Chapter – 15 – Soul Void
As soon as Natey heard the chilling words "Soul Void" slip from Lucien's lips and witnessed a phantom-like human hand physically tear its way out of Ashwin's chest, her breath hitched. She clamped both hands over her mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sob that threatened to tear from her lungs. Tears poured down her cheeks in scalding, unstoppable rivers.
Right before her eyes, Ashwin's eyes became entirely hollow—dark, empty pits where a vibrant soul had lived just a moment prior. His face collapsed inward with a sickening, wet crunch, the skin tightening and stretching violently over the sudden prominence of his skull. His body withered in real-time, the flesh melting away as if he had been starved for centuries. Within seconds, the proud cultivator was reduced to nothing more than brittle bone and desiccated skin draped in loose clothing.
Lucien didn't even glance down. He stepped over the withered husk and walked slowly toward Natey.
"No," she whispered, scrambling backward on her hands and knees until her spine hit the cold stone of the cavern wall. "Please. No. Don't kill me. Please..."
She could feel it radiating off him—the sheer, crushing weight of his presence, the absolute wrongness of his aura. This was not a human opponent she could outsmart or fight. This was something else entirely—a cosmic apex predator wearing a flawless human mask.
Lucien ignored her pleas completely. His boots clicked softly against the stone as he walked past her to the edge of the yawning cliff side. He bent down with casual grace and grabbed Osmon by his thick hair. The man was still conscious, his fingers bleeding as he clawed desperately at the jagged rock, his sealed cultivation rendering him helpless.
"Soul Void," Lucien murmured again.
Osmon's body instantly collapsed inward, matching Ashwin's horrific fate. His eyes dissolved into empty, shadowy voids.
Lucien casually dropped the shriveled corpse beside Ashwin's ruins and turned his gaze back to Natey. His expression was utterly indifferent. There was no malice in his eyes, no sadistic pleasure. He had slaughtered them the way a human might step on ants—without an ounce of feeling.
He walked over and squatted down directly in front of her, his striking features illuminated by the dim light of the cave.
"Playing men like fiddles," he said, his voice smooth, devoid of judgment. "Not that I give a fuck."
Natey trembled so violently her teeth clicked together.
"You have two choices," Lucien said, tilting his head slightly. "One—I kill you, right here, right now. Two—you work for me. I keep you alive for as long as I see fit. Make your choice."
"Second," she gasped out, the word tumbling from her lips before her brain could fully process the options. "The second option. Please. I'll do anything. The second."
A faint, sharp smile touched Lucien's lips. He reached out and gently patted her head—a gesture so soft, so almost kind, that it sent a fresh spike of horror straight down her spine.
"Good choice," he murmured.
He stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the blood-soaked floor. Before Natey could even blink, the shadows around his feet rose like liquid ink. He melted directly into the darkness, disappearing without leaving a single trace.
Elsewhere in the Cave
Araine and Mora walked side by side through a narrow, winding passage deeper within the subterranean network, their light footsteps echoing softly off the damp walls. They giggled like carefree schoolgirls, entirely oblivious to the slaughter that had just occurred."Ashwin is such a pathetic loser," Mora said, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "He doesn't have the guts to back up any of his confidence."
Araine wrinkled her nose in disgust. "He's delusional if he thinks he deserves someone like Natey."
Mora laughed, a high, tinkling sound that bounced off the stone. "I wonder what Natey and Osmon are doing right now."
"I wish we could see them," Araine teased. "Probably making a mess of things."
"They are doing just fine. Though, perhaps not in the state you might think."
The voice cut through the damp air like a razor blade, emerging from the pitch-black darkness directly ahead of them. Both women froze instantly, their laughter dying in their throats.
"Who's there? Come out and show yourself!" Mora demanded, her hand flying to the hilt of her weapon.
But the voice hadn't come from ahead.
Lucien emerged from the shadows directly behind Mora. Before she could even process the shifting air, his pale hand closed tightly around her throat, choking off her scream. A wicked dagger materialized in his other hand—its blade forged from abyssal black metal, carved with pulsing red runes. With brutal efficiency, he drove the blade deep into the side of her neck.
Mora's eyes widened in panic. She tried to channel her astral energy to heal the wound, but the dagger's ancient magic actively devoured her life force. Blood poured uncontrollably between her frantic fingers.
"Soul Void," Lucien whispered in her ear.
He placed his palm firmly over her face. In an instant, Mora's body violently withered. She collapsed to the damp ground—a shrunken, hollow corpse.
Araine screamed, a piercing sound that echoed wildly through the corridor. Panicking, she lashed out blindly, unleashing a massive blast of astral energy. It shattered the stalactites above, but Lucien was already gone. He vanished into thin air the moment the energy left her palms.
Suddenly, the stone walls groaned. Thick, thorny roots erupted from the solid rock like striking vipers. They wrapped tightly around her wrists, her ankles, and her throat. With a sickening pop and the sound of tearing meat, her arms were ripped violently from their sockets. A split second later, her legs were separated from her hips. A massive spray of hot blood painted the stone walls.
Lucien stepped out of the darkness, casually walking through the pooling blood. He looked down at the mangled remains and calmly placed his hand on her bloodied head.
"Soul Void."
Araine's remaining husk slumped lifelessly to the floor. Turning on his heel, Lucien walked on into the dark, his cloak whispering against the stone.
The Edge of the Dark Forest
Darson Mordric and Edgard emerged from the damp mouth of the cave, stepping out into the oppressive atmosphere of the dark forest. The trees were massive, twisted entities, their bark as black and charred as charcoal. The sky above was streaked with unnatural, undulating colors."It seems this was not the right path, Young Master," Edgard said, his older face tight with caution.
"Obviously," Darson muttered. "Let's head back inside. The others might have found something useful."
He turned back toward the cavern entrance.
Without warning, Lucien materialized from the void directly in front of them and drove his heavy boot squarely into Darson's stomach. The young master flew backward, sailing right over the sheer cliff edge. Edgard moved with terrifying speed—he lunged, catching Darson by the wrist, and hauled him back onto solid ground.
Lucien calmly stepped out from the cave entrance, dropping onto the forest floor. The unnatural darkness seemed to actively cling to his clothes.
"Lucien!" Darson's voice cracked. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you want to start an all-out war with the Mordric family?!"
Lucien smiled. It was a cold, empty expression. "Darson, don't take this personally. You're just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately for you, I simply can't let you leave here alive."
Darson's fear twisted into desperate arrogance. "Lucien, don't be a fool! Edgard here is an expert in the Early Spirit Forge Realm! Do you honestly think an outsider like you can defeat him?!"
Edgard stepped forward, his fists crackling with golden astral energy. "And I have six elite disciples stationed nearby. You cannot escape us, boy."
"True," Lucien nodded slowly. "Very true."
He reached his hand out, plunging it into a dimensional pocket. "In that case, I think I have something that belongs to your disciples."
He pulled out a freshly severed head. It was Pergard's head—the cut across the neck ragged and uneven, the dead eyes still wide with terror.
Edgard's face drained of all color. "You bastard. What did you do to my son?!"
Lucien carelessly tossed the head aside. It bounced with a sickening thud, rolling across the dirt.
Edgard completely lost his mind. He attacked. A massive river of concentrated astral energy surged from his palms—a golden torrent hot enough to melt stone. The shockwave tore up the earth as it crashed toward Lucien.
Lucien didn't flinch. He simply raised his left hand. Instantly, massive roots exploded from the forest floor, weaving together to form a living shield. The golden energy splashed against the wooden barrier, but the supernatural roots grew and regenerated as fast as the fire could burn them.
Good, Lucien thought. That was the whole point. He had deliberately shown Edgard his son's head to shatter the old man's composure.
Lucien let his body dissolve, melting into the surrounding shadows. The golden torrent slammed into empty earth. Driven mad by grief, Edgard began attacking blindly into every flickering shadow and charred tree around him.
Suddenly, the Blood Moon Katana materialized in Lucien's right hand. He swung the blade with practiced lethality. Multiple mist slashes—completely invisible—shot forward. Edgard never saw them coming. Deep gashes opened across his chest, arms, and thighs.
Before he could stabilize, Lucien appeared in his blind spot. One clean, horizontal slash cut through the air at waist level. Edgard's body separated in two. His legs crumpled beneath him, while his torso toppled forward. He was still alive for a few agonizing moments, his wide eyes staring at his own severed lower half.
"Soul Void," Lucien murmured, placing a hand on the dying man's back. In a flash of dark energy, Edgard's remaining vitality was devoured, leaving behind nothing but a shriveled husk.
Lucien turned his gaze toward Darson. The young master was on his knees, his arrogant demeanor completely shattered.
"Please," Darson managed to choke out. "Please, Lucien. I'll give you everything. My family's wealth, resources, techniques. Just don't—"
Lucien didn't let him finish. He raised the Blood Moon Katana high above his head. The crimson blade came down in a swift, merciless arc. Darson's head was separated from his shoulders. Lucien placed a hand on the still-warm corpse.
"Soul Void."
A notification flashed: [Soul Points Gained: +100]
Lucien frowned. "Only a hundred? Useless. Even in death, he is nothing but a disappointment."
Back in the Cavern
Natey sat frozen, staring blankly at the hollowed-out bodies of Ashwin and Osmon. She had not moved since Lucien left. Her mind had gone completely numb.The shadows in the center of the cavern began to pool together. From the darkness, Lucien emerged, completely unblemished.
"I've cleaned up everything outside," he said.
He walked over and crouched down to her eye level. "Natey. Your sole job from this moment forward is to bring people here. To this very cave. You can use seduction. You can beg for help. You can cry. I don't care what methods you employ. As long as you successfully lure them to this location, I will keep you alive and protected."
He paused, his icy gaze locking onto hers. "But if you try to betray me—the exact way you just betrayed those two losers lying next to you—I promise you that your fate will be a thousand times worse than death."
Natey swallowed hard. "Did you... did you kill everyone else outside?"
"Yes."
A single word. Simple. Absolute. Entirely casual.
Lucien pulled two objects from thin air—a small, glowing blue crystal and an ornate porcelain vial filled with dark liquid. "This is an echo crystal. You can use it to contact me directly. These are soul-calming pills. They will keep your fragile mind sharp."
He stood up smoothly. The liquid shadows rose from the floor, instantly swallowing him whole. Along with his departure, the shriveled bodies of Ashwin and Osmon sank into the darkness, vanishing as if they had never existed.
Natey was left entirely alone in the silence.
The Alde Base Camp
Within a separate chamber of the cavern system, the environment had been transformed. Delian Alde's wealth was on full display—expensive rugs, fine wooden chairs, enchanted oil lamps. But despite the luxury, the atmosphere was tense.Torwin—a retainer with a sharp, arrogant tongue—stood near the table. "Lady Delian, I truly do not believe this Lucien person possesses any real respect for the Alde family name. You ordered everyone to return by evening, yet he is nowhere to be found."
Hellyn Ashwick stepped forward. "If a member of our party is missing, we should organize a search party."
Torwin scoffed. "Search for him in the middle of the dark forest at night? He doesn't even belong to the Alde bloodline. Do you want to put everyone's lives in danger for a stray outsider?"
"Stray Outsider?"
The voice materialized out of nowhere. Lucien emerged from Torwin's very own shadow, stepping out as if walking through an open door.
Torwin's heart stopped. "Where were you?! Do you realize your reckless actions could have put everyone in danger—"
Lucien ignored him completely, turning a calm smile to Delian. "My sincerest apologies for the delay, Lady Delian. I got caught up dealing with a few troublesome rats. However, I managed to discover a significant opportunity for us."
Delian's eyes glittered with interest. "It's perfectly fine, Lucien. I'm just glad you've returned safely."
"You arrogant bastard!" Torwin's face turned crimson. "How dare you ignore me!"
In a flash of movement, Lucien's hand closed around Torwin's throat. With a single effortless motion, he lifted the grown cultivator entirely off the ground.
"How dare you," Lucien said, his voice incredibly soft, "interrupt Lady Delian while she is in the middle of a conversation."
Torwin's face turned purple as he choked.
"Lucien," Delian said, sounding remarkably calm, "it's fine. Drop him. Perhaps it's my own fault for not teaching my retainers basic manners."
Lucien opened his hand. Torwin collapsed to the floor, gasping violently.
"Now," Delian said, turning back to Lucien with a brilliant smile, "tell us about this wonderful opportunity."
The core members gathered around the table. Lucien sat beside Delian, while Hellyn sat across from them.
"Lady Delian, while scouting, I stumbled across a hidden ancient temple ruin. Based on residual energy signatures, I believe it's an untouched inheritance—likely the final resting place of an ancient Realm Master. We should move immediately to claim it."
Celia frowned. "What if the other families have already discovered it?"
Lucien met her gaze with an unblinking stare. "So what?" He let the question hang. "Fortune favors the bold. In a place like this, if we want something, we simply take it. That is the reason there is no law within the Ancient Breach."
Delian nodded slowly. "He's absolutely right. If we want something, we take it."
No wonder the Alde family remains one of the wealthiest and most terrifying factions, Hellyn thought, a cold sweat breaking out. Lady Delian and Lucienthey are cut from the exact same cloth.
"Everyone get some rest," Delian commanded. "First thing tomorrow morning, we enter the temple ruins. Good night."
Outside the Cave
An hour later, Lucien and Delian sat together on the cool dark grass, a comfortable distance from the cave entrance. The unnatural forest spread out endlessly before them."So," Delian said, breaking the silence, "why were you really late tonight?"
Lucien offered a casual smile. "I simply got caught up in some minor business."
Delian laughed—a rich, sultry sound. "You know, even when you lie straight to my face, it doesn't really matter to me. I know you have your own reasons."
She shifted closer until her shoulder brushed his. "But you should know something—I have far bigger goals for this expedition than I originally planned."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Because you are here with me now," Delian murmured, her hand finding his knee. "Having two masters in the Late Spirit Forge Realm working together changes everything. Especially when we are so... incredibly close."
Her fingers traced a path upward along his thigh. "I am a very ambitious woman, Lucien. Even though I have a husband back home, a daughter, I still desire to see how big this world truly is. I still want to break past my limits."
She looked deeply into his eyes. "These weak Realm Masters back home only hold me back. I'm genuinely glad you are here with me."
Delian leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "You're not like the weak men I'm forced to surround myself with. You're not afraid to take exactly what you want from this world."
Lucien turned his head, bringing his face inches from hers. "Neither are you."
Delian's lips curved into a victorious smile.
They sat together for a while longer, discussing the temple ruins, potential dangers, and rival families. Then they rose and walked back into the cave.
"Rest well tonight, Lucien."
"You as well, Lady Delian."
Deep within the tangled underbrush beyond the camp, a shadow stirred.
He had been hiding for hours, his muscles stiff, his eyes never leaving the cave entrance. His cultivation was sealed—Delian's cruel hand—leaving him weak and vulnerable. But the hatred burning in his chest was hotter than any astral fire he had ever channeled.
He had watched everything from the darkness. He had seen them together on the grass. Lucien and Delian. Sitting closely. Talking intimately. Touching.
With a twisted expression distorting his features, Keldan watched them from the dark.
Author Note:
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