Chapter 320: Crimson Serpent Sect
The heavy doors of the Crimson Serpent Sect's grand hall creaked open, a pair of disciplined guards bowing low as six elders strode in. Their robes flowed like waves of blood, embroidered with the coiled serpent emblem that marked their authority. Their presence was imposing, their combined aura a testament to the sect's strength.
Near the center of the hall stood Vaelric's aide, a slender man with sharp, calculating eyes, and the trembling disciple who had brought the news of the attacks. Vaelric himself remained seated on the jagged obsidian throne, his amber gaze fixed on the elders, a faint smirk curling his lips. His stillness was as commanding as the elders' motion, an unspoken declaration of his superiority.
The elders stopped several paces before him, their faces a mixture of irritation and restrained fury. Elder Jayan, her silver-streaked hair catching the torchlight, folded her arms, her gaze sharp and cold.
"Speak," she commanded, her tone carrying the weight of authority.
Vaelric's aide stepped forward, his voice calm but precise, a sharp contrast to the disciple's earlier panic. "Esteemed Elders, the sect is under attack. A group of mercenaries, organized and skilled, has struck multiple locations across Thornridge, targeting our disciples and outposts. They have already claimed the lives of twenty of our own."
A ripple of outrage passed through the elders, their expressions darkening. Elder Varos, his hulking frame tense with anger, let out a low growl. "Mercenaries? They dare to challenge us on our own soil? What arrogance."
The aide continued, undeterred. "These are no ordinary mercenaries. They fight with precision and ferocity, their techniques unfamiliar. They strike swiftly and retreat before reinforcements can arrive."
"They're cowards, then," sneered one of the 3-star elders, a wiry man with a perpetual smirk. "Rats scurrying in the dark."
The disciple, still trembling, interjected nervously, "Sect Master… I mean, Elders, their tactics are… unorthodox. They split into five groups, each hitting a different target. It's chaos—deliberate chaos."
Elder Jayan's eyes narrowed, her sharp gaze fixing on the disciple. "And you're here to tell us you've failed to contain a group of hired blades?"
The disciple flinched, his head bowing lower. "I… I…"
"Enough," The aide's voice cut through the room, calm yet seething with authority. He didn't rise but leaned forward slightly, his amber eyes gleaming with menace. "The elders are more than capable of handling this. You have wasted enough of my time."
He gestured dismissively, and the aide took a step back, his expression neutral. The disciple scrambled to bow and retreat, grateful to escape the suffocating tension of the grand hall.
As the disciple fled the hall, the room was left in a silence heavy with tension. The six elders stood rigid, their combined aura oppressive, but beneath their composed exteriors, a crackling animosity simmered.
Elder Varos's piercing gaze settled on Elder Jayan, his lips curling into a sneer. "It's almost poetic, isn't it?" he began, his deep voice laced with mockery. "Rats scurrying into our sect, only for more rats to strike from the shadows. Your kind seems to attract trouble."
Jayan's silver-streaked head turned slowly toward him, her expression impassive but her sharp eyes gleaming like frost on a blade. "Careful, Varos. It's unbecoming for an elder to let jealousy cloud his judgment."
Another of the original Crimson Serpent Sect elders, a wiry man with a perpetual smirk, snorted derisively. "Jealousy? That's rich, coming from someone who sold out her own sect to climb higher. Rats like you don't inspire envy, Jayan. Contempt, perhaps, but never envy."
Jayan's two allies, both defectors from the Azure Blossom Sect, stiffened visibly. One, a burly man with a scar across his chin, took a step forward, his fists clenched. "We joined because we saw the truth," he growled. "The Azure Blossom Sect was weak and doomed to collapse. We strengthened this sect with our knowledge and skills, yet you treat us like lepers."
Varos laughed, the sound harsh and derisive. "Strengthened? Don't make me laugh. The only thing you strengthened was your own coffers with the rewards you begged for."
"..."
The other two were silent, and it was Jayan who had broken the silence.
"Enough. Let's not waste any time with the pointless talk."
The tense silence hung heavily in the hall as Jayan's calm but cutting words settled between them. For a brief moment, even Varos seemed to hesitate, his sneer faltering under the weight of her icy demeanor. But his pride was not so easily silenced.
As Jayan turned sharply toward the doors, her two allies falling into step behind her, Varos's deep voice rang out once more, dripping with mockery. "You rats should stay here, as you are. The Crimson Serpent Sect has no need for traitors to dirty their hands. We're more than enough to deal with this matter."
Jayan paused mid-stride, her back to him, but she didn't bother turning around. "Do as you please, Varos," she said, her voice dismissive. "Your petty provocations don't concern me."
Her two allies exchanged glances, their expressions hardening in silent agreement. Without a word, they followed her out of the hall, their footsteps steady and unhurried, as if Varos's taunts were little more than the barking of an inconsequential dog.
Varos's sneer twisted into a grimace, his jaw clenching so tightly that the veins in his neck bulged. "Wretched wench," he muttered under his breath, his fists curling at his sides. "Let's see how long you can hold it in. Your arrogance will catch up with you, Jayan."
The wiry elder at his side smirked, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Shall we let her make a fool of herself, or do we follow? Wouldn't want her and her ilk taking credit for our work."
Varos let out a low growl, his sharp eyes narrowing. "She's desperate to prove her worth. If we move faster, we'll gather the credibility before she even gets a chance."
With that, Varos strode toward the doors, his heavy footsteps echoing in the grand hall. The remaining elders exchanged a final glance, their mutual disdain for the defectors evident, before following their leader. The large double doors groaned shut behind them, leaving the chamber empty save for the lingering tension.
But this was a fatal mistake.
A mistake that they would come to understand soon.
********
The thick silence following the elders' departure was broken by the faint rustling of foliage outside the Crimson Serpent Sect's grand entrance. From the shadows of the twisted ornamental bushes, a cloaked figure emerged, his movements so fluid and precise that it seemed the environment had shaped itself around his concealment.
The young man pulled back his hood, revealing a sharp, angular face partially obscured by the edge of the shadowed cloak. He brushed some stray leaves off the fabric, muttering to himself in a tone that carried both admiration and annoyance.
"This cloak really is something. Even a 4-star cultivator wouldn't notice me unless they deliberately focused their senses." His voice was soft, almost reflective, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
The silence of the night shattered as the heavy presence of the young man disrupted the stillness. From the guard post at the gate of the Crimson Serpent Sect, two sentinels stirred, their attention snapping toward the cloaked figure standing unnervingly still.
"Halt!" one barked, his voice steady but wary. The man's sharp features were partially obscured by his helm, but the tension in his stance was clear. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The other guard shifted, his grip tightening on the long spear he carried. His narrowed eyes scanned the stranger, suspicion flaring in his posture.
Before either could make another move, the young man's hand darted to his side, drawing a sleek, thin blade in a single fluid motion. The air around him seemed to quiver as the blade caught the dim light, a faint shimmer of black starlight dancing along its edge.
SWOOSH!
In one impossibly fast arc, the blade flashed, cutting through the silence. For a heartbeat, there was no sound—just the faint hum of the weapon slicing the air.
SPURT!
Blood sprayed out in twin arcs, painting the ground and gate in a macabre display. The two guards froze, their bodies rigid before their heads slipped from their shoulders, thudding onto the ground with a grim finality.
The young man sheathed his blade in one fluid motion, his expression calm, unbothered by the carnage he had just wrought. He glanced down at the bodies, the faintest hint of a smile curling his lips as though he had merely swept aside a minor inconvenience.
"Now," he murmured to himself, his tone almost conversational, "shall we erase the Crimson Serpent Sect?"
With that, he stepped through the gates, his cloak swirling behind him as he moved with inhuman speed. The sect grounds blurred around him, the world narrowing to the path ahead as he dashed through with purpose.
The faint shimmer of black starlight around his blade caught the torches' glow, leaving streaks of eerie luminance in the air as he dispatched each foe who dared to cross his path. Guards and disciples fell like leaves before the storm, their cries silenced before they could even echo.
Dash. Slash. Blood. Silence.
Chapter 321: Vaelric
Vaelric leaned back against his obsidian throne, his sharp gaze fixed on the broken woman before him. The room was dim, the torches casting flickering shadows that danced across the jagged walls. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by his quiet, mocking laughter.
PLAP! PLAP!
In the darkness, a silhouette of someone could be seen jumping up and down.
Vaelric moved closer, his shadow looming over her. His hand reached out, tracing the curve of her jaw with a mockery of gentleness. "Such beauty wasted on weakness," he murmured, his tone almost wistful. "You could have been so much more. Instead, you're nothing but a tool now… a broken one at that."
He crouched before her, tilting her face upward so their eyes met. For a moment, his expression softened—not with kindness, but with twisted satisfaction. He was in control. Here, in this moment, nothing could challenge him.
But then— snap.
Vaelric's head jerked up, his expression shifting instantly from smug to alert. Something was wrong. The air in the room had changed, carrying with it a faint hum of energy. His eyes narrowed as he focused, his senses sharpening.
"What?" he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. His gaze darted around the chamber, searching for the source of the disturbance.
The sensation grew stronger, a faint but unmistakable ripple of mana cutting through the oppressive air. It wasn't subtle—this was mana being used in significant amounts. Vaelric's expression darkened.
"Mana?" he said, his voice rising in disbelief. "This isn't a disciple… this is far too strong."
The energy pulsed again, sharper this time, like the beat of a war drum. Vaelric's breath hitched as he recognized the signature. The intensity was unmistakable—this was mana at the level of a 3-star Awakened, if not higher.
"An elder," Vaelric hissed, his mind racing. But the possibility didn't sit right with him. No elder would unleash their mana like this without his explicit command. His orders had been clear—discipline above all else.
His eyes widened as the realization hit him. "Someone is attacking."
In an instant, he was on his feet, his aura flaring as he surged with power. The oppressive force of his mana filled the chamber, the torches flickering wildly in response. His sharp gaze snapped to the woman before him, her lifeless expression unchanged.
"Out of my way," he growled, grabbing her bound form and throwing her aside like a rag doll. She landed heavily against the cold stone floor, unmoving.
Vaelric strode toward the door, his mind a storm of calculations and fury. If someone had breached his territory, if they dared to challenge the Crimson Serpent Sect within its own stronghold, they would pay for their audacity in blood.
Just then he sensed something.
SWOOSH!
Vaelric's hand shot to the hilt of his blade, drawing it in a single, fluid motion as his instincts screamed a warning.
CLANK!
The clash echoed through the chamber as steel met steel, sparks flying from the force of the impact. Vaelric's blade, a jagged, crimson-hued longsword, locked against the gleaming edge of another—a weapon shrouded in a faint, otherworldly glow.
"What?!" Vaelric snarled, his sharp eyes narrowing as he pressed back against the force of the strike. His opponent had appeared out of nowhere, their presence masked until the last possible moment.
The figure before him was cloaked in shadows, their face obscured by a hood that cast a veil of darkness over their features. But their stance, their precision, spoke volumes—they were no mere intruder.
Vaelric gritted his teeth as he forced the opposing blade aside, his aura flaring with fury. "Who dares to—"
But the figure didn't give him time to finish. They moved with inhuman speed, their blade darting toward him in a flurry of precise strikes.
CLANG! CLANG!
Vaelric barely managed to deflect the rapid assault, his movements sharp but strained as he matched the intruder's speed. His teeth clenched in frustration; whoever this was, they were no ordinary warrior. The sheer precision and ferocity of their strikes were unlike anything he'd encountered before.
"You'll regret this," Vaelric hissed, his voice a low growl as he parried another attack and countered with a sweeping slash of his own. His crimson blade ignited with a dark, fiery glow, the power of his mana coursing through it as he aimed to overwhelm the intruder with sheer force.
But the shadowed figure was undeterred. They twisted their body, narrowly avoiding the fiery arc of Vaelric's blade, and retaliated with a spinning strike aimed at his side.
Vaelric blocked again, the clash sending a jarring vibration through his arms. His fury grew as he realized he was being pushed onto the defensive. "Who are you?!" he demanded, his voice echoing through the chamber.
The figure tilted their head slightly, their hood casting deeper shadows over their face, but the faint sound of a chuckle escaped from within. It was light, almost playful, yet it carried an undercurrent of mockery that cut through the tension like a knife.
"Hmm… Who am I?" the figure mused aloud, their voice unmistakably young, perhaps belonging to someone in their early twenties. Despite its youthfulness, there was a sharpness to it—a taunting edge that made Vaelric's teeth clench.
"Does it matter?" the figure continued, their tone laced with teasing derision. They stepped forward, their blade shimmering with that same otherworldly glow. "You're going to die here after all, Vaelric."
The words hung in the air, each syllable dripping with confidence and contempt. Vaelric's fiery aura flared in response, his anger boiling over as he glared at the shadowed figure.
"You dare mock me?" Vaelric snarled, his voice a low, venomous growl. "You think this is a game, boy? You'll regret every word."
But the figure didn't flinch. Instead, they let out another soft laugh, the sound almost casual, as if Vaelric's rage was nothing more than a passing amusement.
"Oh, I'm counting on it," the young man replied, his blade shifting into a ready stance. The faint light surrounding it pulsed, the shadows in the room seeming to warp and dance around him. "Show me what the infamous Vaelric can do. Surely, the Crimson Serpent Sect's leader isn't all bark and no bite?"
Vaelric's eyes burned with fury, his jagged blade igniting with a fiery blaze as he lunged forward. "You'll regret underestimating me!"
The figure met his charge head-on, their blades clashing in a violent explosion of sparks and mana. The room trembled under the weight of their auras, the oppressive heat of Vaelric's fire battling against the eerie chill emanating from the figure's weapon.
CLANG! CLANG!
The strikes came fast and relentless, the two combatants moving in a deadly dance of steel and shadows. Vaelric's strength and fiery fury were matched by the figure's agility and precision, their movements fluid and unyielding.
"You talk big," Vaelric growled between strikes, his blade arcing in a brutal slash. "But words won't save you!"
"And yet," the figure countered, their voice calm and mocking as they sidestepped the attack, "here I am, still standing."
The exchange only fueled Vaelric's rage, but there was a flicker of unease in his mind. The figure wasn't just taunting him—they were playing with him, every movement precise and deliberate, as if they were studying his every move.
Vaelric's mind raced, his sharp instincts screaming warnings that couldn't be ignored. He didn't know if there were others lurking in his stronghold, waiting to strike, but it didn't matter.
'No one would dare to strike the Crimson Serpent Sect alone… This one must have allies,' he thought grimly, his grip tightening on his jagged, crimson blade. 'If I let this drag on, the consequences could be catastrophic. I need to end this now.'
His aura flared violently, the oppressive heat of his mana filling the chamber as he began channeling his energy. The crimson glow surrounding him darkened and intensified, coiling around his blade like a living entity. His lips curled into a vicious snarl as he uttered the name of his ultimate technique.
"Crimson Serpent Ascension."
The air around him seemed to ignite as the energy coalesced into the form of a massive serpent, its body a writhing construct of molten flames and concentrated mana. The serpent's eyes glowed with a fiery menace, its fangs bared as it hissed, ready to strike.
The figure before him didn't flinch. Instead, they tilted their head slightly, as if curious. "A big snake, is it?" they mused, their tone mocking despite the overwhelming pressure of Vaelric's attack. "How very fitting."
Vaelric's fury boiled over. With a roar, he surged forward, the serpent of flames coiling and striking in tandem with his blade. The room trembled under the force of the attack, the serpent's fiery maw snapping toward the shadowed figure with deadly precision.
"Let's see you dodge this!" Vaelric bellowed, his voice filled with both rage and desperation.
The serpent's fiery body lunged, its blazing heat warping the air as it bore down on the intruder. The figure, however, didn't move. They stood perfectly still, their blade lowered, as if waiting for the inevitable.
And then, at the last possible moment—
SWOOSH!
The figure moved.
Chapter 322: Vaelric (2)
The figure remained still until the serpent's fiery maw was nearly upon them. Then, with a single, deliberate step, they moved.
First Movement.
The figure's blade traced a wide, sweeping arc, a ring of black starlight flaring to life as the motion completed. The ring pulsed with an eerie energy, dark and radiant at the same time, as though it devoured the light around it. The starlight ring caught the fiery serpent mid-lunge, constricting its blazing form as if an invisible chain had bound it.
The serpent hissed and writhed, its fiery coils struggling against the encircling starlight, but the figure held firm, their blade steady as they maintained the ring's pressure. The flames dimmed slightly, their brilliance choked by the oppressive force of the black energy.
Second Movement.
The figure shifted seamlessly into their next motion, their blade slashing upward in a clean, vertical strike. The glow of their weapon intensified, and as it cut through the fiery serpent, the creature let out a deafening roar. The room trembled as the blade cleaved the molten construct in two, the fiery halves splitting apart with a burst of sparks and embers.
Vaelric's eyes widened in disbelief as the remnants of his ultimate technique dissolved into nothingness, the oppressive heat replaced by the chilling presence of the figure's starlight-infused blade.
Third Movement.
Without hesitation, the figure lunged forward, his blade snapping into a precise, lightning-fast thrust. The black starlight surrounding it condensed into a single, concentrated point at the tip, the energy shimmering like a dark star.
"Void Starfall Blade: Starlight Needle," they intoned, their voice calm and deliberate as the blade shot toward Vaelric's chest.
The overwhelming danger was immediate and undeniable. Vaelric's instincts screamed, his body moving before his mind could process. He forced himself to leap back, the motion abrupt and strained.
CRACK!
The energy of the Starlight Needle grazed his side, the mere proximity of its power sending a searing pain through his body. Vaelric landed heavily, coughing up blood as he clutched his ribs. His fiery aura flickered erratically, his body trembling from the strain of forcefully canceling his earlier technique.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he glared at the figure, his voice a hoarse snarl. "WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"
The figure tilted their head slightly, their stance relaxed despite the chaos. The glow of their blade dimmed, but their presence remained no less menacing.
"Who I am…" the figure murmured, their voice tinged with mocking amusement. "Does it really matter to you, Vaelric?" They stepped closer, their dark aura pressing down on him like a suffocating weight. "Your end is near. What difference would knowing make?"
Vaelric's mind raced, fear and anger twisting in his gut. This wasn't just an intruder. Whoever this person was, they weren't here by accident. They had come with purpose. And Vaelric, for all his power, was now acutely aware of how close he was to losing everything.
His chest heaved as he forced himself upright, the searing pain in his ribs threatening to pull him back down. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but his fiery amber eyes burned with a desperate resolve. He couldn't afford to hesitate.
In battles of this level, seconds decided everything. Hesitation meant death. It was a principle he had lived by and one that had carried him to his current strength. Now, it would be tested more than ever before.
"Damn it," he hissed, his voice hoarse but steady. With a sharp movement, he reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small, gleaming pill—a precious Emberheart Revival Pill, crafted to heal wounds and restore vitality in an instant. It was a treasure he had hoarded for years, only to be used in moments of absolute desperation.
BITE!
The pill crunched between his teeth, releasing a rush of burning energy through his body. Vaelric let out a sharp exhale as the warmth spread, dulling the pain in his ribs and steadying his trembling limbs. His aura flared brighter, crackling like an inferno as the pill did its work.
He straightened, his grip tightening around his blade. "No holding back," he muttered. "Not now."
SWOOSH!
In an instant, he launched himself forward, his fiery aura trailing behind him like a blazing comet. His opponent's calm figure loomed closer, their silhouette sharp against the flickering light of the torches. Vaelric's gaze narrowed, his entire being focused on one final, decisive strike.
"Hydra Ascension of Crimson!" he roared, his voice carrying the weight of his determination.
The technique was his ultimate move, a culmination of his years of training and mastery. Mana surged from his core, flooding through his veins in a torrent of fiery energy. His blade ignited, a serpent of flame coiling around its length as he swung it forward with everything he had. The flames roared like a living beast, the serpent's fangs aimed directly at his enemy's heart.
The chamber was engulfed in a blinding blaze, the heat searing even the stone walls. The ground beneath them cracked and splintered as Vaelric's strike tore through the air with devastating force. He knew this attack would leave him drained, his core nearly empty, but he didn't care. Victory required sacrifice, and this was his only chance.
But then—
The figure moved once again.
SWISH.
The blinding blaze of Vaelric's technique illuminated the chamber, casting wild shadows on the cracked stone walls. His fiery serpent roared forward, its three heads twisting and snapping with lethal intent. This was his trump card, his absolute strongest move.
And yet, the figure remained composed, their movements deliberate as they stepped into the storm.
First Movement: The Starlight Ring
The figure's estoc moved in a precise, circular motion, their wrist rotating effortlessly as the blade traced a glowing ring of black starlight. The ring surged outward, coiling around one of the serpent's heads like an iron collar. The flaming maw thrashed and snapped, but the starlight constricted tighter, snuffing it out with a hiss.
Vaelric's eyes narrowed, a grin spreading across his bloodied lips. "You think that's enough?" he spat, his voice hoarse but defiant. "There are still two more!"
The remaining two heads of the serpent lunged forward, their fiery jaws snapping with savage force. They twisted in tandem, aiming to encircle the figure from both sides.
"Heh…" Vaelric chuckled darkly, confident he had outmaneuvered them. "Let's see you stop this."
Second Movement: Starline.
The figure's feet shifted, their body twisting with a fluid grace that defied the chaos around them. Their estoc came up in a sharp, vertical slash, the black starlight surging along its length. The blade seemed to extend, its shadowy energy slicing cleanly through the nearest serpent head.
SWISH! CRACK!
The flaming head burst into embers, the energy dissipating into the air. Without pausing, the figure pivoted on their back foot, their arm swinging low in a sweeping arc to meet the final head.
Third Movement: The Void Pierces All
The last head roared toward them, its fiery maw wide open as if to devour them whole. The figure's estoc darted forward in a deadly thrust, black starlight condensing at the tip in a concentrated burst of destructive energy.
The motion was precise: their left foot angled slightly outward for balance, their torso leaning forward as their arm extended in a straight, powerful line. The blade pierced the serpent's head directly between its fiery eyes, and the concentrated energy erupted outward in a sharp, resonant blast.
BOOM!
The final head shattered, the remnants of Vaelric's ultimate technique vanishing into sparks and fading flames.
Vaelric staggered back, his wide eyes reflecting disbelief. He clutched his blade tightly, his knuckles white. "Impossible…" he muttered, his voice trembling. "Someone this strong is here? Why?"
Vaelric's legs trembled as he tried to steady himself, his fiery aura flickering weakly around him. His eyes darted toward the enemy, his mind racing with questions that clawed at his sanity.
"Why?" he spat, his voice trembling with a mixture of fury and despair. "Why is someone like you here? Why are you targeting me?"
The figure stood still, their calm demeanor unshaken by Vaelric's outburst. Their dark, shadow-cloaked aura seemed to consume the very air around them, an oppressive void that defied reason. Slowly, a small, faint smile curved their lips.
Then, from the shadows above, a sleek figure leapt down onto the man's shoulder with eerie grace.
Vaelric's eyes widened in horror. "No…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. His gaze locked onto the creature perched on the man's shoulder—a lithe, silvery feline with eyes like shimmering stars.
The cat tilted its head, its ethereal presence unmistakable.
"Vitaliara!" Vaelric roared, his voice echoing with desperation and disbelief. "You… you're here?! You've aligned with him?!"
The man's smile grew slightly, and his free hand rose to gently stroke Vitaliara's fur. The guardian beast purred softly, its celestial aura glowing faintly in response.
Vaelric's breath hitched, his mind spiraling. This was it—the culmination of everything he had feared. The beast he had spent so long hunting, the key to his salvation, was not only alive but had turned against him.
"You—" Vaelric began, his voice breaking.
"Goodbye," the figure interrupted, their tone calm, almost mocking.
The estoc surged forward, cloaked in a cascade of black starlight. The energy was blinding, a concentrated void of destruction that seemed to bend reality itself. Vaelric barely had time to react as the blade pierced his chest with deadly precision.
"Huh?" The word escaped his lips, a faint, confused exhale as the world seemed to slow. He looked down, his amber eyes widening as he saw the dark energy swirling around the wound. Heat began to radiate from his core, a searing intensity that spread rapidly through his body.
The figure stepped back, pulling the blade free with a smooth motion. Vaelric staggered, his hands clutching at his chest as the heat intensified. His fiery aura sputtered, flickering wildly before it was consumed entirely by the dark energy now coursing through him.
"No…" he gasped, his voice a broken whisper. "No, this can't…"
But before he could finish the thought, his body erupted in a violent explosion of black and crimson light. The force shattered the stone floor beneath him, sending shockwaves through the chamber.
Vaelric's final moments were consumed by the searing heat and the realization that he had lost—not just the battle, but everything.
Chapter 323: A Mother's Strength
Lucavion stood over the charred and broken remains of Vaelric, his estoc still faintly glowing with the remnants of black starlight. The air was thick with the acrid smell of ash and mana residue, a stark reminder of the battle that had just unfolded. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
'Now, he is dead,' Lucavion thought to himself, his tone devoid of satisfaction or regret. It was simply a fact, cold and unyielding.
[Yeah…] Vitaliara's voice entered his mind, soft yet weighted. She perched on his shoulder, her ethereal presence both comforting and disquieting. Her golden eyes, usually so vibrant, now shimmered with an unspoken conflict.
Vaelric's body, or what remained of it, lay sprawled on the fractured obsidian floor. He was the architect of so much destruction—the one who had torn apart the Azure Blossom Sect and forced Vitaliara to flee into the shadows. And yet, even in death, his presence lingered like a ghost, heavy and inescapable.
Lucavion's gaze remained fixed on Vaelric's remains, his mind as calm as the still air around him. The faint hum of his [Flame of Equinox] echoed softly in his ears, the flickering black fire surrounding his estoc dying down slowly. He felt the pull of something lingering—an afterimage of power, a dark residue that clung to the ruins of Vaelric's form.
Vitalaira leapt gracefully from his shoulder to the ground, her golden eyes locked onto the crumpled remains. Her fur shimmered faintly, her celestial energy responding to the oppressive weight of death that filled the air.
She turned to him, her voice a whisper carried by the stillness. [Absorb him.]
Lucavion's lips curved into a slight smirk, a familiar edge of mischief in his dark eyes. "Straight to the point, huh?" But there was no real jest in his tone. He understood her meaning entirely. The energy coursing through Vaelric's body was potent—raw, untapped, and born of years of cultivation. It would not go to waste.
Without hesitation, he raised his estoc, the blade reigniting with a ripple of black starlight. The [Flame of Equinox] coiled and writhed along its length, its dual nature—a balance of life and death—ready to consume the remnants of Vaelric's power.
The flame flickered before surging outward, stretching like a living tendril toward the remains. As it made contact, the mana residue erupted in a burst of crimson light, the final resistance of Vaelric's fading will.
The energy recoiled before succumbing, drawn inexorably into the hungry flames. Lucavion felt the surge of power the moment it entered him—a rush of vitality mingled with the essence of death, rich and potent. His breath hitched as his body absorbed it, the intensity of Vaelric's mid-4-star realm power overwhelming for a brief moment.
'This energy...' he thought, his smirk fading as his focus sharpened. It was intoxicating, almost alive, coursing through his veins and sinking deep into the very core of his being. It wasn't just raw power—it carried the weight of Vaelric's battles, his cruelty, his ambitions.
The rush was both a gift and a curse, a reminder of what it took to claim strength in a world so unforgiving.
Vitalaira's flames rose beside his, and a faint shimmer of ethereal light added to the scene. She observed the process with an unreadable expression, her voice entering his thoughts once more.
[You knew what he was. You knew the value of his death.]
Lucavion nodded faintly, his gaze not leaving the swirling flames. 'Of course, I knew. A mid 4-star realm cultivator doesn't come around every day.' His tone carried a quiet confidence, but beneath it was the sharp edge of calculation. 'That's why I brought the mercenaries. Without them dividing his forces, I would've faced a gauntlet just to get here. A risk worth taking... but one that could've ended in my death.'
He clenched his fist as the flames settled, their energy coalescing within him. His body pulsed with newfound strength, the essence of Vaelric's death now his to wield. The sensation was both satisfying and sobering—a reminder of the cost of power.
Vitaliara's golden eyes flickered toward him, her tail curling slightly as she absorbed his thoughts. [You're always calculating, aren't you? Even now.]
Lucavion allowed himself a small chuckle, lowering his estoc as the last remnants of Vaelric's energy faded into him. "Calculating? I wouldn't say that. Practical? Absolutely. If I hadn't been, we wouldn't be standing here."
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before shifting back to the smoldering remnants. [It's fitting, in a way,] she said softly. [That the power he used to destroy so much is now the foundation of something greater.]
Lucavion's smirk returned, his confidence tempered with a rare note of reflection. "Fitting or ironic... I'll take it either way."
THUD!
Just then someone moved right at that moment.
Lucavion's smirk disappeared, replaced by a sharp, calculated expression as the sound reverberated through the chamber. He turned toward the noise, his estoc steady in his hand. Vitaliara perched back onto his shoulder, her ethereal body tense, the glow in her golden eyes flickering with unease.
The source of the disturbance was clear now—a figure leaning heavily against a crumbled column at the far end of the chamber. Her silhouette was striking, despite the state she was in. Long black hair cascaded down her back in a tangled mess, her figure voluptuous yet marred by countless bruises and scars. Her hood partially obscured her face, but her grey eyes were unmistakable, dull and hollow, like windows to a shattered soul.
Lucavion approached her slowly, the echo of his boots the only sound. Vitaliara's voice trembled in his mind, [Gabriela?] Her disbelief carried the weight of recognition and sorrow, yet it was laced with hesitation as if she couldn't bear to confirm what her eyes saw.
Lucavion stopped just short of the woman, his eyes narrowing. He could see the faint rise and fall of her chest, the labored breaths of someone who had endured far more than their share of suffering. She stirred slightly, her head tilting toward him with an effort that seemed to cost her what little strength she had left.
"Ah….."
The woman named Gabriela's lips parted, a faint sound escaping her as her eyes focused with growing clarity. Her gaze shifted past Lucavion and landed on Vitaliara, who stood at his side, her celestial fur glowing faintly as if responding to the woman's presence.
"Lady Vitaliara..." Gabriela's voice cracked, hoarse and strained, each word seemingly pulled from the depths of her exhaustion. Despite her weakened state, there was a faint reverence in her tone, a whisper of who she once was.
Lucavion's brow furrowed as he glanced at Vitaliara, his mind already racing to connect the threads of this unexpected encounter. "You know her?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.
Vitaliara's golden eyes shimmered, her tail curling tightly around her small frame. [I do,] she replied, her voice soft yet heavy with emotion. She stepped closer to Gabriela, her movements deliberate, as if she were approaching a sacred memory. [She is… or was… Gabriela Ailthane, Sect Master of the Azure Blossom Sect. My aide.]
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, studying Gabriela with a slight sense. "That sect?" His tone was neutral, but his gaze sharpened as he considered the implications. A mid-4-star warrior reduced to this—it was both a testament to her strength and a grim reminder of the devastation wrought by Vaelric.
Gabriela's breath hitched at the mention of Vaelric, her body trembling faintly. She clutched the edge of her tattered cloak, her fingers weak but determined. "You… you've slain him?" she rasped, her grey eyes searching Lucavion's face as though seeking confirmation.
Lucavion nodded, his smirk returning, albeit tempered by gravity. "He's gone. Permanently. You have my word."
A fleeting spark of relief flickered in Gabriela's eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wave of pain. She slumped further against the column, her strength waning.
Vitaliara leaped to her side, nuzzling Gabriela's arm with a gentleness Lucavion rarely saw in her. [Rest, Gabriela. You're safe now.]
Lucavion's sharp gaze held steady as he observed Gabriela, her trembling form slumped against the column. Despite Vitaliara's attempt to offer comfort, the celestial creature's efforts seemed to dissipate in the heavy silence. Gabriela's grey eyes stared blankly past them both, devoid of light, of hope, of any tether to the world around her.
Lucavion took a step back, his expression hardening. "I see..." he murmured, his voice low and measured. He studied her carefully, noting the utter hollowness in her gaze. Her body remained upright by sheer force of habit, but her spirit—her very essence—was gone.
Her eyes told him everything. They were the eyes of someone who had lost everything, someone who had been drained of the will to fight, to dream, to live. Lucavion knew those eyes all too well; he had seen them in countless souls broken by the weight of a cruel world.
"...You are gone," he whispered, the words heavy with understanding and finality.
Gabriela didn't react. She didn't flinch, didn't acknowledge his presence. She remained a fragile shell, a ghost of who she once was. Her silence only solidified what Lucavion already knew.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his estoc. Slowly, deliberately, he drew the blade from its sheath, its dark metal catching the dim light of the chamber. The [Flame of Equinox] flickered faintly along the edge, a soft hum of life and death coiling in harmony.
"Then," Lucavion said, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of sorrow, "let me grant you the end you long for."