The gaunt ‘s mouth hung open, her disbelief plain. She struggled to form words, her gaze darting between Lucavion and the faint glow of his [Flame of Equinox] that still lingered on the blade.
“You… you killed him?” she stammered, her voice hoarse and incredulous. “Don’t lie! How could you possibly—he was a peak 4-star warrior!” Her voice rose, trembling with desperation. “This is no time for jokes. You don’t understand—Vaelric was more monster than man! If he’s gone, it wasn’t by someone like you.”
Lucavion tilted his head, his expression calm but edged with faint amusement. “That’s quite the endorsement for his strength, but unfortunately for him, he underestimated mine. Vaelric’s body lies in pieces several floors above us.”
The woman’s lips parted again as if to argue, but no words came. Her gaze fixed on Lucavion’s youthful face, her brows knitting in disbelief. “You’re lying,” she muttered, shaking her head, as if denying the possibility would make it less real. “You… you can’t have.”
“Ah, yes,” Lucavion said, his tone turning light with mock indignation. “How could a mere ‘youngster’ like me pull it off? Perhaps it was a stroke of luck, or maybe—just maybe—I’m not as ordinary as you think.”
Her hands tightened around the restraints still binding her. “Stop joking!” she snapped, her desperation cutting through her disbelief. “Run now, while you can! You’ve done enough. Save yourself, save Lady Vitaliara! We can endure this—we always have.”
Lucavion’s smirk deepened, the faint glow of his [Flame of Equinox] reflecting in his dark eyes. His tone softened but carried an unyielding edge as he replied, “I refuse.”
The gaunt girl—Ilyana, as Vitaliara had identified her—blinked, startled. “Huh?”
Lucavion took a deliberate step closer, leaning slightly forward as though about to deliver some grand declaration. “If there’s one thing—”
[Stop it,] Vitaliara interrupted sharply, her celestial form hopping to perch directly in front of his face. Her golden eyes glared at him with exasperation. [We don’t have time for your eccentric poses, Lucavion.]
Lucavion sighed dramatically, drawing himself upright and looking distinctly unimpressed. “You’re no fun, you know,” he muttered, though the amusement in his eyes betrayed his mock indignation. “A little flair never hurt anyone.”
He shifted his focus back to the woman, his expression softening but losing none of its resolve. “Ilyana, was it?” he asked, his voice steady but commanding.
She hesitated, her lips trembling slightly. “Yes…”
“Good,” Lucavion replied, inclining his head. “Stay here. I’ve already freed the others. Until I come back for you, don’t leave this chamber. Get it?”
“Wa—” she began, her voice wavering with protest.
“Get it?” Lucavion’s tone sharpened just enough to leave no room for argument.
Ilyana faltered, her shoulders sagging as she lowered her gaze. “…Understood.”
“Good,” Lucavion said, the faintest curve of satisfaction on his lips. Without another word, he turned on his heel, his estoc gleaming faintly in the dim light as he strode toward the exit.
Vitaliara leapt gracefully to his shoulder, her golden tail flicking as she glanced back at Ilyana, who stood frozen in place. [We’ll return soon. Stay strong.] Her voice carried a comforting warmth, but her eyes mirrored Lucavion’s resolve.
Lucavion moved swiftly through the oppressive corridor, his boots striking the stone floor with purpose. His mind focused entirely on the task ahead, he ascended the spiraling staircase toward the upper levels, where more of the sect awaited their reckoning. Behind him, the faint echoes of prisoners stirring in their chambers were a testament to the hope he and Vitaliara had rekindled.
‘Hope,’ Lucavion mused to himself, his lips quirking into a faint smile. ‘Let’s see if it burns as brightly for the rest of you as it does for her.’
*******
The pounding of hooves echoed through the darkened streets of Thornridge as the two factions of elders tore through the city, each group vying to reach their targets first. The tension between them lingered like an unspoken curse, pushing them faster, harder, their breaths visible in the cold night air.
Elder Varos, leading the group of Crimson Serpent Sect originals, glanced over his shoulder at his two companions. “Stay sharp. The rats from the Azure Blossom Sect may be racing ahead, but they’ll only find death if they aren’t careful.”
The wiry elder smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Let them rush in blindly. We’ll clean up their mess and take all the credit.”
Elder Jayan’s group was equally focused, though their approach carried an air of icy determination rather than reckless haste. Her scarred companion growled as he urged his steed forward. “They’re trying to beat us to the target. Arrogant fools.”
“They’ll trip over themselves before they achieve anything meaningful,” Jayan replied, her voice calm but edged with steel. “We’re here to finish this efficiently. Keep your focus on the task.”
The streets narrowed as both groups veered toward their respective targets, their paths converging toward the same district. The scent of burning wood and the faint tang of blood grew stronger as they rode, the chaos of the mercenaries’ attacks becoming increasingly evident.
It was Elder Varos’s group that first sensed it—a sharp spike of mana cutting through the ambient energy of the night. The air around them seemed to shiver with the force of an unleashed spell, and moments later, the distant clash of steel against steel rang out like a battle cry.
Varos pulled his horse to an abrupt halt, his hulking frame tense as he scanned the darkness ahead. “Do you feel that?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
The wiry elder nodded, his smirk replaced by a predatory gleam. “Someone’s using mana. And those are blades I hear.”
Varos gripped the hilt of his axe, his knuckles whitening. “We’ve found them.”
Not far behind, Jayan and her group came to a similar realization. Her scarred ally tightened his grip on the reins, his eyes narrowing. “They’re close. The mana is faint but unmistakable.”
Jayan raised a hand, signaling for silence. Her silver-streaked hair shimmered in the moonlight as she tilted her head, listening intently. The faint sound of clashing blades carried through the cold night air, accompanied by occasional bursts of mana pressure.
“They’re here,” she said softly, her voice steady. “We’ll approach from the flank. Let Varos and his dogs charge in if they want. We’ll take the lead when it matters.”
Her companions exchanged grim nods, their weapons drawn as they dismounted and moved forward on foot. The shadows of Thornridge’s narrow alleys swallowed them, their movements silent and calculated.
Varos, true to his brash nature, wasted no time. With a sharp motion, he signaled his group to follow, his booming voice cutting through the tension. “Move! We’ll crush them before the Azure Blossom rats can even lift their blades!”
The wiry elder chuckled darkly. “They won’t even have time to realize what hit them.”
Their heavy footfalls echoed through the winding streets as they closed in on the source of the noise. The scent of blood grew stronger, mingling with the acrid tang of burning mana. As they rounded a corner, the scene unfolded before them.
In a narrow courtyard, dimly lit by a flickering lantern, a group of mercenaries clashed with Crimson Serpent Sect disciples. The disciples were clearly outmatched, their crimson robes streaked with blood as the mercenaries moved with deadly precision. The mercenaries worked in seamless tandem, their movements honed and efficient, each strike calculated to maim or kill.
One mercenary, a towering figure wielding a halberd, brought his weapon down in a devastating arc, cleaving through a disciple’s defenses. Another, a lithe woman with daggers, danced through the chaos, her blades flashing as they found their marks.
“Mercenaries,” Varos hissed, his grip tightening on his axe. “There they are.”
BOOM!
The clash of steel and the crackling surge of mana filled the courtyard, but it was the distant boom that snapped Varos’s attention away from the scene before him. His sharp eyes darted to the horizon, where faint bursts of light illuminated another section of Thornridge. The unmistakable flare of mana reached his senses—a potent energy signature that could not be ignored.
“Another group,” Varos growled, his voice thick with irritation. He turned to the wiry elder at his side. “You take these fools. I’m heading to the other location.”
The wiry elder nodded, his smirk returning. “I’ll finish this before you even arrive at your next fight.”
Varos snorted, gripping the hilt of his axe as he turned sharply. His heavy frame belied his speed as he launched himself into motion, his body propelled by the practiced movements of qinggong techniques. His form blurred as he leapt onto a nearby rooftop, his mana-infused steps carrying him across the city with unnatural agility.
Not far behind, Jayan and her two allies crouched in the shadows, watching the chaos unfold. Her silver-streaked hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight as she observed the mercenaries with a calculated gaze. She opened her mouth to signal her next move, but another explosion rocked the air, followed by a distant roar of flames.
Her scarred companion grimaced. “They’re spread out. This is coordinated.”
“Deliberately so,” Jayan replied, her voice calm but sharp. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the faint pulses of mana rippling through the air from multiple directions. “They’re dividing us.”
The burly elder clenched his fists, his scarred chin lifting. “Should we regroup?”
“No.” Jayan’s response was swift and decisive. “We’ll cover more ground if we split. Stay focused and don’t let their chaos dictate our actions.”
Her companions nodded, their confidence in her unshaken. The scarred elder tightened his gauntlets, his body radiating mana as he prepared to move. “I’ll handle the east,” he said, his voice steady.
The burly elder cracked his knuckles, a grim smile on his lips. “West is mine.”
Jayan nodded curtly. “Move fast and don’t engage longer than necessary. Leave no loose ends.”
Just like that, the fight in the city continued.