aldric's spear slammed into him, a brutal arc of force.
The impact rattled his bones.
Lucavion gritted his teeth—too strong.
Before he could adjust—
—SWOOOSH!
Aldric was already on him again.
A second strike.
Lucavion parried—
But Aldric's wind-infused spear twisted unnaturally, redirecting the momentum mid-swing—
—THWACK!
The blunt end of the spear smashed into Lucavion's ribs.
Pain exploded through his body.
His breath hitched, his vision blurred.
He stumbled.
Aldric did not let up.
He pressed forward, his spear an unstoppable force, his aura roaring like a vengeful storm.
This was not technique anymore.
This was raw, overwhelming power.
Lucavion tried to counter—
But he couldn't keep up.
—CLAAAANG!
Aldric's spear rained down like an unrelenting hurricane.
Lucavion dodged. Blocked. Parried.
Yet every time he adjusted—Aldric was faster.
Aldric crushed his defenses, his sheer power widening the gap between them.
Then—
—BOOOOOM!
A final strike.
Lucavion tried to move—
—Too slow.
Aldric's spear slammed straight into his stomach.
CRACK!
Lucavion's body lurched backward, blood spurting from his mouth.
He crashed into the rooftop, his vision flickering.
His body wouldn't move.
Aldric exhaled.
He rolled his shoulder, the storm around him settling as he gazed down at Lucavion.
"Stay down," he said, voice smooth, laced with cold satisfaction.
"This is the difference between us."
Top of Form
Bottom of Form
****
I gritted my teeth, struggling to keep my vision from blurring into nothingness. My body felt distant, sluggish—every nerve screaming in protest, every muscle refusing to obey.
Damn it…
I had thought—no, I had believed—I could handle this. That my skill, my instincts, my sheer determination would be enough to bridge the gap between me and him. That even if Aldric was a 6-star warrior, I could outmaneuver him. Outthink him.
And yet—
"This is the difference between us."
His voice was calm. Detached. As if my struggle had been expected. As if my efforts, my blade, my existence—had never mattered to begin with.
A shadow loomed over me. Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed in the silence, each one carrying the weight of inevitability.
My grip tightened around my estoc, fingers trembling from the effort. Move. I willed my body to respond. Stand up.
Nothing.
I was too weak. Too slow. Too—
[Lucavion!]
Vitaliaras' voice rang in my mind, cutting through the suffocating fog threatening to consume me. Sharp. Urgent.
My breath hitched.
And suddenly—
I was there again.
The battlefield.
Fifteen years old. A spear in my hands. The weight of armor that still felt foreign on my shoulders. The deafening blare of the war horn.
Garret. Mateo. Felix. Elias. Clara.
I saw them all.
I saw them die.
—SWOOSH!
Garret's chest was pierced clean through before he even had time to react.
Mateo's throat was slit open in a blur of green light.
Felix.
Elias.
Clara.
One by one, they were torn from existence. Their deaths weren't grand. Weren't dramatic. They were efficient. Merciless.
I had stood there.
Frozen.
My body, refusing to move.
My mind, screaming at me to do something.
Clara had been the last. Her hands had glowed with mana, her stance unsteady but determined.
"Stay back!" she had shouted, her voice shaking but fierce.
I remembered the knight tilting his head. That condescending smirk. The effortless way his spear had torn through her magic.
And then—
—STAB!
I saw her fall again. The way her fingers twitched, as if reaching for something—someone. Her breath, shallow. Her lips parting in silent disbelief.
Her eyes—dim, but searching.
For me.
For the person who should have saved her.
I had done nothing.
And Aldric's words now—they weren't new.
I had heard them before.
"You're still alive. Interesting."
The past.
The present.
They blurred together, tangled in the haze of my breaking consciousness.
The knight from back then. The knight standing before me now.
It didn't matter which battlefield this was.
The outcome was always the same.
I lost.
I failed.
I was weak.
But—
Was that really the end of it?
My breaths were shallow, my fingers numb. But somewhere deep, in the pit of my soul, something burned.
A spark.
No.
My vision blurred, the edges of the world folding in on themselves. The weight of my body was distant, yet the cold bite of reality pressed against my skin like an iron brand. Aldric's figure was a dark blur, his approach slow, deliberate—certain.
His aura flared around him, a violent storm of condensed mana, twisting and crackling with raw, unrestrained power. His [Aura Body]—a technique that forged the physical form into something beyond human, beyond mortal. A body sculpted by mana, refined through mastery, creating something faster, stronger, superior.
A technique that separated the weak from the strong.
A technique that separated him from me.
—Yet, was that truly the case?
For a split second, everything around me changed.
The battlefield. The wounds. The crushing weight of my own mortality.
It all faded.
Instead, I stood within a memory.
"Brat," Master's voice was as sharp as the blade he had once put in my hands. I remembered the way his golden eyes flickered as he regarded me, arms crossed, his presence as heavy as a mountain. "You're training for the sake of beating someone, aren't you?"
I had said nothing. I didn't need to.
He scoffed, shaking his head before rising to his feet, his expression stern and unyielding. "With the way you are now, you won't be able to defeat him."
A truth that cut deeper than any blade.
I had spent years honing my sword for one reason. One singular purpose.
Revenge.
To kill Aldric. To cut off his head with my own hands.
But was that all?
The memory shattered, and I was back in my broken body, my knees half-bent, my breathing unsteady.
Aldric was almost upon me now. His spear glinted under the dim light, his expression unreadable beneath his helm.
I wasn't afraid.
No—I was awake.
What was it I truly lived for?
Not just revenge.
Not just survival.
The impossible.
To stand at the precipice of death, to dance along the line between life and oblivion—and cross it.
To step into the realm where no one believed I could tread.
To achieve the impossible.
The answer had always been there.
And now, at the very edge of death—
I reached for it.
My gaze locked onto Aldric, but I wasn't watching him.
I was watching his Aura Body.
The way it shifted. The way it formed around his frame, layering over his muscles, strengthening every fiber of his being.
'Imitate it.'
And then—
I reached inward.
Deep into the core of my being.
Past the wounds. Past the exhaustion. Past the remnants of a body that had nearly given up.
—And I commanded it to move.
A flicker of light—cold, vast, eternal.
My first core ignited.
[Devourer of Stars.]
A shroud of deep starlight flickered to life around me—thin at first, then growing, spreading, weaving itself into something more. The void-like energy of my mana didn't crash outward like Aldric's storm.
It was silent.
Subtle.
Not a raging hurricane—
But an all-consuming abyss.
A thin, barely perceptible layer of starlight formed over my skin. Unlike Aldric's [Aura Body], which reinforced his physical form through sheer force, mine did something different.
It devoured.
'Not enough.'
The thought slammed through me like a vice, my breathing sharp and uneven.
The thin veil of starlight around my body flickered, unstable, struggling to hold. It wasn't enough.
Because it couldn't be enough.
This was why [Aura Body] belonged only to those who had reached the 6-star rank. Because their mana was stable. Because their cores had matured, refined themselves enough to handle the strain.
I was forcing something into existence that wasn't meant to be.
I could feel it—like trying to build a bridge out of smoke, like forcing reality to bend in a way it didn't want to.
The structure was there, but the foundation—the power—was insufficient.
And yet—
I had something else.
The second core inside me, the one that had never truly settled, never truly harmonized—
[Flame of Equinox.]
Life and death. Opposites, contradictions, forces that weren't meant to exist in tandem—yet within me, they did.
A raw, untamed power that burned at my very soul.
Aldric's spear was nearly upon me.
No time. No hesitation.
Draw it.
I reached inward—again.
And I tore the power from the [Flame of Equinox].
The reaction was instant.
White-hot agony detonated through my veins.
A sensation beyond pain—like my very cells were splitting apart, like my body was being crushed, melted, remade all at once.
The life energy burned—searing through my mana circuits like wildfire, forcing my body to endure.
The death energy devoured—stabilizing, consuming the excess, anchoring the chaotic force before it could destroy me.
I felt it all.
Every nerve screaming. Every bone trembling, as if rejecting what I was forcing it to accept.
The two opposing forces did not belong together.
And yet—
I made them belong.
The shroud of starlight around me darkened—its edges flickering with the eerie, molten glow of the [Flame of Equinox].
Life and death—melded into form.
Not a true [Aura Body].
Not a technique refined through years of mastery.
This was something else.
Something raw.
Something unnatural.
The [Devourer of Stars] wrapped around my body, no longer just an extension of my mana—
But an extension of my very existence.
Aldric's spear struck—
Yet, now I could see it slowed.
Chapter 587: Knight of the Wind (4)
Time stretched.
The spear, once too fast for my eyes to track, now moved as if trapped in thickened air. Every rotation of its shaft, every flicker of wind mana dancing along its surface—I saw all of it.
The agony inside me was unbearable. My nerves burned, my bones felt wrong, my mana circuits screamed in protest. Every cell in my body was caught in the war between life and death, between destruction and survival.
Yet—
I moved.
My body, weighed down just moments ago, now felt weightless. The air itself seemed to bend around me, every detail crisp, every motion clear.
Dodge.
A fraction of a second before impact, I shifted.
Not wildly. Not with desperation.
A single, precise step to the side.
The spearhead tore through empty space, grazing past my ribs. I could feel the force of it, the sheer weight of the technique behind the strike. Had I moved even a breath too late, my chest would've been torn open.
But it missed.
And in that moment—Aldric was open.
Now.
I lunged.
My estoc, gripped in both hands, twisted in a perfect, needle-like thrust. No excess movement. No wasted effort. My muscles flowed like a taut wire releasing all its tension in an instant.
—SHNK!
My blade pierced Aldric's shoulder.
His body jerked, the force of the impact sending a rippling shockwave through his aura body.
For the first time, his balance wavered.
For the first time, I broke through.
His head snapped toward me, his crimson eyes widening.
Too late.
I had already moved again.
I twisted the blade—angled just right, forcing the wound open, severing deeper into flesh. Aldric's body reacted instinctively, his stance shifting to counter—
But I was already gone.
My speed was unreal.
I wasn't running—I was tearing through space itself. Each step carried me further than it should have, as if the very concept of movement had changed.
I felt it.
The wind. The force. The momentum.
My body wasn't just keeping up.
It was leading the rhythm of the fight.
Aldric staggered back, his free hand snapping up to grip his wounded shoulder. Blood—rich, dark—spilled down his armor, staining the gleaming metal.
He exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable.
"You—"
His words faltered.
I pressed forward.
Aldric's wound was still fresh, his aura body flickering from the force of my strike. His stance—unyielding, controlled—was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.
I won't let him recover.
I surged in, my estoc already snapping toward his ribs. A direct stab—no hesitation. No mercy.
—CLANG!
Aldric barely managed to twist his spear, deflecting the strike with the shaft. But he wasn't steady. His movements weren't as fluid as before.
Another strike.
I reversed the grip, pivoted, and slashed. The edge of my blade screamed through the air—
—CLANG!
He blocked again, but this time, I saw it.
The way his left foot slipped back an inch too far. The tightening in his jaw. The way his breathing staggered.
He was feeling it.
Again.
I twisted my body, mana surging through my limbs as I aimed another thrust for his thigh—
THUMP!
I froze.
A sharp, violent pulse shot through my chest, spreading like wildfire through my veins.
THUMP!
I staggered. My vision swam.
And then—
—A rush of warmth clawed up my throat.
Blood erupted from my mouth, splattering against the cold stone beneath me. My knees buckled, my body folding forward as another pulse tore through my core.
THUMP!
What—
[LUCAVION!]
Vitaliara's voice slammed into my mind, urgent, desperate.
[STOP! YOU'RE DESTROYING YOUR CORE!]
I clenched my teeth, gripping the hilt of my estoc so tightly my knuckles ached. My body—still flooded with the chaotic fusion of my two cores—was breaking apart.
I felt it.
My mana circuits seizing, the conflicting energies raging inside me like a beast trying to tear its way free.
[STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!]
I could hear the fear in her voice.
But I couldn't.
Not when I looked up—
And saw Aldric.
He was still standing. But his posture—shaken. His shoulder—still bleeding. His breath—just as ragged as mine.
I hurt him.
I finally hurt him.
And it wasn't enough.
Not nearly enough.
Then—
I saw them.
Garret.
Mateo.
Felix.
Elias.
Clara.
Their bodies, lying motionless in the dirt. Their wounds gaping, blood soaking into the ground.
As if time had folded in on itself, I saw them again—the moment they had fallen, the moment I had failed.
My breathing came in short, shaking bursts. My fingers trembled.
'No.'
Not again.
Not when I was this close.
I clenched my jaw, my body screaming in protest, my core cracking under the pressure.
And I forced myself to stand.
I stood.
Pain flared through every inch of my body, raw and unrelenting, but it no longer mattered. My breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, my vision pulsing with the aftershocks of forcing my cores to meld. Every heartbeat sent another wave of agony through my chest, but my fingers tightened around my estoc.
Aldric was still there. Still breathing. Still standing.
Not enough.
I forced my body forward, forced my mana to respond.
「Void Starfall Blade. Dance of the Celestial.」
The moment the words formed in my mind, everything around me shifted.
The Void Starfall Blade wasn't just about destruction. It wasn't just about power.
It was about flow.
And I could see it now. The steps. The rhythm. The intricate weave of movement and blade, void and motion.
I envisioned it—
And then I moved.
The first movement—
Stellar Prelude.
I dashed forward.
No—I tore through space itself.
The ground beneath me cracked as I launched off my back foot, my estoc carving a clean arc through the air. The void element laced along my blade erased resistance, making each motion effortless.
Aldric reacted instantly, twisting his spear to intercept—
⚡ CLANG! ⚡
His aura flared, wind mana bursting outward as he blocked, his footing sliding back just slightly.
I wasn't done.
The second movement—
Nebula Spiral.
My footwork twisted, my estoc whipping around in an unpredictable arc. The void around my blade expanded, warping space itself, making my trajectory impossible to track.
Aldric's eyes narrowed—
His spear snapped up, adjusting—
Too late.
The blade cut across his side, carving through the mana reinforcement of his aura body. Blood sprayed, his coat splitting open.
I could hear his breath hitch.
But I was already onto the next strike.
The third movement—
Falling Astral Spear.
A single thrust.
Pinpoint. Precise.
Everything funneled into a singular, fatal strike aimed for his heart. The void compressed, condensing into pure destruction.
Aldric felt the danger.
⚡ FWOOOSH! ⚡
He vanished—his body flickering back with a sudden burst of wind mana. My estoc missed his chest by mere inches, slicing into his shoulder instead.
I saw it—
His breath, uneven. The stiffness in his movements.
He was weakening.
I had him.
The fourth movement—
Ecliptic Waltz.
A blur of motion.
I pivoted, my body twisting in perfect synchrony with my blade. The estoc traced a circle of starlit void before—
Crash!
I slammed it downward.
⚡ CLASH! ⚡
Aldric blocked, but this time, he didn't fully deflect.
His footing buckled. His spear shook under the impact.
His aura body—once unbreakable—was cracking.
I inhaled sharply.
The final movement—
Eventide Descent.
The finishing strike.
I exhaled, my estoc rising high—
Void starlight flooded around my blade, the energy coalescing into something vast, something absolute.
For a fleeting second—
It was as if the night sky itself had descended into my hands.
And then—
I moved.
A single downward slash.
All of my speed. All of my power.
Everything—
My blade descended.
Aldric raised his spear in a final act of defiance, but it was too late.
My estoc, wreathed in the consuming void, cleaved straight through his aura body—through his arm—through bone.
SHLNK!
The resistance was nothing.
Like a hot knife through butter.
Aldric's right arm, the one gripping his spear, separated cleanly at the shoulder.
Blood erupted from the wound, spraying across the battlefield.
"AAAAAAAH!"
His scream tore through the night, raw and broken.
But I wasn't finished.
I pivoted, reversing my grip—
SLASH!
My blade severed his other arm at the elbow.
Aldric collapsed to his knees, his body trembling violently, his breath coming in short, erratic gasps. His once-proud stance, the towering presence of the Knight of the Wind—reduced to this.
His head tilted upward, his crimson eyes locking onto mine.
I stared down at him.
And then—
I saw them.
Garret.
Mateo.
Felix.
Elias.
Clara.
They stood beside him.
Not in blood, not in horror—
But smiling.
Their faces were as I remembered them before the massacre.
"""""You did it."""""
The words drifted softly through the air.
"We knew you would be able to do it."
I swallowed, my chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with my wounds. My grip on my estoc wavered.
Garret nodded, his easy grin never fading.
Mateo laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Took you long enough."
Felix smirked. "Hah. So he wasn't untouchable after all."
Elias adjusted his glasses, a look of quiet pride on his face.
And Clara—Clara just watched me, her eyes warm, full of something I couldn't name.
She stepped forward slightly.
"Now it's time to let us go, Lucavion."
My breath hitched.
A single tear slipped from my eye.
"Yeah…..I am sorry it took this long."
I raised my blade.
Aldric's lips parted, but no words came.
"Goodbye…..My ghosts of the past."
SLASH!
His head rolled onto the blood-soaked ground.
Silence.
The wind carried the last remnants of his life away, dispersing like dust beneath the stars.
And when I looked back—
Garret, Mateo, Felix, Elias, and Clara—
They were gone.
Chapter 588: Too op, needs to get nerfed
Lucavion stood before Aldric's ruined body, his breath ragged, his vision pulsing with the agony threatening to consume him. The headless corpse lay sprawled before him, its severed limbs painting the ground in crimson. The night air was thick with the scent of blood, heavy with the finality of what had just transpired.
Then, the pain struck.
"Urghk—!"
His body convulsed, a violent tremor wracking his frame as another surge of blood erupted from his lips. His knees buckled, and for the first time in his life, he truly felt it—pain beyond the battlefield, beyond wounds that would heal with time.
This was different.
Deep. Crippling. Unforgiving.
Like his very existence was fracturing from within.
His fingers dug into the stone beneath him, knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep himself upright. But the weight—the sheer crushing weight of what he had done, what he had pushed himself beyond—threatened to drag him into oblivion.
Then, a voice.
[Lucavion.]
It wasn't spoken aloud, yet it resounded through him, clear as a bell.
He lifted his head—barely—his breath shallow, his body trembling as a figure emerged before him.
Vitaliara.
She stood there, her presence stark against the moonlit ruins, her golden fur glowing faintly with an ethereal light. But there was no warmth in her expression.
Only raw, unfiltered anger.
[Why! Why did you do it!]
Her voice lashed out, sharp and trembling, her ears flattened against her head. Her usual composed tone was gone, replaced by something frantic—something desperate.
Lucavion exhaled, forcing a weak smirk despite the blood on his lips. "Needed to be done."
[WHY! YOUR CORE!]
Her eyes—so full of light, of something ancient and boundless—pierced through him, searching for something, anything in his gaze that could justify what he had done to himself.
Lucavion didn't answer.
Couldn't.
[Stupid bastard!]
Her voice cracked, and before he could react, she moved.
She didn't hesitate.
Vitaliara surged forward, pressing a small, trembling paw against his abdomen.
A rush of energy exploded from her palm, a blinding white radiance surging outward, engulfing them both in a glow so pure it almost burned.
Lucavion's body jerked as the energy forced itself into him, spreading like wildfire through his shattered mana circuits, grasping at the frayed edges of his being, trying—desperately—to hold him together.
[Stay like this. Don't move!]
Her command was absolute.
Lucavion, for once, had no choice but to obey.
The warmth pressed into his abdomen, sinking past skin and flesh, winding through his veins like a tide of fire and light. It burned—not with pain, but with something deeper, something fundamental. A force that sought to mend what should have been beyond mending.
Lucavion breathed in slowly.
The air still smelled of blood.
His blood.
It was pooling beneath him, staining the ground where he knelt, a dark reminder of what he had done. What he had forced himself to become, if only for a moment.
Vitaliara's paw remained firm against him, her golden glow pulsing in time with his ragged breaths.
[Idiot.]
Her voice trembled, thick with something she refused to name.
Lucavion didn't answer. He simply watched her, silent as the warmth spread, settling into the deepest fractures of his being.
His core was beyond overdrawn. He had felt it the moment the fight ended, the second the rush had faded and the weight of reality had slammed back into him. It wasn't just pain. It was wrongness. A sensation of something in him unraveling, the delicate balance between life and death thrown into chaos.
Because he had done something he wasn't supposed to.
His body wasn't ready. His core wasn't ready.
And now he was paying the price.
Vitaliara let out a sharp breath, her paw pressing harder against him.
[What were you going to do if I wasn't here?]
Still, Lucavion remained silent.
[What if—] She swallowed, her ears twitching, her voice tight. [What if this was it? What if your core collapsed entirely? What then?]
He didn't answer.
Because she already knew.
His core wasn't stable. It never had been. It was an anomaly, a force that had no right existing in a single body. [Devourer of Stars]. [Flame of Equinox]. Two opposing forces that had barely coexisted until now, bound together only by sheer will and reckless instinct.
Tonight, he had forced them into something new.
And nearly broken himself in the process.
The glow from her paw flared brighter, her life energy pouring into him without restraint. Each pulse of her power steadied his breathing, smoothed the erratic pulse of his heart, dulled the jagged ache laced through his mana circuits.
And yet—
It wasn't enough.
Vitaliara knew it too.
[If it were me before Stormhaven—] her voice wavered, [—I wouldn't have been able to do this. I wouldn't have been able to heal you at all.]
Her paw trembled against his skin.
[Do you understand? Do you even realize how close you were?]
Lucavion's fingers curled against the stone. He exhaled, slow and measured.
He knew.
Of course, he knew.
He had gambled everything on that moment, on his instinct telling him he could reach it. The power Aldric wielded—the [Aura Body] that separated a 6-star from the rest of the world—Lucavion had glimpsed it and forced his own path to it.
Through sheer defiance.
Through will alone.
And his body had suffered for it.
Vitaliara didn't speak for a long moment. Her ears were still pressed flat against her skull, her tail stiff, every part of her bristling with frustration.
And something else.
Something raw.
Lucavion knew why she was like this. Why she was pushing too much life energy into him, why she was lashing out while forcing him to heal.
She was scared.
She didn't understand why he had done it.
And she hated that.
But more than that—
She hated that she couldn't stop him from doing it again.
Lucavion closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth settle, letting the scolding words pass over him without resistance.
She needed to yell at him.
So he let her.
He stayed silent.
Because he knew if he said anything—anything at all—he would only make her angrier.
Vitaliara's glow pulsed, her energy surging into him, smoothing over the broken edges of his existence. Yet, as the light coursed through his veins, something in her aura shifted.
A pause. A hesitation.
And then—
[Cracked…]
The word came out soft. Distant.
Lucavion opened his eyes, his breath slow, controlled, even as a dull weight settled in his chest.
For an Awakened, one's core cracking meant death.
Not just injury. Not just a wound to be mended with time.
Death.
Because to crack one's core was to sever the link to mana itself. To lose the very essence that made an Awakened what they were.
His fingers twitched, but he remained silent, waiting for her next words.
Vitaliara's expression was unreadable, her golden eyes locked onto his core as if seeing something beyond flesh.
And then—
[But… it is not that severe.]
Lucavion's chest rose and fell, slow and steady.
[It can be healed.]
Relief did not come. Not yet.
He only inhaled, letting her words settle, feeling the warmth of her energy as it wound deeper, stabilizing what little remained intact.
Then—
Vitaliara's gaze flickered toward Aldric's remains. His torso still stood, blood pooling around him, his aura long since extinguished—yet the death mana within him lingered. A dense, potent force, clinging to the last fragments of his existence.
Vitaliara exhaled.
[Absorb his death mana now.]
Lucavion followed her gaze, his vision narrowing on the ruined corpse. The remnants of a 6-star warrior.
"Okay."
His voice was quiet, but resolute.
He closed his eyes.
And reached.
—SHRRRRRK.
The air around him twisted. A pull. A shift. A rupture in the natural flow of mana.
The moment he called upon it, his [Flame of Equinox] stirred, burning in the depths of his being, seizing upon the remnants of Aldric's power.
And it was—
Overwhelming.
Not just raw death mana, not just the remnants of a warrior.
It was something else.
Denser. Heavier. Almost suffocating.
Like the weight of all the battles Aldric had fought, all the lives he had taken, all the victories he had carved into existence.
Lucavion's breath hitched. His body stiffened, his mana circuits straining as the sheer density of the energy flooded into him.
A mid-4-star warrior. That was where he had been. Stuck. Blocked.
But now—
Now, his core roared to life, the [Flame of Equinox] devouring Aldric's death mana, not as mere sustenance—
But as fuel.
His rank surged.
Mid-4-star—no, peak.
The barrier he had fought against, the wall that had loomed before him, shattered beneath the sheer weight of the power flowing into him.
Yet, even as his core absorbed it, another force stirred.
Vitaliara.
Her energy wrapped around him, seizing upon the excess, channeling it not into him—
But into his shattered [Devourer of Stars] core.
Chapter 589: Too op, needs to get nerfed (2)
Vitaliara pressed her paw against his chest, her golden energy seeping deeper, weaving through the fractured remains of his core. The light pulsed—steady, unwavering—as it worked its way through the cracks, forcing them to mend, binding together what should have been beyond repair.
Lucavion could feel it.
Not just the healing, but her focus. The sheer force of her will as she poured every ounce of herself into fixing him.
And yet—
[Reckless. Idiotic. Suicidal bastard.]
Her voice was sharp, each word laced with something that was neither anger nor frustration, but something deeper.
Something raw.
[Do you have any idea how close you were? Do you understand how fragile this is?]
Lucavion exhaled slowly. He didn't answer.
Not because he didn't know, but because he did.
Because the more she spoke, the more her words trembled at the edges, the more she pushed her energy into him with too much force, as if trying to make up for the fact that she hadn't been able to stop him from doing this in the first place.
[If I wasn't here—] she growled, her tail flicking in agitation, [—you'd be dead. DEAD, Lucavion.]
Another surge of light. A sharp pulse of warmth burrowed into his core, forcing the shattered fragments to align, to stabilize.
The pain dulled.
The wrongness receded.
[What were you thinking? Oh, wait, you weren't thinking! No, of course not! You just threw yourself into something you weren't ready for—again—because gods forbid you ever consider your limits like a normal person!]
Lucavion let out a slow breath, eyes flickering open just slightly.
She was close. Too close. Her ears flattened, her fur bristling, her tail lashing like she wanted to smack him across the face with it. But her paws—one on his chest, the other hovering just above his abdomen—did not waver.
He could see it. The way her glow flickered at the edges, the way her body trembled from the sheer exertion.
She was using everything.
Every ounce of life energy she had to stabilize his core, to pull him back from the precipice.
And she wasn't stopping.
[Stupid. Infuriating. Suicidal.]
A harsh exhale. Her claws pressed ever so slightly into his skin.
[Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I want to fix the mess you make of yourself every damn time?]
Lucavion said nothing.
Because she didn't mean it.
Not really.
The moment she saw him crumbling, she had acted without hesitation. The moment she realized his core was cracked, she had moved before even thinking.
Because the truth was—
She would always fix him.
Because she couldn't bear the alternative.
[You should be grateful I even bother with you, you reckless idiot.]
Her voice shook—just slightly.
Lucavion closed his eyes again.
A flicker of a smirk ghosted his lips. Not in amusement. Not in arrogance.
Just because.
Because he knew.
And because she needed to say it.
So he let her.
And stayed silent.
The last of Vitaliara's energy settled into place, a final pulse of warmth threading through his body before fading. The pain, the unbearable wrongness that had plagued his core, dulled into something distant, something bearable. His body no longer felt like it was on the verge of collapse.
Lucavion inhaled slowly.
It was over.
Or so he thought.
Then—
Something felt off.
His breath hitched, his body tensing. Instinctively, he reached inward, searching for the familiar presence of his [Devourer of Stars] core—the deep, endless abyss of starlight mana that had always been there, humming beneath his skin, silent but constant.
But now—
Nothing.
A vast, empty void.
It was gone.
His eyes snapped open, sharp and alert, locking onto Vitaliara.
"Vitaliara?" His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it. A quiet urgency.
She didn't hesitate. Didn't falter.
[I sealed your core.]
Lucavion's breath stalled.
"What?"
Vitaliara exhaled, her golden eyes firm, unwavering.
[Are you deaf? I said I sealed your core.]
Lucavion stared at her, waiting for an explanation, waiting for something that made sense.
[I couldn't allow any mana to enter your core, no matter what.] Her voice was sharp, but beneath it, something softer lurked. [Right now, your core is in such a fragile state that any disturbance—any at all—could cause the crack to widen.]
His fingers twitched. His core—his connection to it—was severed. He couldn't even feel it.
"Then… what did you actually fix?"
Vitaliara's tail flicked. [I saved your meridians. I stabilized your connection to the core. But I didn't remove the crack completely.]
A pause.
[I can't.]
Lucavion's eyes narrowed.
[Not as I am now.]
Her words hung between them, unspoken weight pressing down.
He exhaled slowly. "Then…"
[Yes. It will take a while. And until then, you won't be able to use your core.]
Silence.
Lucavion processed the words carefully, methodically.
It wasn't that she didn't want him to use it. Normally, she wouldn't have sealed it at all.
But—
He was different.
[You are one of the most talented people I have ever seen,] she muttered, staring at him with something unreadable in her eyes. [Maybe the most talented.]
Lucavion raised an eyebrow slightly, but she wasn't done.
[Even when you're not cultivating, I've seen it. You unconsciously draw mana into your core, without even thinking.]
That much was true. His connection to mana was instinctual, effortless. He barely needed to try.
But now—
That talent, the thing that had always given him an edge—
Was a danger.
[And I will not take that risk.]
Her voice was final. Absolute.
Lucavion's gaze remained steady on her, unreadable, his mind turning over the weight of her words. He had spent years refining his control over mana, sharpening his instincts until drawing it into his core was as natural as breathing. And now—he was being told not to breathe.
"Then, how long will it take?"
Vitaliara hesitated for only a moment before replying.
[I don't know.]
Lucavion's eyes narrowed slightly.
[From the way I am now, it shouldn't take more than a year.]
A year.
More than a year.
That was… a long time.
Lucavion didn't flinch, didn't react outwardly, but his mind ran the calculations. A year without his [Devourer of Stars]—without the core that had carried him through battle after battle, the core that had defined his growth.
That was a severe handicap.
[But,] Vitaliara continued, [you can still use your [Flame of Equinox].]
Lucavion's eyes flicked downward, to the corpse before him. Aldric lay in pieces, the once-formidable warrior reduced to a mere bloodied ruin at his feet. The battle was over.
Yet, the price remained.
"...Sigh."
He exhaled, his shoulders loosening ever so slightly as reality settled in.
Reckless.
That was the word, wasn't it?
What he did was reckless. Charging past his limits, forcing his body into something it wasn't ready for, pushing beyond what should have been possible.
And now he was paying for it.
His lips twitched, amusement flickering in his expression despite everything.
"Well..." He murmured, his gaze lingering on Aldric's remains. "I was planning on using my master's name, but I guess we'll postpone that a bit later."
Vitaliara's ears twitched. [Hmph. You should be grateful you're still alive to postpone anything.]
Lucavion chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. His core was sealed, his mana crippled, and yet, as his smirk returned, there was no regret in his voice.
"Still not bad."
Lucavion exhaled, his breath still uneven but steadying. His body ached—more than it ever had—but it was no longer screaming in protest. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself up, his muscles straining as he forced himself to stand.
Vitaliara watched him, her golden eyes sharp, but she said nothing.
When he was finally upright, he let out a slow breath and turned to her. His expression was unreadable for a moment, his gaze lingering on her before he spoke.
"...Thank you."
His voice was quiet. Sincere.
Not the usual teasing lilt, not the smooth arrogance he wore like armor.
A genuine thanks.
Vitaliara's ears twitched. Her tail flicked once. Then, she turned her head slightly, as if avoiding his gaze.
[Hmph. Don't get sentimental.]
Lucavion's lips curled slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it."
With that, he turned his attention to Aldric's corpse.
His eyes scanned the body carefully before settling on the gleam of a bracelet wrapped around the man's arm. His gaze flickered lower, landing on the spatial ring that still sat on Aldric's finger.
And then—his spear.
Lucavion smirked.
"I will be taking these."
He stepped forward, crouching slightly as he slipped the bracelet from Aldric's lifeless wrist. It was well-crafted, intricate in its design, something far too valuable to leave behind. He inspected it briefly before securing it in his own storage.
Next was the spear.
Even in death, the weapon retained an imposing presence, its shaft imbued with the faint traces of wind mana, the edge sharp and unyielding. Lucavion ran a hand over it, feeling the weight, the balance.
"Not bad."
With a flick of his wrist, he stored it away, then reached for the spatial ring. He rolled it between his fingers, smirking to himself.
Spatial storages couldn't be placed inside one another. That meant he'd have to go through this one later.
No rush.
Finally, his gaze drifted beyond the battlefield, toward the horizon where the first traces of dawn began bleeding into the sky.
The night had felt endless.
Yet here was the sun, as if nothing had happened.
Lucavion let out a quiet chuckle, then turned his head slightly toward Vitaliara.
"You have a lot of questions, don't you?"
She didn't hesitate.
[Yes.]
Lucavion let the word linger in the air for a moment before exhaling through his nose.
Then, without another word, he reached down—
And grabbed Aldric's severed head.
Chapter 590: Trinity
The war in Varenthia had begun.
The city burned with chaos. The streets, once filled with murmured deals and quiet exchanges, now rang with the clash of steel, the screams of the dying, and the crackling of fire spreading through warehouses and dens of the Black Veil.
Draven moved through the battlefield like a specter of war. His blade flashed, his movements sharp and calculated—there was no wasted effort. Strike. Kill. Move.
Vyrell fought with precision, every motion deliberate, his blade an extension of his mind. He had no love for unnecessary violence, but his strikes were surgical—cutting through the enemy with terrifying efficiency.
Soren, in contrast, was destruction incarnate. A war beast in human form. Every swing of his warhammer sent bodies flying, shattered bones, and turned the battlefield into a slaughterhouse. Where Vyrell was a scalpel, Soren was an avalanche.
And together, they tore through the remnants of the Black Veil's forces.
Draven had expected this. A crushing, decisive attack to cripple their control. What he hadn't expected—
—was the backup that arrived next.
From the alleyways, from the rooftops, from the broken buildings where the battle had already raged, three figures emerged.
They weren't ordinary fighters.
Draven knew strength when he saw it. And these three? They weren't just strong. They were trained.
His grip on his blade tightened as he got his first real look at them.
One was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a greataxe strapped to his back, his crimson armor marked with deep scars—proof of countless battles. His eyes were calm, but heavy with experience.
The second was lean, dressed in dark clothing with twin daggers glinting at his hips. His stance was low, predatory—like a beast waiting to strike. His silver eyes flickered with amusement, as if this entire war was nothing more than a game.
The third was the most dangerous.
A spear rested easily in his hand, his grip relaxed. His dark hair was tied back, his expression unreadable, but Draven knew immediately—this was no ordinary warrior.
The air around him felt heavier. Not from mana pressure. Not from an aura.
But from something else. Something old.
Draven's instincts screamed at him.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Who the hell are these bastards?"
Soren cracked his neck, his grin widening. "Finally. Was getting bored."
Vyrell, however, narrowed his eyes. His grip on his sword shifted slightly—a small, almost imperceptible change. But Draven caught it.
He was wary.
Which meant these men were dangerous.
The one with the spear stepped forward, his gaze scanning the battlefield with detached interest before landing on Draven.
"You must be the one leading this," he mused, his voice light, almost conversational.
Draven's smirk was sharp. "Took you long enough to show up. Thought your boss was just gonna roll over and let us take the city."
The man tilted his head slightly. "Aldric isn't moving yet."
Draven expected as much. Aldric was smart. He'd wait. Watch. Assess.
But these three—these weren't just lieutenants.
The air tensed, the battlefield falling into an eerie silence as the three unknown warriors stood across from Draven, Vyrell, and Soren. There was no hesitation—no pre-battle theatrics, no unnecessary words.
They weren't here to intimidate.
They were here to kill.
Soren let out a sharp exhale, his fingers tightening around the handle of his warhammer. "Tch. Finally, some decent prey."
Vyrell, in contrast, was silent, his sharp gaze locked onto the man with the spear. His grip on his sword adjusted subtly—no wasted movements, just preparation.
Draven's smirk remained, but his body had already shifted into a defensive stance. His instincts screamed at him—these three weren't just strong, they were coordinated. There was no reckless bravado, no wasted confidence.
They were killers.
And then—
They moved.
The broad-shouldered axeman surged forward first, his crimson armor catching the flickering flames around them. He wasn't fast, but he didn't need to be. Every step carried the weight of sheer, overwhelming force. He swung his greataxe in a horizontal arc, the air around it howling from the sheer power behind the strike.
Soren roared in response, meeting brute force with brute force. His warhammer clashed against the axe, sending a deafening shockwave through the street. The ground beneath them cracked, cobblestones shattering under the raw impact.
Soren grinned. "Not bad."
But the axeman didn't react—no change in expression, no sign of amusement. Just cold, efficient violence. He pushed forward, his strength pressing against Soren's stance, forcing the larger man back by inches.
Vyrell, meanwhile, barely had time to dodge as the dagger-wielding assassin vanished. A blur of movement, faster than any normal fighter should have been. He reappeared at Vyrell's flank, one dagger slicing through the air with deadly precision.
Vyrell twisted at the last second, his sword barely catching the attack, steel scraping against steel. The force behind the blow sent a jarring shock through his arm.
Fast. Too fast.
The assassin's silver eyes gleamed. "You react well," he murmured. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Vyrell didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Steel clashed, blades flashing in the firelight as the two entered a deadly dance of speed and precision.
Draven, however, had no time to watch them—
Because the man with the spear was already upon him.
Draven barely managed to sidestep as the spear whistled past his face, the air screaming from the sheer speed of the thrust.
Too fast.
Draven retaliated immediately, slashing toward the spear-wielder's exposed side. But the man moved with unnatural ease, shifting just enough to avoid the strike, his spear already repositioning for another attack.
Draven exhaled sharply. This wasn't good.
They were all 5-star Awakened. But the gap between them was clear.
This wasn't a battle of brute strength. It was a battle of skill, of experience, of killing intent.
And these three? They weren't losing.
Soren gritted his teeth as he struggled against the sheer power of the axeman, his warhammer barely keeping up with the relentless strikes.
Vyrell was already adjusting his movements, his swordwork adapting to the assassin's impossible speed. But even then, he was only keeping up—not winning.
Draven clicked his tongue, dodging another spear thrust that nearly took his throat. He had fought hundreds of warriors.
Draven smirked, blood trailing down his arm from a narrow cut that had barely missed tearing into muscle. His stance shifted, his grip on his blade tightening as the spear-wielder circled him, his expression calm, unreadable.
"You bastards from the Empire," Draven exhaled, voice edged with sharp amusement. "Do you think the streets are a joke?"
The spear-wielder didn't react immediately—just observed. Cold, calculating. The way a trained soldier would assess a battlefield.
Draven hated that look.
Because it meant these bastards still thought they were better.
Better than him. Better than Soren. Better than Vyrell.
Draven clicked his tongue, rolling his shoulders. "I've already made my move," he muttered under his breath. His smirk widened as he ducked under another blindingly fast spear thrust. "And I'm not about to get left behind."
He had put his trust in that crazy bastard.
And for better or worse, Draven wasn't the type to let himself get outpaced by some noble-trained killers.
The spear-wielder lunged again, and this time, Draven didn't just dodge.
He advanced.
His blade clashed against the shaft of the spear, forcing his opponent to react rather than dictate the battle. Draven twisted his body, shifting his weight in a way that shouldn't have been possible mid-motion, slashing upward—
The spear-wielder barely managed to angle his weapon to block, his calm expression flickering with something close to surprise.
"Not bad," Draven muttered, grin sharp as he pressed harder. "But you ain't the only one who knows how to fight."
To his side, Soren roared, planting his feet before driving his warhammer forward with raw, monstrous force. The axeman braced, blocking with the shaft of his weapon—
But this time, Soren had adjusted.
Rather than push forward, he twisted the momentum, dragging the axe-wielder's balance off-center. It was subtle, but it gave Soren just enough space to pull back and launch a brutal counterstrike toward his opponent's ribs.
Vyrell, too, had stopped purely defending. His movements were still controlled, precise, but now he was testing his opponent—finding weaknesses.
The assassin darted in, daggers flashing, but Vyrell met him with a sudden, unexpected reverse grip parry, deflecting the strike just enough to force an opening—
His blade slashed forward—
A thin cut opened along the assassin's side. Not deep. Not lethal. But a wound nonetheless.
The silver-eyed assassin exhaled sharply, his smirk twitching. "Tch."
Draven let out a low chuckle as he dodged another strike from the spear-wielder, his own blade flicking dangerously close to his opponent's throat.
They weren't winning.
Not yet.
But now?
Now, they weren't losing either.
Chapter 591: Surrender
Just as Draven was about to press forward, his blade dangerously close to slashing across the spear-wielder's exposed side—
A shift.
A violent, unnatural shift.
The air trembled.
Mana—raw, overwhelming, **immense—**erupted into the sky from across the city.
A pulse so powerful it sent an involuntary shudder through Draven's body. It wasn't just strong—it was suffocating. A clash. A collision of forces so absurd that for a moment, the battlefield around him felt like it had shrunk, like the true fight was happening somewhere else entirely.
Draven instinctively jumped back, disengaging from his opponent as he turned his gaze to the distance, toward the source.
And there it was.
A pillar of crackling, intertwining energy—two forces colliding.
One, sharp and unwavering, controlled but unrelenting. The kind of power that came from years of tempered, disciplined battle.
The other—wild, suffocating, endless. Something that refused to be contained.
Draven's smirk twitched, even as his chest tightened.
"Tch… that bastard."
Soren, still locked in combat with the axe-wielder, noticed Draven's sudden distraction and gritted his teeth. "Oi, what's with that look?"
Vyrell, too, caught the shift, though he remained composed, his blade holding the assassin at bay. "That mana…"
Draven exhaled sharply. His voice was quieter, but filled with something close to grim amusement. "Lucavion's found Aldric."
The realization settled in the air like a thunderclap.
Soren whistled lowly, adjusting his grip on his warhammer. "Heh. About time."
Vyrell's eyes flickered with calculation. "Then it's out of our hands now."
Draven's fingers flexed around his blade.
It was true.
Whatever was happening there… whatever monstrous battle had just begun—
Was no longer their concern.
Lucavion's job was his own.
The only thing left for Draven now—
Was to do his job properly.
His smirk returned, sharper than before, his grip tightening on his weapon as he turned back toward his opponent.
"Guess I better clean up my side of the battlefield."
****
Draven grit his teeth as his blade clashed once more against the spear-wielder's strike. Sparks flew from the impact, the sheer force rattling his bones. He pushed forward, trying to gain ground, but the bastard moved with inhuman precision—his spear twisting at the last second to redirect Draven's momentum, forcing him back.
The fight wasn't going anywhere.
Draven exhaled sharply, taking a step back to reassess. Around him, the battle still raged, but it was wrong.
This wasn't the easy clean-up he had planned.
Vyrell was locked in an endless exchange with that damn assassin. Every time he seemed to gain an advantage, the bastard slipped through, attacking from another blind spot. Soren was holding his ground against the axeman, their fight a brutal clash of raw strength—but for every inch Soren gained, the enemy took another back.
Draven's gaze flicked across the battlefield. No progress. No ground gained.
Tch. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Where the hell did these fuckers come from?
His plan had been simple—Lucavion takes Aldric, and the rest would crumble.
But these empire bastards… they were far more prepared than expected.
Draven ducked as the spear came for his throat again, twisting his body at the last second. His blade flashed upward, aiming to sever the bastard's wrist—but he missed.
Again.
"Fucking hell," Draven hissed under his breath, regaining his footing.
He didn't like this.
Something wasn't right.
They had expected resistance, sure—but this?
This was too much.
Draven exhaled through his nose, keeping his stance loose, ready to react. His mind worked fast, trying to assess the situation. They couldn't hold this deadlock forever.
Something had to change.
And soon.
"Yo…."
Draven barely had time to register the voice before the axeman in front of him hesitated as well, his gaze snapping toward the rooftops. The brief distraction was all Draven needed to take a step back, his grip tightening around his blade.
Lucavion sat lazily on the edge of a rooftop, one knee propped up, his elbow resting against it. His usual smirk was there, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"How's it going?" he asked, his voice carrying easily over the battlefield.
Draven stared for a second.
"....."
He had no words.
But inside?
Relief.
Lucavion was alive.
And that meant—
Draven's eyes flicked over Lucavion's appearance, his instincts confirming what his brain had just realized.
Blood.
Blood was everywhere.
Lucavion's coat was soaked in it, the dark fabric sticking to his skin. His arms, his legs—there were deep gashes along his body, some already closing, others still raw. His breathing was steady, but Draven could see it. The exhaustion creeping beneath that easy smirk.
Aldric was dead.
Lucavion had won.
Draven wanted to laugh, to smirk, to spit something smug at the enemy still standing before him—but he didn't get the chance.
Because the spear-wielding bastard didn't look away.
Unlike the others, he didn't react to Lucavion's arrival. He didn't hesitate, didn't turn to confirm what had happened.
He struck.
Draven barely raised his sword in time as the spear came for his ribs, the sheer force of the attack rattling his arms. He dug his feet in, twisting just enough to keep the blow from skewering him outright.
"Tch—bastard," Draven hissed.
Lucavion exhaled softly from above, shaking his head. "No rest for the weary, huh?" He spoke.
The spearman shifted slightly, stiffening.
A strange, eerie aura seeped from Lucavion, something neither light nor dark—just wrong. The air around him felt like a void, a place where laws didn't apply.
The spearman's grip on his weapon tightened instinctively. This feeling—
Lucavion barely spared him a glance. Instead, he took a breath and—
"YO! The members of the Black Veil!"
His voice cut through the battlefield like a whip.
The fighting stalled.
For just a second, steel stopped clashing, footsteps hesitated, and wary eyes turned toward him.
Lucavion stood on the rooftop, still smirking, his posture relaxed despite the clear exhaustion in his body. Blood still dripped from his coat, staining the tiles beneath his feet.
And then—he tossed something.
A severed head hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Silence.
The head rolled slightly before settling, its blood pooling over the cracked stone.
And even in death—Aldric Veltorin's face was unmistakable.
The moment the Black Veil members recognized it, a ripple of raw shock spread through their ranks. Some faltered. Others stiffened. A few took a single step back.
Lucavion grinned, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek. "Took me a while, but your boss is gone."
A cold wind swept through the street, carrying the scent of blood and death.
For the first time in the battle—
Lucavion's voice rang out through the battlefield, smooth and effortless—but dripping with lethal intent.
"Now, do you guys want to surrender, or do you want me to slaughter every one of you here?"
And then—he let it loose.
The bloodlust.
A crushing, suffocating wave of sheer killing intent flooded the battlefield, pressing down on every soul present.
The air itself seemed to shrink, the very space around them warping beneath the weight of something that wasn't just menace—but certainty.
This wasn't the empty bravado of a man trying to intimidate his enemies.
This was a man who had already decided the outcome.
Draven barely resisted the urge to shift his stance. He had felt many types of bloodlust before—sharp, cold, brutal—but this?
Lucavion's was different.
It wasn't wild. It wasn't unrestrained.
It was measured. Precise. Absolute.
And the Black Veil felt it.
At first, silence.
And then—
CLANK!
A sword hit the ground.
Then another.
CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!
One by one, weapons slipped from trembling hands, hitting the bloodstained streets.
Some of them stepped back, others outright collapsed to their knees, gasping for air.
Because in that moment—they understood.
Their leader was dead.
And the monster standing before them had been the one to do it.