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.”