The Velkan Commander, still recovering from the King’s earlier wrath, gritted his teeth and nodded. With his sword drawn, he marched toward the disturbance.
As the commander approached the camp, the first thing he noticed was the silence.
The usual chatter, the sound of metal against metal, the flickering torches—all gone.
Then—he saw them.
Bodies. Everywhere.
His soldiers, his men, lay in the dirt—some missing limbs, others with their throats torn open. Some were still twitching, their last breaths gurgling in agony.
And in the middle of it all—stood him.
Lucian.
The Commander’s lips curled into a grin.
“Well, well. Look who decided to come back from the dead.”
Lucian slowly turned, his bloodstained face illuminated by the moon. His crimson eyes glowed in the dark. He stood among the corpses like a god of war, soaked in the blood of his enemies.
Their gazes locked.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then—the Commander’s grin widened.
"I''ve been waiting for this."
He lunged forward, sword flashing under the pale light.
The battle began.
Swords clashed.
Sparks flew.
Lucian moved like a shadow, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.
The Commander met him strike for strike, his strength undeniable.
At first—they were evenly matched.
Lucian dodged left, blade singing through the air. The Commander blocked—countered with a downward slash.
Lucian twisted away—narrowly avoiding his ribs being split open.
A grin stretched across the Commander’s face.
He loved this.
The thrill. The blood. The fight.
Then—he pushed forward.
Lucian parried—but barely.
The Commander’s attacks grew faster. More brutal.
Lucian blocked a strike—but his wrist buckled under the force.
Then—a sharp pain.
His blood splattered onto the dirt.
A cut—deep, across his arm.
The Commander laughed—a crazed, unhinged laugh.
"YES! MORE!"
He attacked relentlessly, his blade crashing against Lucian’s defenses.
Lucian staggered.
Then—the Commander’s sword found his side.
Lucian coughed—blood trickled from his lips.
The Commander licked his lips, grinning like a madman. His blade dripped with Lucian’s blood.
“Not so strong now, are you?”
Lucian took a step back. His breathing was ragged. His vision blurred.
He was losing.
The Velkan King frowned.
His commander had not returned.
He exhaled sharply, gripping the reins of his horse. “Useless.”
With a single motion, he dismounted and strode toward the battlefield.
As he neared—he saw them.
Two figures locked in a deadly duel.
At first, it was clear—the Commander was winning.
The King smirked. How boring.
But then—something shifted.
Lucian staggered—but his eyes did not waver.
A voice echoed in his head.
"You can’t win like this."
Lucian clenched his fists.
"Then give me power."
The voice chuckled.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
"There will be a price."
Lucian hesitated. Then—he grinned.
"I don’t care."
The voice whispered—"Then take it."
Power flooded into Lucian’s body.
His veins burned like fire.
His wounds stopped bleeding.
His eyes darkened, glowing with an unholy red.
The King narrowed his eyes.
Something was wrong.
The Commander noticed it too. Lucian should have collapsed. He should have been dead.
Instead—he was smiling.
Lucian moved.
No hesitation.
No fear.
His blade clashed against the Commander’s with monstrous force.
The Commander staggered backward.
Lucian didn’t let him breathe.
Strike. Counter. Dodge. Slash.
Faster. Stronger. Unstoppable.
The Commander’s smirk faded.
Lucian ducked under an attack—his knee slammed into the Commander’s gut.
A loud CRACK.
The Commander coughed, blood spilling from his mouth.
Lucian grabbed him by the throat—lifted him.
The Commander’s eyes widened in shock.
"This… this isn’t possible—"
Lucian drove his knee into his ribs. Once. Twice. Bones snapped like dry twigs.
He threw him to the ground.
The Commander gasped, coughing violently.
Lucian loomed over him, blade ready.
The King—for the first time—looked intrigued.
He took a step forward, watching closely.
Would this boy win?
Would he defeat one of Velkan’s strongest warriors?
His lips curled into a smirk. “Interesting.”
Lucian raised his sword—ready to end it.
The Commander, still coughing, started laughing.
"Do it… monster."
Lucian froze.
Monster.
Something inside him hesitated.
The Commander took the chance—grabbed a hidden dagger—and SLASHED.
Blood sprayed.
Lucian staggered backward.
The Commander scrambled to his feet, clutching his side. His grin returned. "That’s right. You’re nothing but a beast."
Lucian’s vision blurred.
His mind screamed.
The voice inside him laughed. "You should’ve finished it, boy."
Lucian gritted his teeth.
Then—he stepped forward.
The battle wasn’t over.
The Velkan King watched, smiling.
"Let’s see how far you can go."
The battlefield fell silent.
Lucian and the Velkan Commander stood face to face.
Their bodies were scarred, bloodied, and barely holding on. Their swords dripped with crimson, reflecting the moon’s pale light.
Neither of them was willing to stop.
The Velkan King, watching from his throne atop the mountain, leaned forward, his golden eyes gleaming with intrigue.
"This fight is getting more and more interesting," he murmured.
He watched closely. No one knew who would win.
Then—
The final battle began.
Both warriors charged toward each other.
Swords clashed.
A bright spark ignited from the impact—a sight both beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
The soldiers held their breath.
This was a battle of will.
A fight where only the one left standing would be declared the victor.
Lucian sidestepped an overhead slash, countering with a low strike. The Commander blocked—just barely.
They moved like shadows, blades flashing under the night sky.
Every strike was meant to kill.
Every movement was calculated.
Lucian darted to the left—the Commander spun, delivering a brutal kick to his ribs.
Lucian staggered but didn''t fall.
The Commander lunged forward—a deadly upper slash.
Lucian raised his sword to block—
It was a feint.
Lucian’s eyes narrowed—
Too late.
The Commander’s real attack came from below—a dagger aimed straight for Lucian’s heart.
But—
Lucian moved.
At the last second, he grabbed the Commander’s wrist, twisted it—
STAB.
Lucian’s stolen dagger sank deep into the Commander’s abdomen.
The Commander’s body froze.
A choking gasp escaped his lips. Blood dripped from his mouth.
His fingers twitched, gripping onto Lucian’s shoulder.
Then—he smiled.
A crazed, bloodied grin.
“Good fight,” he whispered.
His body collapsed onto the ground.
Lucian stood alone.
Victorious.
His chest rose and fell sharply, his body covered in deep wounds—some fresh, some old. His once-white clothes were soaked in blood.
With his bloodied fingers, he pushed his hair back, his piercing red eyes locking onto the King.
Then—he raised his sword.
A silent declaration of war.
The Velkan King smirked.
From his high vantage point on the mountain, he gazed down at Lucian.
A mere soldier had defeated his best commander.
The wind howled.
The King raised his hand.
A single command.
“Kill him.”
The final battle began.
Lucian’s breath was ragged, but his body moved on instinct.
Velkan soldiers poured down the mountain like a tidal wave of steel.
Lucian ran toward them, like a predator chasing prey after days of starvation.
The first soldier swung a halberd.
Lucian sidestepped, sliced across the man’s throat, and moved before his body even hit the ground.
Another soldier lunged with a spear.
Lucian grabbed the shaft, spun around, and drove the spear through the soldier’s chest.
Blood sprayed.
He ripped the weapon out and used it to stab another attacker behind him.
The soldiers hesitated.
Something wasn’t right.
Lucian wasn’t just fighting—he was slaughtering.
Then—the voice whispered in his head.
"You’re using too much power."
Lucian barely heard it.
He was too lost in the fight.
He didn’t notice the burning sensation in his veins.
Didn’t notice his fingertips trembling slightly.
Didn’t notice his heartbeat growing weaker.
Didn’t notice—that his very life force was being drained.
The voice whispered again—"The more you fight, the more it takes from you."
Lucian ignored it.
Another soldier attacked.
Lucian twisted, slicing his blade upward—cutting the man in half.
Another rushed in—
Lucian grabbed his head, twisted—
SNAP.
The soldier collapsed, lifeless.
The battlefield became a nightmare.
Soldiers screamed.
Some tried to run.
Some dropped their weapons, falling to their knees in surrender.
But Lucian did not stop.
His vision blurred.
His breath came out ragged.
The voice grew louder.
"You are killing yourself."
Lucian stabbed another enemy through the stomach—
His body suddenly staggered.
He blinked.
His fingers trembled.
His breathing slowed.
Something… was wrong.
His body felt heavier.
He looked down—his hands were shaking.
His legs wobbled.
The voice whispered, "Now you understand."
Lucian’s eyes widened.
The power… it was taking his life.
His own strength was killing him.
The Velkan King watched from above, his smirk widening.
He saw it.
Lucian was slowing down.
He was burning out.
"Not bad," the King mused.
"But let''s see if you can last much longer."