Lucian took another step forward.
Then—
His legs buckled.
The battlefield blurred.
His heart pounded erratically.
Lucian collapsed to one knee.
The Velkan soldiers stopped.
Then—the King stood.
It was his turn now.
The battle was over.
At least—that''s what they thought.
But beyond the mountain, in the shadowed battlefield littered with corpses, one fight remained.
The Velkan King stepped forward, his heavy boots crushing the blood-soaked earth beneath him. His piercing golden eyes stared down at Lucian with amusement.
His lips curled into a cruel smirk.
“So, this is the infamous monster?” he scoffed.
Lucian, barely able to keep himself upright, gasped for breath. His body trembled—his strength had left him. His vision blurred. He couldn''t move.
His body no longer obeyed him.
He tried to stand—but his knees buckled.
The King let out a deep, booming laugh.
"Is that all?"
He grabbed Lucian by the collar, lifting him effortlessly.
Lucian tried to fight back, but his body refused to move.
The King simply threw him down like a discarded rag.
Lucian hit the ground hard, coughing violently.
The King’s sword pressed against his chest.
“Stand up, or is that all you have?”
Lucian’s fingers twitched. His mind screamed MOVE! But his body was unresponsive.
He forced himself to look up.
The King''s eyes.
They weren’t just looking at him.
They were looking down on him.
Mocking him.
Something snapped.
Lucian gritted his teeth. With all the strength he had left, he pushed himself up onto his feet, gripping his sword tightly.
He charged.
Too slow.
The King effortlessly dodged his strike, laughing.
Again, Lucian swung—but it was weak.
Again—easily countered.
The King shook his head, chuckling.
"Pathetic."
Lucian fell to one knee, his breath ragged.
The King didn''t even take him seriously.
Then—
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Lucian’s fingers wrapped around something hidden beneath his belt.
A dagger.
The King stepped forward, raising his sword to end it.
Lucian lunged.
The dagger plunged into the King’s stomach.
The King''s body stiffened.
His eyes widened in shock.
Before he could react—Lucian slashed.
A clean cut.
The King''s head fell.
Silence.
Blood dripped from Lucian’s blade.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then—
The sun began to rise.
The Crown Prince and his army had arrived just in time to witness it.
He saw a single figure standing, drenched in blood, holding a severed head.
Lucian.
The Velkan soldiers, who once fought against Astria, stared in stunned silence.
Then—cheers erupted.
For the first time, they were free.
The tyrant was dead.
Alexzander, the rightful heir, stood among his people.
Their new King.
But the Crown Prince wasn’t celebrating.
He was running.
Running toward Lucian.
As he reached him—
Lucian collapsed.
The Crown Prince caught him before he hit the ground.
"Lucian!"
Lucian’s breathing was shallow.
His body was cold.
The Crown Prince turned to the soldiers.
"Get him to the medical camp! Now!"
Lucian was taken to the Velkan capital, where his treatment began.
The war was finally over.
Alexzander stood before his people, taking the oath to become the new King of Velkan.
As he raised his sword in the air, the people roared in celebration.
But inside the palace, Lucian lay unconscious, his body barely clinging to life.
The Crown Prince sat beside him.
“You did it.”
His voice was soft.
He reached out, gripping Lucian’s cold hand.
"Now, you have to wake up. I didn''t come all this way to lose you again."
The room was silent.
Lucian didn’t move.
But somewhere—deep in his mind—
A whisper echoed.
"Wake up."
Days later, Lucian awoke in a grand chamber of the Velkan Empire. The war was over. Alexzander De Cerci had reclaimed his throne, and peace had been restored.
Lucian sat up, his body aching but alive. A familiar voice spoke beside him. “You finally woke up,” the voice said.
He turned to see Novel sitting by his bed, relief evident in his eyes.
Lucian swallowed; his throat felt dry. “Did we... win?”
Novel smirked. “Of course.” Then, after a pause, his voice softened. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Lucian looked away, his chest tightening. “I didn’t think I would make it.”
Novel reached forward, gripping Lucian’s hand. “But you did.”
For the first time in years, Lucian felt warmth—a home, a place where he belonged.
And perhaps, just perhaps, his war was finally over.
A new era had begun
The war had finally ended.
The Crown Prince of Astria, Novel, and the newly crowned King of Velkan, Alexzander, signed a treaty, sealing the peace between the two nations. With their wounds tended and their spirits high, the Astrian soldiers began packing their belongings, ready to return home.
As they set off, Novel made a historic announcement:
"Lucian is not just a soldier of Astria—he is my brother, the Third Prince of Astria, Lucian Al Pestelio."
The revelation sent ripples through the army. Many were shocked, others whispered amongst themselves, but no one dared question the Crown Prince. Lucian, however, remained silent, his emotions hidden beneath a stoic exterior.
The army moved towards the northern border, where the Duke bid his farewell. From there, the remaining soldiers journeyed home under Novel’s command.
25 Days Later- The Capital of Astria
The capital had been buzzing with anticipation. News of victory had spread like wildfire, and the people rejoiced, decorating the streets in preparation for the grand return of their warriors. It was to be a day of celebration—a day to honor those who had fought and fallen for the kingdom.
But for one man, this homecoming was anything but joyful.
Lucian.
The war hero. The man who had slain the tyrant king of Velkan. The one who had suffered the most… and yet, the one whose name was nowhere to be found in the royal proclamation of honor.
The night before their arrival, Novel and Lucian sat together in a quiet tent. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, their relationship a tangled web of lost years and painful memories.
Novel knew this was his chance.
“Lucian… there’s something you should know,” Novel finally said. “The truth behind everything that happened to you.”
Lucian’s gaze snapped to his brother, his expression unreadable.
Novel took a deep breath. “I found an old record in the royal library. It tells the story of the first King of Astria and the tragedy that led to the kingdom’s darkest secret.”
Lucian said nothing, but his fingers curled into fists.
Novel continued, “After losing his family in a fire, the First King was consumed by grief. He blamed his only surviving son—the second prince—for the tragedy. In his madness, he sought forbidden ways to bring his family back.”
Lucian’s breathing became shallow.
“He met a man who promised him a way to resurrect them. A ritual. Sacrifices were made—ten people at first. But nothing happened. Again and again, the ritual failed. In his desperation, the King sacrificed his own son.”
A cold chill ran down Lucian’s spine.
“The moment the blade pierced the prince’s heart… something awakened. A shadow emerged, but it was no spirit of the King’s family. It was something else—something ancient.”
Novel’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“The prince’s body moved. His once-blue eyes turned crimson. The first thing he did was kill one of the royal guards and consume him.”
Lucian stiffened.
“The King, realizing his mistake, begged the temple for help. The battle between the temple and the possessed prince lasted for days. In the end, they destroyed his body, but the shadow… it escaped. Before vanishing, it spoke.”
Novel met Lucian’s eyes. “It said, ‘This is only the beginning.’”
Lucian’s mind swirled with questions, but he forced them down. He was tired—too tired to think about a past that was no longer his.
The next day, they reached the capital.
The streets were filled with people, cheering for the victorious army. Flowers rained down from the balconies. Flags waved high in the air.
But as they passed through the grand plaza, Lucian noticed something.
The cheers were not for him.
They were for Novel.