Chapter 46: Xal’veth - Lucien

"Professor... from the Magic Academy?" Lathel muttered, panting as if utterly exhausted, his eyes heavy with fatigue, barely able to stay open. "That’s right," Lyra replied, her gaze focusing on the spear in Lathel’s hand before turning back to him. "Don’t worry, I won’t harm you." Lathel was still gasping for breath, his hand trembling as if he were using all his strength just to hold the spear. He spoke weakly, "How... can I... trust you?" Lyra took out a white badge, which immediately shone with a brilliant light. "I’m sure you recognize the badge of the Magic Academy, don’t you?" Lyra said. At last, Lathel nodded, reassured, and slowly lowered his spear, struggling to speak, "Please... save them..." Lyra glanced at Selvia and Mira’s condition, her eyes widening in shock. Her face, usually calm and emotionless, now betrayed genuine disbelief, as if she’d just witnessed something truly unimaginable. But she quickly composed herself, saying, "You should worry about yourself first. You’re too badly injured, you need—" "No!" Lathel forced out, raising his voice as much as he could. "Save them! Save them first! I’m fine... please... I..." He couldn’t finish the sentence before falling into unconsciousness. Seeing this, Lyra hurriedly pulled a small vial from her bag, uncorked it, and poured the liquid into his mouth. As soon as the medicine entered, it dissolved instantly. The wounds on Lathel’s body stopped bleeding, and even the smaller injuries began to heal. Lyra pressed her fingertip to his forehead. Where her finger touched Lathel’s brow, a flash of light appeared. Lyra frowned, then let out a relieved sigh. "Thank goodness he’s all right. His willpower is incredible—for him to be so badly wounded, and still fight to protect these two girls..." "She’s just his maid, yet he was willing to risk his own life to protect her." "It seems... the rumors about Prince Lathel of the Kingdom of Terith are true. A compassionate and magnanimous prince." Lyra glanced at Lathel, gently brushing aside the golden hair that covered his handsome face. "If everyone were like you, the world would be a far more beautiful place." ... In a strange space. At that moment, Elisova and Vladirovic were standing together in a realm shrouded in mist—dark, oppressive, and saturated with a sinister energy. In that shadowy space, their white robes seemed almost blinding. "Anomaly... Lathel..." A voice suddenly rang out, as if spoken by many people at once, distorted and bizarre like it was coming through an old radio, yet still filled with majesty and divinity. "Eliminate him... before he matures." Indeed, it was the voice of Xal’veth. Vladirovic suddenly spoke: "Great Xal’veth, if a useless branch cannot stop this raging storm, then... perhaps we can make use of him, can we not?" "Right now, Lathel is heading toward the Magic Academy, planning to duel Lucien. We could use Lucien and turn the academy into our chessboard." "Lucien..." Xal’veth replied, accompanied by a sound like the call of giant whales echoing from the depths of the sea: "He’s still too weak... Lathel... is not as worthless as we thought." Vladirovic waved his hand, and an ancient goatskin scroll appeared before him. He smiled confidently, bowing his head. "Great Xal’veth, please trust in the story I am about to weave. I promise... this will be a performance that pleases you." "Besides, how could someone like him possibly trouble the great Xal’veth? He’s nothing more than an ordinary mortal." Vladirovic shrugged, as if the matter was less than trivial. "Let me play with him a little, make my script a bit more interesting, yes?" Xal’veth was silent for a moment, then spoke: "I leave him to you." With that, Xal’veth vanished. "Don’t underestimate him," Elisova suddenly said. "He’s not as simple as he seems." "The strange power he wields didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Maybe... he’s been hiding that strength for a long time. And his character isn’t quite what we thought, either." "Hahaha..." Vladirovic waved his hand, and the scroll floating in midair unfurled, stretching out endlessly. He laughed and said, "Elisova, pick a script. Let me show you a truly interesting play." Elisova didn’t respond to his invitation, but instead asked, "You’re planning to use Lucien, aren’t you?" "That’s right." Vladirovic clasped his hands behind his back, strolling through the mist as if on a leisurely walk. "After all, he’s the wolf we’ve been raising, and it’s time to teach him how to hunt." "A bit of motivation, a bit of hatred, and a dash of conflict. Those are the perfect spices for our drama, wouldn’t you say?" Elisova raised the lily in her hand, gently caressing it. Since she wore a mask, her expression was hidden. After a moment, she said, "Let’s hope you don’t fail." "Hahaha..." Vladirovic burst out laughing, then replied, "Failure isn’t so bad—it just makes things more interesting. If the play was boring, and everyone knew the ending, then it would be a true failure." Elisova glanced at him, then turned and walked away without another word. Vladirovic watched her go, a proud, excited smile lighting up his face. "I’m really looking forward to this performance... Lathel... Lucien..." ... "Where is this?" Lucien slowly opened his eyes, finding himself in a black space thick with frigid mist. He looked around, frowning, and muttered, "Where...?" "AGH!" Suddenly, a stranger’s scream startled him. Lucien looked toward the source and saw shadowy figures moving within the fog, as if people were running. There were many people, and in the distance, the silhouettes of houses engulfed in flames. Although the mist concealed much, Lucien could clearly see it was a village being consumed by a savage fire. Shadowy forms flitted about like gusts of wind, mercilessly reaping the lives of villagers desperately trying to escape the inferno. "It’s burning!" "Run!" "My child! My family! My house!" "Huhuhu... Mother... Father..." "Help! Somebody help me!" Desperate cries from the villagers, the weeping of children, echoed throughout the space. Seeing this, Lucien rushed forward: "Don’t worry, I’m here to save you." He didn’t care if this was just an illusion or a trap—he simply couldn’t stand by and watch people be swallowed by the sea of flames. However, Lucien soon realized something strange—no matter how fast he ran, the distance between himself and those shadowy figures never changed. It was as if he were watching an old black-and-white film—he could only observe, unable to intervene or affect anything happening on the screen. "No! What the hell is going on?" Lucien shouted, "Stop! Stop, now!" But no matter how desperately he screamed, the fire kept consuming everything. Everyone was swallowed by those terrifying flames. The screams gradually faded, not because anyone had been saved, but because there was no one left alive to scream. Those who weren’t burned alive were cut down by the shadowy figures—throats slit, hearts pierced. It could be said... there was not a single soul left alive here. Silence. A silence so cold and dreadful it was suffocating. Lucien gasped for breath, collapsing onto the ground, clenching his teeth. "Damn it! What the hell is going on?" "Lucien..." Suddenly, a woman’s voice called out. Startled, Lucien looked up. There, beyond layers of mist, the silhouette of a woman slowly appeared. Though he couldn’t see her face, Lucien could sense her suffering, her tears, and an overwhelming hatred emanating from her. Thump! Thump! Thump! He could feel his heart pounding—not out of fear, but from a deep, gnawing discomfort. His blood seemed to boil with anger, his eyes burning red with a rage barely contained. "Who... who are you?" Lucien demanded, clutching his chest to steady his heartbeat, his gaze fixed warily on the woman’s shadow. Thud! "Huh?!" Suddenly, the woman dropped to her knees, startling Lucien. "What... what are you doing?" The woman sobbed, then spoke through her tears, "Lucien... my name is Anna, one of those who died in the merciless fire you just witnessed." Lucien frowned, unsettled. "What does that have to do with me? Why did you come to find me?" Anna wept for a moment longer before continuing, "Lucien... I... The great Xal’veth showed me the way to you. I want to ask you... to avenge me, to avenge all the innocent villagers." "What do you mean?" Lucien could feel his heartbeat refusing to calm—instead, it was pounding faster than before. Anna gritted her teeth, her voice filled with bitter hatred: "The whole village... he killed them all. Children... the elderly... women... even the livestock... all of them, slaughtered." "Him?" Lucien trembled, a growing sense of horror clawing at him, as if he was about to hear something truly terrifying. "That’s right." Anna’s voice rose to a furious roar, twisted and hoarse with hate: "The one who killed everyone... was Lathel!"