The Hidden Monster of House Vale

He dropped to his knees, his body convulsing as blood poured from his wounds. The warmth of his life essence pooled beneath him, staining the snow a deep, vibrant crimson. He looked up, his vision blurring, and saw the figure standing over him with cold indifference.

It was Gwenra.

Her eyes held no pity, no sorrow, no flicker of the love she'd once professed. She looked at him as if he were nothing more than an insect beneath her boot.

"How?" Darfred gasped, blood bubbling from his lips. "How did you figure it out?"

Gwenra's expression remained unchanged, her sword still aimed at his throat. "It was obvious, wasn't it?"

She stepped closer, her boots crunching against the snow. "Did you really think you could enter my mind and I wouldn't notice? When I had died seventy times, I already knew this was all an illusion. The question was how to escape—and I didn't know that yet."

She paused, tilting her head as if studying a curious specimen. "And then you appeared. You realized my mind was becoming tired, that my weakness was my love for Darfred. So I tested you."

Gwenra's eyes narrowed. "I changed some of my memories—only for a few moments. Realm masters skilled in magic can do that. When I asked how you survived, you said you fell from a cliff into a river. But I made that answer up in my mind, and you read it. The truth is that Darfred died by monsters, and his soul merged with the Red Gate."

Darfred's face contorted with fury, but he was too weak to move.

"Then you suggested we spend the night like we used to," Gwenra continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "But Darfred never spent the night with me. In fact, I've never spent the night with anyone. We were in love, but we wanted to wait until after marriage to make it special. I made that memory up too—and you believed it."

She gestured with her sword toward his fallen form. "You used a spear, but the real Darfred favored a bow. By then, I already knew you were fake. The question was how to defeat you. So I suggested we fight the dragon together, and you hesitated before agreeing. You were afraid I might attack you from behind—but the dragon was on your side, so you agreed."

Gwenra's voice hardened. "And most importantly, the real Darfred would never give up. He would never ask me to abandon my ambition, to surrender to despair. I've accepted his death now. I don't want to get stuck in the past anymore."

"Please... please spare me," Darfred whimpered, his voice barely a whisper.

Gwenra swung her sword.

The blade sliced through his neck with surgical precision, severing his head from his shoulders. The body crumpled to the ground, and the illusion—the snow, the mountains, the dragon, the cave—shattered like glass.

Reality reasserted itself.

Gwenra found herself standing in an ancient chamber, its walls covered in faded murals and crumbling inscriptions. In front of her was a small, pathetic creature—barely a meter tall, its body shriveled and ancient, its head disproportionately large for its emaciated frame.

"So that's how you look," Gwenra said, her voice flat. "Pathetic."

She walked forward, ignoring the creature's whimpers, and spotted a red orb hovering in the center of the room. It pulsed with power, radiating an energy that made her skin prickle.

She reached out and consumed it.

The power flooded through her, and she felt her cultivation base expand, her understanding deepening. The Abyssal Hallucination Art—a technique that allowed her to create illusions so vivid they could trap even the strongest minds.

"This is just the beginning," Gwenra murmured, her eyes gleaming with determination. "I wonder what Lucien is up to now. I need to meet him as soon as possible."

Meanwhile, in another part of the dungeon, Lucien, Kelie, and Halfred walked through the ancient gate and into a world of fire and shadow.

The cave was massive—far larger than anything they'd encountered before. Multiple bridges spanned across a chasm filled with bubbling magma, their surfaces cracked and worn with age. Pillars of obsidian rose from the depths, their surfaces gleaming with reflected firelight. In the distance, a waterfall of lava cascaded from an unseen source, its crimson glow illuminating the cavern.

Lucien, Kelie, and Halfred began crossing the nearest bridge, their footsteps echoing against the stone. The heat was oppressive, pressing against their skin like a physical weight.

Then the monsters appeared.

They were massive—nearly two meters tall, with thick fur covering their bodies and giant bull horns curving from their skulls. Their teeth were like daggers, their eyes burning with feral hunger. Without warning, they opened their mouths and spat streams of molten lava directly at the group.

Halfred reacted instantly, summoning his Heavenly Flame to counter the attack. But the lava absorbed his flames without resistance, and the beasts continued their charge.

Lucien moved faster than thought, his halberd flashing in the dim light. He cut the nearest beast in half with a single strike, its body crumbling to ash as it fell.

"They seem to be fire-resistant," Lucien observed, his eyes scanning the remaining monsters.

Halfred nodded grimly. "I'll have to rely on my physical attacks then."

Realm masters in this world typically mastered only one element. If someone's family was skilled with flames, they focused exclusively on flame-based techniques. The same applied to healing, stealth, and every other discipline. It was a system that had persisted for generations—a tradition that few dared to challenge.

Lucien found it weak. Useless. If everyone used attacks that had been passed down through countless generations, eventually someone would find a counter. According to his philosophy, a jack of all trades might be a master of none, but was often times better than a master of one.

Lucien and Halfred fought the beasts with only their physical weapons, conserving their astral energy for more dangerous threats. Halfred's movements were precise, his blade carving through the monsters with practiced efficiency.

Then he saw her.

At the edge of the cavern, partially hidden behind a pillar, stood a girl wearing a hood. Her red hair was unmistakable—the same shade as his sister Marian's.

Halfred's eyes widened, his heart lurching in his chest. He wanted to go after her, to confirm what he was seeing. He slayed the beast in front of him and rushed toward the direction where she'd appeared.

But when he arrived, she was gone.

A beast lunged at him from the side, catching him off guard. Halfred stumbled, barely managing to raise his blade in defense. Lucien appeared beside him, his halberd flashing as he dispatched the creature with brutal efficiency.

"What are you doing, Halfred?" Lucien demanded, his voice sharp.

"I thought I saw someone," Halfred said, his breathing ragged.

"There's no one here, Halfred." Lucien's tone was firm but not unkind. "Are you out of your mind? I think you need rest. If you want, we can go back and come here after resting."

"No!" Halfred's voice came out harsher than he intended. "I'm fine."

Lucien studied him for a moment, his eyes unreadable. "Maybe it was just an illusion. This dungeon seems to enjoy playing with our minds."

Halfred didn't respond. He was lost in thought, his mind replaying the image of his sister's mangled body. He wanted to believe it was an illusion, but he also desperately wanted it to be real.

"Let's move forward," he said finally, his voice hollow.

They crossed the remaining bridges and emerged onto a wide path that seemed to stretch into eternity. The cave had transformed into something else entirely—a massive, open space that looked like a different world. Everything was red, from the sky to the ground to the mountains that surrounded them. They were small as ants compared to the structures that loomed overhead.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake. The mountains behind them crumbled, and from the rubble emerged a colossal humanoid structure. It stood at least fifty meters tall, its body made of dark black rock that gleamed with an oily sheen. Six massive arms extended from its torso, each one capable of crushing a building with a single swipe. Bull horns crowned its head, and lava flowed through its body like blood through veins.

Lucien and Halfred readied their weapons, launching simultaneous attacks at the behemoth. Their strikes hit with devastating force—but the creature barely flinched. It was like ants attacking an elephant.

Lucien immediately activated his Horizon Splitter, focusing the attack on the giant's leg. The technique had an effect—the creature stumbled slightly, its attention turning toward him.

Lucien took to the air, flying above the creature's reach. Halfred followed, using his Skybreaker Blade to assault the monster's chest. Kelie, having grown more confident in her combat abilities, targeted its face—a risky position, but one that kept her out of the creature's primary focus.

"We need to coordinate!" Lucien shouted. "Focus your attacks on the same point!"

Halfred nodded, and together they descended toward the giant's foot. They unleashed their most destructive techniques simultaneously, the combined force shattering the black rock. The creature lost its balance, its massive body tilting dangerously to the side.

But Kelie was too close to its face.

The impact of the creature's fall sent her hurtling through the air. She smashed into a stone pillar, the impact driving the breath from her lungs. She was falling—falling toward the lava that churned below.

Halfred saw her fall. He started toward her, his heart racing—

And then he saw her again.

The red-haired figure was behind a pillar, watching him. His sister's face, her body, everything same. The image seared itself into his mind, and before he knew what he was doing, his direction changed.

It wasn't purposeful. It was a reflex—a primal response to the trauma that had been eating him alive since the day she died.

Kelie saw it. She saw him turn away, saw him prioritize some figment of his imagination over her life. The betrayal cut deeper than any wound, sharper than any blade. Anger and sadness warred within her, threatening to consume her completely.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the end.

But the end didn't come.

Instead, strong arms caught her, pulling her back from the brink. She opened her eyes and saw Lucien's face—strained with effort, his jaw tight with concentration. He'd used his Shadow Predator technique to travel through the darkness and reach her in time.

She looked down and saw his leg was submerged in lava.

"No!" she screamed, panic flooding through her. "Your leg—!"

Lucien grunted, pulling her to safety. He dropped her on solid ground and collapsed, his leg smoking and blackened from the molten rock.

Kelie fell to her knees beside him, her hands already glowing with healing energy. But the basic healing techniques weren't working. She tried harder, pouring more astral energy into the wound—

"Kelie." Lucien's voice was calm, measured. "When you heal a burn injury, focus on one thing at a time. Start with the bone, then the tissue, then the muscles, then the skin. Repair them one by one."

Kelie stared at him, her mind racing. She'd never attempted anything like this before. Healers were taught to heal holistically, to treat the entire wound at once. But Lucien's advice was different—it was specific, methodical, and terrifyingly logical.

She closed her eyes and focused. Bone first. She could feel the damaged bone beneath his flesh, the cracks and fractures that had formed under the intense heat. She willed it to heal, to knit itself back together.

Then tissue.

Then muscles.

Then skin.

It was easier than she'd expected—far easier than trying to heal everything at once. Within moments, his leg was healed, the damage erased as if it had never happened.

"See?" Lucien said, sitting up with a faint smile. "This is called Burning Restoration Technique. What you just did was remarkable. If it weren't for you, my leg would have been permanently damaged."

"B-but you got hurt because of me," Kelie stammered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No." Lucien's voice was firm. "It wasn't your fault. You were helping us, and you had an accident. That's all. Do not ever blame yourself." He reached out, touching her cheek gently. "In fact, you helped us. I'm grateful."

Kelie's breath hitched. She couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken to her like that—with such genuine appreciation, such unconditional kindness. She'd spent years supporting others, healing them, saving them. And yet, no one had ever thanked her like this.

"I wish more people could appreciate me," she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Then Halfred appeared, his expression exhausted and hollow.

Kelie looked at him, and something inside her snapped. Rage—pure, burning rage—exploded in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to demand why he'd abandoned her, to make him understand the depth of his betrayal.

But she didn't say anything. The words wouldn't come. All she could feel was the cold certainty that something had changed between them—something that could never be repaired.

Author Note:

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