Coma II

Lucifer swung his sword again, the blade cutting through the air with precision. Yet, his movements were mechanical, lacking the focus and intent they usually carried. Sweat dripped from his forehead, but it wasn't from the exertion of training—it was the frustration brewing inside him.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his mind to settle. His thoughts kept circling back to the one person who had managed to push him beyond his limits. Arthur Nightingale.

At first, Arthur had been just a classmate, a friend. Someone Lucifer enjoyed competing with, someone who made him push harder. But things changed. Arthur's growth was meteoric, and soon, he wasn't just a friend—he was a rival. A true rival, the kind that made Lucifer question his own abilities, forcing him to dig deeper.

And Lucifer respected that.

He respected Arthur's strength, his determination, and the way he faced challenges head-on. But there was something else, something that Lucifer couldn't ignore no matter how hard he tried.

Arthur and Rachel.

He hadn't noticed it at first. The closeness between them, the way they seemed to understand each other without words. It wasn't until he saw them together at the ball, Rachel's hand in Arthur's, that something stirred inside Lucifer. Jealousy.

It hit him like a wave, unexpected and unwanted. He liked Rachel. Maybe he always had, but it never became clear until now. And the thought of her being with someone else—especially Arthur—made his chest tighten in a way he wasn't used to.

But Lucifer wasn't like Luke or Drake. He wasn't someone who would let his emotions consume him, turn him into something twisted and dark. No, he wouldn't let jealousy cloud his judgment, wouldn't let it push him into making mistakes.

Still, there was an awkwardness now. Something unspoken between him and Arthur. They hadn't addressed it, hadn't even acknowledged it out loud, but it was there—a subtle tension in the air whenever they were in the same room.

Lucifer took a deep breath, his grip tightening around his sword hilt. He needed to clear his mind, to focus. But how could he, when his thoughts kept circling back to the same thing?

Rachel.

Arthur.

The space between them that seemed to grow smaller and smaller with each passing day.

"Damn it," Lucifer muttered under his breath, swinging his sword harder, faster. But no matter how much he trained, it wasn't enough to shake the feeling gnawing at him.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a battle he could win with a blade.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, an uproar was brewing within one of the most powerful families in the East.

The Namgung family was part of the five great families of the Eastern Continent. While they didn't hold the same prestige as the three great sects of Murim, their influence was undeniable, each generation boasting several Immortal-rankers within their ranks.

In ancient times, the Namgung family had been akin to kings in the East, reigning supreme in Murim. At their peak, one of their own was granted the epithet "Sword Emperor," a Radiant-ranker whose blade had shaped the fate of entire empires.

But those glory days were long gone.

The Namgung family had fallen from their pedestal, losing their Grade 6 art and, with it, the dominance they once held. Now, they were still respected but no longer unrivaled. Time had worn away their greatness.

The current patriarch, Jaehyun Namgung, was a formidable Immortal-ranker known as the "Thunder Sword." His skill with lightning-based sword techniques made him a feared warrior, and his presence alone was enough to remind others that the Namgung family still had power.

Yet even with their Immortal-rankers, the Namgung family was merely powerful by ordinary standards. To those who knew of the true forces in the world the Namgung family's strength was… limited.

Drake had contracted with demons, staining the honor of his family beyond redemption.

Using every ounce of influence they could muster, the Namgung family had managed to detain Drake within their own estate, under strict supervision. With the support of the other powerful clans of Murim, they had avoided immediate public scandal. But no one was under any illusion—Drake's fate was sealed. Execution was inevitable.

In the world of mana, once someone succumbed to demonic temptation and formed a contract, they were beyond saving. Their life, their soul, everything was tainted. And no matter how much power or prestige a family wielded, no one could shield a demon contractor from justice.

The only reason Jaehyun Namgung, the patriarch of the Namgung family, had intervened at all wasn't to spare his son. Even he knew that was impossible.

If someone as influential as Lucifer Windward, the prince of the North, fell to demonic temptation, not even the Windward family—one of the greatest superpowers—could save him. The laws of the world were absolute. Demon contractors were a threat to everything.

But the situation wasn't just about Drake anymore. It was about the survival of the entire Namgung family. One wrong move, one misstep, and they could be wiped out, their name erased from history.

Jaehyun swallowed hard, his throat dry as he cast a wary glance at the man sitting across from him, casually drinking his wine as though he were indifferent to the chaos around him.

Indifference?

No, that wasn't it. The aura radiating from the man was far too potent for that. It wasn't indifference. It was dominance—pure, overwhelming dominance.

The man sitting before him was no ordinary guest.

He was the most powerful individual in the world.

Magnus Draykar, the Martial King.

Jaehyun's pulse quickened. The Martial King had come in person.

No matter how composed Jaehyun tried to remain, the weight of the Martial King's presence pressed down on him like an unmovable mountain. There was no mistaking it—the Namgung family's survival hinged on the next few moments.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. The stakes were higher than ever.

Jaehyun's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Magnus Draykar raise his glass to his lips, the casual motion belying the terrifying power beneath the surface. Every sip the Martial King took seemed to echo through the room, a reminder of the abyss that separated men like him from the rest of the world.

Jaehyun steeled himself, knowing that his next words could determine the fate of his entire lineage.

"Martial King," Jaehyun began, keeping his voice steady, though his insides churned, "thank you for granting me the honor of your presence."

Magnus didn't respond at first, simply setting his glass down with a quiet clink. His sharp, piercing gaze finally lifted to meet Jaehyun's, and for a moment, Jaehyun felt like he was being stripped bare, his every thought and fear laid out for the Martial King to see.

"You speak of honor, Jaehyun Namgung," Magnus said, his voice low, but commanding. "But we both know there is no honor in this." His words cut deep, the weight of them pressing down on Jaehyun like an iron fist.

Jaehyun clenched his fists beneath the table, struggling to keep his composure. "I understand," he said, his voice tight. "Drake's actions have disgraced the family, and there is no forgiveness for what he has done."

"Disgrace?" Magnus repeated, his tone almost mocking. "Your son has done more than disgrace your family. He has placed you all in the path of annihilation."

Jaehyun's heart sank. He had feared as much, but hearing it from the Martial King himself was something else entirely.

Magnus leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Jaehyun's. "The other clans of Murim may still tolerate your existence. But you and I both know what the consequences are for harboring a demon contractor."

"I—"

"Silence."

Jaehyun swallowed his words, unable to speak under the weight of Magnus's presence. The Martial King wasn't just a man—he was a force of nature. His authority was absolute, and in this moment, Jaehyun felt smaller than he ever had before.

"You have one option," Magnus said, his voice as cold as the depths of winter. "Turn Drake over to me. I will see to it that justice is done swiftly."

Jaehyun's breath hitched. He had known this would be the outcome, but hearing it so plainly still left a bitter taste in his mouth. His son… his own blood would be handed over to the Martial King, who would deliver the fatal blow. There was no mercy. No escape.

Yet there was no other way. If he refused, the Namgung family would be dragged into ruin along with Drake. The Martial King had made it clear—demon contractors could not be allowed to live.

"May I ask one thing, Martial King?" Jaehyun ventured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Magnus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Jaehyun's nerve. "Speak."

"Will… will the rest of the family be spared?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Jaehyun could hear his own heartbeat in the quiet, each pulse a reminder of how precarious their situation was.

Magnus studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. "The Namgung family will be spared. So long as you cooperate."

Relief flooded Jaehyun's chest, but it was bittersweet. His son was lost, but at least the family would survive.

"Thank you, Martial King," Jaehyun said, bowing his head in gratitude. "I will ensure that Drake is prepared."

Magnus rose from his chair, towering over Jaehyun. "Good," he said, his voice as final as the closing of a door. "I will return in three days. Make sure everything is in order."

With that, Magnus Draykar turned and walked out of the room, his presence leaving behind a chill that seeped into Jaehyun's bones.

As the door closed behind the Martial King, Jaehyun collapsed into his chair, his mind swirling with the weight of what had just transpired. Drake would be executed, but the family would survive.

But what kind of future awaited them now?