Luce-ll

Centre of Thornmere Hamlet

Liam stood in front of the fountain while Ravyn sat on a nearby bench, stuffing her mouth with fruit salad and enjoying the scenery.

Ravyn tilted her head slightly. 'Why did he stop here? Is there something special about this place?'

She looked around. Couples and young lovers were scattered across the square, whispering to each other or wrapped in embraces. Some exchanged kisses openly. Her gaze returned to Liam, and her cheeks flushed. 'Don't tell me…'

She quickly stuffed more salad into her mouth, face growing red.

Liam suddenly spoke. "Yes. Why didn't I think of it sooner?"

Ravyn startled, looking at him with wide eyes, her mouth still full, confused by his sudden outburst.

He approached her calmly. "I've got a good idea to find him."

After glancing around and finding the street spotless, Liam unsheathed his sword and held it in his hand.

"This will lead us to his location."

Ravyn tilted her head, still chewing, her mouth puffed with salad. The sight made Liam want to pinch her cheek, but he restrained himself.

He focused on the sword, placing the tip against the ground while gripping the handle firmly.

"Luce. Give me the location of Luce."

Then he released the hilt, letting the sword fall.

The sword balanced for a second, then tipped to the right, falling onto the road. Liam narrowed his eyes for a moment. It looked strange, but he trusted his skill, God-Given Luck would never betray him.

"Alright," he muttered, turning to Ravyn. "Now we just need to find our too... ahem, our helper. Leave everything to me. Just stay behind."

He started walking in the direction the sword had indicated and motioned for Ravyn to follow. She obeyed without question, still clutching her bowl of salad, her cheeks puffed as she continued eating.

A few minutes later, they reached a three-way intersection. Liam repeated the same process, placing the sword's tip on the ground and holding the hilt lightly. After a moment, the sword tilted again, this time to the left, pointing toward another road.

"Alright," Liam said calmly and led the way.

Just like that, their strange navigation continued, sometimes turning right, sometimes left. After nearly half an hour, their path ended abruptly at a solid stone wall.

Ravyn blinked, her cheeks finally returning to normal as her salad disappeared. "What should we do? There's no road here."

Liam pressed a hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. Then, without hesitation, he repeated the sword trick. This time, the hilt turned and pointed directly at the wall.

He tried again. Once. Twice. Five times in total. The result was the same.

Liam exhaled slowly. "This should be the place we're looking for."

Liam closed his eyes and focused, pushing through the resistance in his mind. After several seconds, the air around him trembled.

A crimson wave erupted from his body, swallowing the surroundings like a living mist. The energy surged outward, forming an invisible barrier that stretched two kilometers in every direction, enveloping nearly one-fifth of Thornmere.

When he opened his eyes, the world had changed.

The stone wall ahead flickered, revealing faint mana lines crawling across its surface. It wasn't a wall at all, but a formation, a layered illusion hiding something far more elaborate. His gaze followed the mana threads to a broken lamp hanging on the right. A medium. One of four.

'So that's how they sealed it…'

If the formation were to fall, every anchor had to be destroyed simultaneously. "Annoying" Liam exhaled slowly. He didn't have the patience to play demolition expert, nor the manpower to split four ways.

Instead, he let the domain pull him deeper. His senses pierced through the layers like blades cutting through silk.

And there it was, a sprawling mansion, veiled behind illusions and wards. Inside the grand hall, an elf reclined lazily on a velvet sofa, a wine glass in one hand. His other hand rested on the armrest as his gaze lingered on a large silver-framed mirror.

In that mirror, Liam and Ravyn stood before the "wall."

A faint smirk curled on the elf's lips "Hmph. These lowborns really think they can reach me? Pathetic. Who do they think they're dealing with?"

He raised the glass, took a slow sip, and finally narrowed his eyes at the boy with ash-grey hair.

"And this one… what's so special about him? Just another-"

The sentence never finished. His pupils constricted violently.

Those eyes.

Scarlet, faintly glowing, staring directly through the glass, no, through him.

For a moment, the elf forgot how to breathe. The pressure that coiled around his spine was wrong, far beyond anything a lowborn should radiate.

On the other side, Liam tilted his head slightly, as if testing a new expression. Then, without a word, he triggered his second gift.

[Blood Crimson Eye]--Activated.

The change was immediate. The air in the mansion thickened like molten lead. Luce's body seized, muscles locking against his will. A violent shiver ran through him as sweat slicked his palms and drenched his expensive silk shirt.

The mirror trembled faintly on its stand. His instincts screamed run, hide, break the mirror, but his limbs ignored every command. He couldn't even blink.

'What… what is this? What is he?'

Meanwhile, Liam's voice cut through the silence like a blade against glass, calm, even polite, but dripping with something far more sinister.

Liam: "Are you done watching? Or should we keep posing for you?"

Luce swallowed hard, his throat dry as sand. The boy's voice sounded close. Too close. Like he wasn't speaking from outside the wall, but right behind him.

Liam's lips curved into a faint smile. His next words slid out softly, almost playful, yet enough to freeze blood solid "This is the last time I'll ask nicely. Turn off the mirror. Open the way. Or…"

His eyes burned crimson, a ripple of bloodlust threading through the domain like a living storm.

"…I promise, you'll experience something unforgettable. A moment so beautiful you'll cherish it, until your last scream."

The elf's vision blurred for a second, spots of white flooding his eyes. Fear, not the ordinary kind, but the primal, marrow-deep terror reserved for prey staring into a predator's maw, tore through his soul.

His body trembled so violently the wine glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the polished floor.

Only the sound of his heart hammering and the slow, deliberate breath of the boy on the other side.