chapter 23: prices

The battlefield was a ruin of broken stone and scattered debris, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and raw mana. The once-proud walls stood cracked and crumbling, remnants of a war that was far from over. As Lucien and Hector clashed, their weapons carving arcs of destruction through the air. Sparks danced from every impact of Lucien's sword, sharp and precise, as they met Hector's spear, wild and unrelenting. Lucien's movements were like a master, his footwork effortless, each strike a calculated motion meant to dismantle Hector's defense. But Hector, Hector fought like a man possessed. His attacks were rough, aggressive, erratic. He didn't care for form or precision. He cared only for breaking Lucien. And it was working. A wild thrust forced Lucien back. He barely dodged as Hector twisted the spear mid-motion, using the wind to accelerate his strike. Lucien parried, but the sheer force rattled his grip. His arm numbed for a split second, long enough for Hector to press the attack.

"wind dragon manner: Rend!"

A burst of slicing wind erupted from Hector's spear, the shockwave slamming into Lucien. He skidded back, boots grinding against shattered stone. He barely had time to regain his footing before Hector closed the distance, spear coming down like a guillotine.

Lucien twisted his blade at the last second clang! the weapons locked. But Hector wasn't fighting to win. He was fighting to kill Lucien.

With raw strength, he pushed forward, his voice a snarl. "You should have protected her!" He drove his knee into Lucien's ribs. The swordsman grunted, but his grip didn't falter. "You knew, Lucien," Hector spat, shoving him back with brute force. His breathing was ragged, his expression twisted. "You knew you couldn't do anything to Frederick, so you did nothing! And you watched her DIE." Lucien steadied himself, eyes cold. "And what did you do, Hector?" Hector's grip on his spear trembled. Then, he laughed.

A hollow, bitter laugh devoid of anything but hatred. "I used you," he said, stepping forward a sick smile on his face. "I always knew Frederick was the one who killed her. From the very beginning. But you—" He pointed at Lucien, accusation burning in his gaze. "You were useless. You didn't fight. You didn't struggle. You just stood there. So i used your weakness" his smile was sickening, like a man who had long gone lost his sanity.

Lucien's fingers curled into fists.

Hector's voice dropped, dark and venomous. " I gave you purpose Lucien. I made you useful in my plot."

Lucien stilled. "I turned Frederick against you. I made him obsessed with ruining you. Because I knew—" Hector's voice cracked, his rage spilling out like wildfire. "—I knew you would never lay a finger on him. And i knew he would be too deluded in his self proclaimed wisdom to do otherwise just to get it off his back."

Lucien said nothing. He simply stared.

But Hector wasn't finished. "I hate you Gale." Hector said turning to her. You sick parasite. You go around being a tattle tale to my sisters story just so you can be pitied. You vermin. I wonder why my uncle picked you from the streets. All that wretched money of his could have been spent on My dear Heloisa, not a failure like you." He then turns to Lucien pointing at Gale "Do you know why I hated her, Lucien?" His voice was shaking now, not with grief, but something far more dangerous. "Because she was a curse."

Lucien's body went rigid. Hector kept going, his expression breaking into something unhinged. "Every single person who tried to protect her, her foster family, MY sister, they all died. She was never meant to be saved. She was meant to burn. So why did you save her Lucien?"

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Then Lucien moved.

His sword clattered to the ground as his fist crashed into Hector's ribs.

The impact was like a thunderclap.

Hector's body launched backward, tearing through stone and steel. Walls shattered as he broke through, his form nothing more than a blur of motion and debris.

Dust filled the air.

Lucien followed, stepping through the wreckage with slow, deliberate steps.

Hector lay in the rubble, coughing up blood. His body twitched, every nerve screaming in agony. Then—warmth.

His wounds healed. Lucien had restored him. Before he could process it, Lucien's foot pressed into his chest, pinning him to the ground. "I could kill you right now," Lucien said, voice disturbingly calm. "But that would be too easy." Hector glared up at him, chest heaving. His hatred burned just as fiercely, but now, for the first time, there was something else. Fear.

Lucien's expression was void of mercy. "You wanted to make me suffer?" His fingers twitched, mana swirling at his fingertips. Another burst of healing energy seeped into Hector's battered body, restoring every fractured bone, every torn muscle. Lucien clenched his fists.

"Then let me show you what real pain feels like." Lucien drove his fist into Hector's face, his feet making it impossible for Hector to Dodge. He then kicked him, sending him into the wall. And then another burst of healing energy. At this point Hector began to laugh, a sickening laugh but Lucien paid it no mind.

A kick to the ribs that sends Hector wheezing, then a stomp to his face that Instantly breaks his neck. Then a jab that breaks his jaw. Each of these attacks more gruesome than the last, Luciens raw power poured into the beating, leaving Hector no time to react despite the healing.

The castle ruins stood solemn and battered, a relic of a forgotten war. Towering stone pillars lay shattered, their remnants buried beneath the dirt and dust of time. The air reeked of damp stone and burning embers, the aftermath of Lucien's presence. Rain pattered against the fractured walls, each droplet hissing when they landed near his feet.

Lucien stood at the heart of it all, his sword glistening under the flickering torchlight. His eyes were locked onto the lone figure before him. Hector stood with his spear clutched in a bruised, bloodied grip, his body swaying slightly, yet his feet were rooted like an unshakable oak. His breath was heavy but controlled, the wind swirling around him like a whisper of defiance.

Neither spoke.

Neither needed to.

Then, like a coiled spring snapping free, Hector moved.

Hector's spear was a blur, a silver streak tearing through the night. The wind surged behind it, guiding his strike like an unseen force. Lucien twisted his wrist, his sword shifting into a shorter, thinner form, a rapier. He angled his body and parried the spearhead with a flick of his wrist, deflecting the thrust just inches from his ribs. The moment Hector's strike missed, Lucien retaliated. He lunged forward, his blade wreathed in white-hot flame. The air shimmered, and the stone beneath his feet darkened from the sheer heat. Hector spun on his heel, twisting his spear in a crescent arc, using the wind to forcefully push Lucien back. Lucien slid to a stop, his boots grinding against the damp stone. His rapier shifted, the metal warping and extending, reforming into a greatsword. The moment it settled, he surged forward again. This time, he didn't hesitate. His sword came crashing down like an executioner's blade. Hector barely raised his spear in time. The force of the strike sent tremors through his arms, his knees buckling slightly. The wind howled in protest, and Hector twisted his weapon, redirecting the force just enough to push himself away. Lucien's blade carved a deep gash into the ground where Hector once stood, steam rising from the searing cut.

Hector exhaled sharply. His arms trembled from the impact. Lucien took a step forward. The light of his flames cast long shadows across the ruined walls.

"You're faltering," Lucien said. His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it, an edge. A warning.

Hector spat blood onto the ground. "Not nearly enough."

And he moved again.

Hector's spear lashed out like a storm, relentless and suffocating. Lucien deflected each strike, his sword morphing between weapons in response to Hector's unpredictable movements. But even as he fought, his mind warred against itself.

The way Hector fought, it wasn't just desperation.

It was rage.

It was grief.

It was justice, in its cruelest, most unrelenting form.

Hector's spear twisted, narrowly missing Lucien's throat. "Tell me something, Perceval," he snarled between strikes. "Does she speak to you?"

Lucien's next swing faltered for half a second. Hector saw it. He struck again, his wind-laced spear scraping against Lucien's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.

"Does she haunt your dreams? Or do you drown her voice in flames like you do everything else?" Lucien's pupils shrank. Hector pressed on. "You took everything from her. From me. From us. And now. now you hesitate?" His spear slammed against Lucien's blade, their weapons locked in a deadly clash. "What are you afraid of, Lucien? That she'll be waiting for you on the other side?" Lucien's flames surged violently. A moment later, Hector was flying through the air, a fiery explosion sending him crashing into the remains of a broken archway. Lucien stood amidst the flames, his breath slow and controlled, his expression unreadable. "You talk too much." Hector coughed, dust and blood filling his lungs. He pushed himself to his feet, spear still firm in his grip. "And you hesitate too much."

Lucien said nothing. But his grip on his sword tightened. The battle resumed, more brutal than before.

Hector abandoned finesse. His strikes were raw, fueled by sheer will. Lucien met him head-on, his sword dancing between forms, whip, axe, broadsword, each one striking harder than the last. Hector's ribs cracked under a brutal kick. Lucien's shoulder bled from a wind-carved gash.

Neither yielded. Lucien's flames surged, but Hector's wind refused to be extinguished. Hector's spear thrusted, but Lucien's sword met him at every turn.

They tore through the ruins like vengeful ghosts, their battle carving destruction into the very bones of the ancient castle.

And then—

Lucien saw the opening.

Hector's stance was slightly off-balance.

Lucien capitalized.

His sword became a jagged blade, curving like the fangs of a beast. He sidestepped Hector's strike, pivoted, and drove his weapon into his ribs.

A sickening crack.

Hector's breath hitched.

Lucien twisted the blade deeper.

Hector's vision blurred, his knees threatening to give. But his fingers still gripped his spear. His mind still burned with rage.

And his body, his broken, battered body, still stood.

Lucien looked down at him, his expression unreadable.

"Stay down."

Hector bared his teeth in a bloodied grin.

"No."

With the last of his strength, Hector drove his spear forward, straight through Lucien's side.

Lucien's breath caught.

The castle fell silent, save for the distant rumble of thunder.

They stood there, weapons buried in one another, both refusing to fall.

Lucien was the first to move.

He pulled his blade free from Hector's ribs, sending him collapsing to the ground. Blood dripped onto the stone floor, pooling around them like a final requiem.

Lucien reached for the spear embedded in his side. He yanked it free with a grunt, tossing it aside like a discarded relic.

Hector lay on his back, staring up at the ruined ceiling. The rain had begun to fall heavier now, pattering against his face, mixing with the blood staining his skin.

Lucien exhaled. He wiped the blood from his mouth, then turned to leave.

Hector's voice stopped him.

"This isn't over. It cant be over, i cant lose to a man like you. I cant."

As Hector is driven mad by the pain his brain is reacting to, with the anger and hatred he feels, he begins to draw directly from Faust' power. Faust was originally a dragonkin of the wind dragon selected as its protector. But when the wind dragon clan was wiped out, Faust its last defender was their last survivor. This makes him the only Non fully fledged dragon with the power to harness the wind and possess the wind Dragon's blood. Which brought through the name the last dragon warrior. And because the power of the dragon warrior is his, anyone who inherits it inherits his soul. But now, Hector was trying to submit that soul to his will, drawing not its power but Faust himself using his hatred as a fuel for his aura to force a binding to truly become the last dragon warrior just so he can kill Lucien. Lucien, Knowing he can't stop it, draws his sword, ready to Kill Hector before his rage consumes him completely, but Valeri notices this and steps in, Taking the brunt of the attack instead. Immediately, Valeri is cut and is cut deep, his thick skin and Luciens fast reflexes, the only reason he doesnt die. Valeri, trying to be kind, attempted to help Hector regulate his power and curb it by using his own mana technique seeing how itd helped Hector, before but He was pushed back by the Reflux of the raging aura of Hector. And with the power from spiraling out of control, the bond between their souls was already half merged, but Valeris daring attempt helped. He'd taken the brunt of the mana reflux and as a result the wild mana and raging aura was reduced to an internal conflict for Hector, causing him to scream in Agony and his Body fought against its soul. This caused Hector to grow a dragon wing out of the side where his spear was and the spear to resemble something similar to a dragon tooth with its shaft made of Dragon skin. His left eye was also akin to a dragons eye. Lucien knew what this meant, watching Hector's body Transform he couldnt help but marvel. It was impossible to change a petsons innate genepool and mutations from personal attributes are manifested. However this felt like Hector was being directly transformed, from his soul nature becoming more and more wild and it was impossible but it had meant catastrophe if anyone found out. Hector's gene pool was tampered with in the merging of the soul's now The being that stood infront of him wasn't just Hector but an unstable Faust who has just his soul split and a driven mad Hector who has just had half his soul merged with the other half being eaten alive with rage.