The Hidden Monster of House Vale

The cave was warm, lit by flickering torches that cast dancing shadows across the stone walls. Lucien sat at a rough-hewn table, a goblet of wine in his hand, his posture relaxed despite the tension that hung in the air. Across from him sat Hellyn and Celbeth, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"So, Lucien," Celbeth began, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, "what's the next plan? Surely you're not content to just sit around and drink wine for the remainder of the Ancient Breach."

Lucien swirled the crimson liquid in his goblet, his golden eyes distant. "I'm thinking of visiting the Church."

Celbeth nearly choked on her drink. "The Church? Never thought that you, of all people, would be so religious." She laughed, the sound echoing off the cave walls. "What's next—are you going to start praying to the ancestors and burning incense?"

Lucien's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "There are many things in this world that aren't what they seem, Celbeth. The Church is one of them."

Hellyn, who had been quietly nursing her own drink, looked up with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Let's just say I have some business there," Lucien replied cryptically.

Celbeth shrugged, deciding not to press further. She turned her attention to Hellyn instead. "And what about you, Hellyn? What are your plans after this?"

Hellyn's fingers tightened around her goblet. "I'm going to prepare for the academy."

Celbeth raised an eyebrow. "The academy? But isn't it too early to prepare for that? The academy hasn't even started yet."

Hellyn shook her head, her expression troubled. "That's exactly why I need to prepare. After coming to the Ancient Breach, I feel... weak. Look at everyone around us. You guys are monsters. Especially Lucien." She gestured toward the young man, who was still nursing his wine with an unreadable expression.

Celbeth laughed, reaching over to pat Hellyn's shoulder. "Oh, come on. You can't say that and then point at a monster like him. Look at him—he looks so innocent." She winked at Lucien, who merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"You'd be surprised what innocence can hide," Lucien murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Before anyone could respond, the temperature in the cave dropped. Six figures stood at the entrance, their hoods pulled low, their presence radiating power that pressed against the very air. One of them stepped forward—a massive man, broad-shouldered and towering, his voice like grinding stones.

"So," he boomed, "which one of you is Lucien Vale?"

Lucien looked around the table, then back at the figures. He tilted his head, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "I don't know. Lucien Vale must be one of these two women." He gestured toward Hellyn and Celbeth, who both stiffened at the implication.

The big man's eyes narrowed. "Do I look stupid to you? Lucien Vale is a man, and you're the only man here. Did you really think you could hide from me?"

Lucien's smile didn't waver. "Then why the fuck are you even asking?"

The big man's face contorted with rage. He released his astral energy aura, the pressure slamming into the cave like a physical force. Hellyn and Celbeth gasped, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of the peak Spirit Forge realm aura.

Peak Spirit Forge realm, Celbeth thought, her mind racing. What is going on this year? Is every powerful cultivator in the country gathering here?

Hellyn's thoughts were similarly grim. Peak Spirit Forge realm... is it so common now that even random thugs possess such power?

Lucien set down his goblet with a soft clink. His golden eyes began to glow, and his own aura erupted outward, cold and distant, pushing back against the intruder's pressure. The temperature in the cave dropped further, frost forming on the walls.

"You barge into my home," Lucien said, his voice soft but razor-sharp, "and you release your aura at my friends. You had better have a very good explanation."

The big man sneered. "You bastard. Do you even know who we are?"

"I don't care," Lucien replied flatly.

"We are the Seven Realm Breakers," the man declared, puffing out his chest.

Lucien looked him up and down, then glanced at the other five figures. "But you're only six."

The big man's face reddened. "That's because you killed one of us!"

Celbeth's blood ran cold. The Seven Realm Breakers. A group of seven peak Spirit Forge realm masters. They act as pillars of power, maintaining balance and stopping potential threats. But if they're here... are they here to kill Lucien because he's reached the peak Spirit Forge realm?

"Who was that?" Lucien asked, his tone dismissive. "I don't remember every man I kill."

The big man—Quindic, though they didn't know his name yet—stepped forward, his fists clenched. "You think you can get away with anything? You're alone at the peak, and we are six. We will take our revenge for Marson Mordric."

Lucien smiled, slow and predatory. He took a sip of his wine, utterly unconcerned. "Maybe you'll succeed," he said, his voice conversational. "But remember this—before I die, I'll kill at least a few of you. And I'll do my best to heavily injure the rest." He set down his goblet and leaned forward, his golden eyes burning. "Did you really think you could come here, try to intimidate me, and I would just roll over? Let me remind you of something. I am Lucien Vale. I am not afraid of death. And before I die, I will make sure your numbers dwindle significantly."

His aura intensified, and for the first time, Quindic hesitated. There was something in Lucien's eyes—something ancient and unyielding—that made the big man take a step back.

He's not afraid, Quindic realized. He truly isn't afraid of us.

Human beings joined groups to make up for their weaknesses. The Seven Realm Breakers existed because each of its members was either afraid of being hunted or needed protection. Those who were truly strong had no need for such alliances. But the Seven Realm Breakers were together because they valued their lives. They had things to lose—reputation, family, cultivation. And fear of loss was a powerful motivator.

It was why young cultivators like Seraphina and Celbeth were so bold. They had nothing to lose. But as cultivators aged, they accumulated attachments—and attachments created fear.

And fear was something Lucien Vale had transcended.

Quindic tensed, ready to attack. Lucien's hand moved, and the World Root Executioner Halberd materialized in his grip, its presence sending a ripple of power through the cave.

Then, suddenly, a figure stepped between them. One of the other hooded figures raised a hand, and Quindic froze mid-motion.

The figure lowered their hood. Black curly hair cascaded down to her waist, framing a face of sharp, elegant features. Her golden eyes—so similar to Lucien's, yet somehow colder—fixed on him with an unreadable expression. Her dark blue dress revealed one long leg, and a red necklace with a ruby pendant rested against her ample chest. She was older than the others, her bearing that of a mature woman in her prime.

"So," Lucien said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, "the real leader of the Seven Realm Breakers finally decides to intervene."

The woman's lips curved into a faint smile. "So you knew."

"Knew what? That this dickhead isn't the real leader? Or that your real intentions aren't to attack me?" Lucien asked.

"How did you—" the woman began.

"Trust me," Lucien interrupted, "if he were the leader of this group, it would have disbanded long ago. And every single member would be dead by now."

The woman—Gwenra—studied him for a long moment. Then she laughed, a sound like wind chimes. "As I thought. You're much more interesting in person. Can we talk while drinking?"

Lucien gestured to the table. "Please."

The five other figures fanned out behind Gwenra as she took a seat across from Lucien. Hellyn and Celbeth moved to stand behind him, their expressions a mixture of fear and curiosity.

Lucien poured two cups of wine, sliding one across the table to Gwenra. "So, Senior Sister," he said, his tone respectful, "may I ask why you decided to come here personally?"

Quindic bristled at the honorific, but Gwenra silenced him with a glance. "Quindic is hot-headed, but he was right about one thing. You did kill one of our men."

"And my answer won't change," Lucien replied smoothly. "If Senior Sister wants to take revenge, I'm up for it. But I'm assuming there's more to this visit, since you're not attacking me."

Gwenra nodded, her golden eyes appraising him. "Your perception is impressive. Here's the truth—we lack attack power. Marson Mordric was our primary attacker. With him gone, our team is unbalanced." She gestured to the other figures. "Quindic specializes in raw physical power. Samley is an assassin. Perie lays traps. Isalyn is a healer. Fayie is an elf with excellent ranged attack capabilities. And I handle magic." She paused, her expression darkening. "Without Marson, our offensive capabilities are severely compromised."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" Lucien asked, taking a sip of his wine. "It's not as if I wanted to kill Marson. He attacked the Alde family."

Gwenra's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"He told us he was going to attack Lucien Vale from the Vale family," Gwenra said slowly. "Why would he attack the Alde family?"

Lucien's expression didn't change. "He was looking for me. He asked Lady Delian about my whereabouts, and she refused to tell him. So he attacked her. His retainers tried to force themselves on her."

Gwenra's jaw tightened. "We had no information about that. If we had known, we would never have given him permission to act." She took a deep breath. "Our clan member—and every realm master who's attained the Astral Academy—has been trained by the Alde family for thousands of years. We owe them a debt that cannot be repaid."

"Gwenra." The voice came from the cave entrance, smooth and commanding. Lady Delian stepped into the torchlight, her expression unreadable. "What are you doing here? Unannounced?"

Gwenra rose to her feet, and for a moment, the two women stared at each other. Then Gwenra laughed and embraced Delian. "Delian, you never told me about these problems. Why?"

"Because Lucien was by my side," Delian replied, hugging her back. "I never thought to involve you."

Lucien watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. "You two know each other?"

"We attended the Astral Academy together," Delian said, pulling back from the embrace. "We were children then, but the bond has lasted."

Gwenra's expression softened. "I never knew you were involved with Lucien, Delian. What are you going to do after leaving the Ancient Breach?"

Delian's smile was cold, her eyes glittering with dangerous intent. "I'm going to declare war on the Mordric family. They tried to humiliate me and the Alde family. Their whole clan will pay for it."

A chill swept through the cave. Every realm master present felt the weight of her words. Delian was only at the late Spirit Forge realm, but she had resources—endless resources. She could hire an army of realm masters, wage war for years. The Alde family had been training cultivators for millennia, and their network stretched across the entire country. In the Ancient Breach, Delian might not be the strongest, but outside...

So this is why she's called the Cruelest Countess, Lucien thought. Everyone thinks it's Count Alde who pulls the strings, but the truth is—it's always been her.

Gwenra shook her head, a rueful smile on her lips. "You're as ruthless as ever, Delian."

"You know me," Delian replied, her tone light.

Gwenra turned back to Lucien. "Delian, will you lend me Lucien Vale? There's a dungeon that requires attack power, and with Marson dead, we lack it. I was hoping he would join us."

Delian's expression turned serious. "Lucien makes his own decisions. I owe him a debt for saving me and my retainers. But before you take him anywhere, answer me this—are you going to take revenge for Marson Mordric? Are you going to interfere in my war?"

Gwenra shook her head immediately. "No. We had very little information about the whole situation. We won't become an eyesore for the Alde family."

It was a rational decision. The Alde family essentially ran an organization that trained realm masters across the country. No matter how strong the Seven Realm Breakers were, they couldn't protect their entire clan from the Alde family's influence. The irony wasn't lost on Lucien—the most powerful group in the country, and yet they had to bend the knee to a single countess.

"So, Lucien," Gwenra said, turning back to him, "what's your decision?"

Lucien smiled. "I have a condition. I want twenty percent of the treasures."

"What did you say, bastard?" Quindic roared. "You killed our member, and now because of you, we're stuck here, and you want twenty percent? That's not even equal! Why should we compensate you? You should compensate us and work for free!"

"Well, then I guess you're on your own," Lucien replied, shrugging.

"What did you say—" Quindic started.

"Shut up!" Gwenra's voice cracked like a whip, and Quindic fell silent, his face reddening. "Let me negotiate."

Lucien's smile widened. "Too bad, Senior Sister. The offer is now twenty-five percent—because of that dickhead."

Gwenra regarded him for a long moment, her golden eyes unreadable. Then she nodded slowly. "We'll take your offer. And please, don't think Quindic's words represent the Seven Realm Breakers."

"But they do, Senior Sister," Lucien replied smoothly. "If a child doesn't respect their elders, it's because their parents don't respect them either."

Quindic's face contorted with fury, but Gwenra silenced him with a raised hand. "Don't worry, everyone," she said, her voice calm. "I'll give him my share. Nothing will change for you."

Gwenra had agreed easily to the negotiation for a simple reason—this dungeon was unlike any other. And as Lucien thought about it, a system message appeared before his eyes.

[The Hollow Grave of Death Pit has opened]

[Success rate for the host is only 10 percent]

[Stay away from this Dungeon]

The system wants me to stay alive, Lucien thought, his expression carefully neutral. Is this dungeon really that dangerous? If it is, I'll just have to stay away from this particular dungeon... but I should ask which one we're going to, just in case.

He took a sip of his wine, his voice casual. "So when do we have to go? And what's the name of the dungeon?"

"We have to go tomorrow," Gwenra replied. "And the name of the dungeon is the Hollow Grave of Death Pit."

Fuck.

Author Note:

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