Lucian felt the world blur as Death's words faded. "I'll send you back now. Show me what you can do."
He blinked and found himself in the middle of the chase. Quentin darted across the rooftops, crossbow in hand, knives at his belt. Lucian's chest heaved, but his eyes were focused, calculating every step.
He lunged. Quentin swung a punch. Lucian ducked, then rolled over the edge of the rooftop, narrowly avoiding another strike.
So this is it. Death's lesson. Pain doesn't matter, lnly survival.
Quentin pulled his crossbow and fired. The bolt hissed toward him.
[Revived]
Lucian tumbled to the side, letting the arrow pierce the wood where he had just been. Heart racing, he countered with a kick, striking Quentin's arm.
Quentin snarled and charged, blades flashing. Lucian blocked one strike but misstepped.
Another punch connected, sending him crashing through a wooden barrier.
"AHHH!"
Pain exploded.
[Revived]
He coughed, rolling back to his feet. Twice I've learned their rhythm. His eyes narrowed. Quentin swung again, crossbow ready.
"You can't hit me!" Lucian shouted, ducking under a knife and slamming his shoulder into Quentin's side.
Quentin growled. "You'll pay for this, brat!"
Another arrow whistled toward him. Lucian dove sideways, rolling midair. Faster. Just react.
He grabbed a loose tile from the rooftop and hurled it, distracting Quentin, making him flinch.
"You're like a rat," Quentin spat, fury in his eyes.
"I'm actually your nightmare," Lucian replied, landing gracefully, sweat dripping from his forehead.
Quentin lunged again, crossbow cocked, knife poised. Lucian sidestepped, grabbed a hanging chain, and swung, striking Quentin's shoulder.
"AHHH!!" Quentin shouted, frustrated.
[Revived]
Lucian landed on his feet. Third time. Third lesson. I know your rhythm. I know your strength.
"Stop running," Lucian muttered under his breath, eyes locked. "This ends now."
Quentin gritted his teeth, lunging again. Lucian smiled, ready for the next strike. Pain didn't matter. Death's gift made him unstoppable.
---
Eurukus watched from a nearby rooftop, arms crossed, eyes narrowing.
The two figures below moved with precision, striking and dodging in perfect rhythm.
Lucian ducked under Quentin's crossbow bolt, rolled, and came back with a kick. Quentin's knife swung, and Lucian sidestepped, barely avoiding it.
Eurukus felt a strange weight in his chest.
The way they fought—the timing, the speed, the cold calculation—it reminded him of someone long gone.
He remembered a battlefield, years ago, with General Fürtwald moving like a storm, striking, dodging, commanding at the same time. And beside him, someone else who was fast, sharp, matching every move.
A partner who had been his friend once.
Now, in front of him, Lucian and Quentin mirrored that same dance.
It was like watching a memory replay itself, yet different. Eurukus's mind tightened with nostalgia and a strange pang of longing.
He shifted slightly, leaning forward.
Lucian's movements were fierce but smart.
Quentin's strikes were lethal and precise.
Eurukus knew both would survive only because of skill and instinct.
Eurukus stepped down from the rooftop, landing silently behind Lucian.
Lucian glanced back, surprise flickering across his face. "You're joining?"
Eurukus gave a curt nod. "It's time."
Quentin's smirk widened. "Ah, so the kid has backup. How quaint." He twirled the crossbow in one hand, dagger in the other, clearly enjoying the attention.
Lucian didn't respond. He lunged forward, weaving under Quentin's first strike. Eurukus followed immediately, moving with calculated precision, cutting off Quentin's escape route.
The fight became a storm of motion. Lucian ducked under a swing, Eurukus blocked a knife, Quentin rolled, fired his crossbow, and both defenders leapt aside in perfect timing.
From the streets below, the clatter of armor announced reinforcements.
Soldiers from the Kingdom of Vorhalla poured into the area, drawn by the commotion.
Quentin laughed, unbothered by the soldiers. "Pathetic. Guards? You really think they'll stop me?"
Eurukus answered with a cold glare, moving in a tight arc to flank him. "They won't, but we will."
Lucian felt the rhythm immediately.
Quentin's strikes were faster now, but the combined coordination of Lucian and Eurukus forced him back step by step.
Moreover, the soldiers hesitated, watching the duel, unsure whether to intervene or not.
Eurukus caught Lucian's eye briefly. Keep moving. Timing is everything.
Quentin smirked again, clearly enjoying the chaos. "I expected a challenge, but this… this is far more interesting than I thought."
Lucian gritted his teeth, dodged a thrown dagger, and thought, This is nothing like anything I trained for. But I'll survive. I have to.
---
Eurukus squared his shoulders and stepped directly in front of Quentin, blocking his path.
He studied Quentin carefully, noting the precision in his movements, the shifts in weight, the subtle but deadly strikes. This man is strong. He's mastered more than one fighting style.
Eurukus exhaled slowly, then, with deliberate motion, he began removing his outer clothes. Lucian's eyes widened, instinctively stepping back a little.
"You really want to know my ability?" Eurukus asked calmly, voice low but firm. "Do you want to see what I truly am?"
Lucian hesitated, curiosity battling caution. "I… I do."
Eurukus's gaze sharpened. "Then watch carefully."
He flexed, and the tension in his body became palpable. A glowing mark appeared across his chest.
It was a lion, its mane flowing across his skin like fire.
"This," Eurukus said, voice steady, "is my Principle. I am a Beast."
Lucian stared, the glow of the mark reflecting in his eyes. He could feel it, even from here, the raw power, the untamed ferocity emanating from Eurukus.
Eurukus looked at him again, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "The Beast Principle doesn't lie. It doesn't hold back. It adapts, strikes, survives. And right now, it's yours to witness… and learn from."
Quentin blinked, momentarily thrown off, as if realizing the stakes had shifted.
Lucian's mind raced. So this is why he moves the way he does… the speed, the instinct, the strength. He's not just a fighter. He's a predator.
The lion mark pulsed faintly, as if breathing, alive. Eurukus's aura seemed to expand, filling the street, challenging Quentin directly.
Lucian clenched his fists. If Eurukus is a Beast, then I need to be ready. Every move counts.
Quentin's smirk faltered slightly, and the first hint of caution appeared in his eyes.
Eurukus flexed once more, the lion mark glowing brighter. "This ends now," he said simply.
Eurukus crouched low, letting his muscles coil like a spring.
His eyes narrowed, the lion mark on his chest pulsing with each heartbeat. Quentin lunged first, throwing a punch aimed at Eurukus's head, but Eurukus sidestepped effortlessly, the air whistling as the fist passed by.
He countered immediately, a sweep of his arm catching Quentin in the chest and sending him sliding across the cobblestones. Quentin scrambled up, drawing a dagger, but Eurukus was already upon him.
His fist connected with Quentin's shoulder, then elbow to ribs, a series of blows so fast it blurred. Quentin barely had time to breathe.
Quentin staggered, then spat out words, eyes wild. "Master… help me… PLEASE!"
Eurukus's hand shot forward with impossible speed. Before Quentin could even finish, his tongue was silenced, blood spilling over his lips.
He stumbled back, coughing, gagging, his panic palpable.
Eurukus didn't let him recover. A spinning kick lifted Quentin off his feet, crashing him into the wall.
Dust and stones flew. Eurukus followed immediately, slamming his elbow into Quentin's chest again, then a rapid succession of strikes to his legs and arms, each blow precise, calculated, unrelenting.
Quentin tried to grab his crossbow, swinging wildly, but Eurukus dodged each attempt with feline grace.
A kick knocked the crossbow out of his hands. Eurukus caught a thrown dagger midair, twisting it from Quentin's grasp before tossing it aside, the blade spinning harmlessly into the street.
Every move was a lesson in control and dominance. Quentin tried to retreat, tried to strike, tried to scream, but Eurukus anticipated everything, reacting before thought could form.
Then, it was finally the final strike, a palm to the chest, sent Quentin flying into a wooden stall.
Quentin coughed, blood dripping from his mouth, eyes wide, desperate, realizing the sheer gap in power. Eurukus loomed over him.
"Your master won't save you," Eurukus said coldly.