The Hidden Monster of House Vale

"Lucien," Delian said, her voice carrying across the open space. "The Black Fog Incident is about to begin."

The words hung in the air like a death knell. Everyone fell silent, processing the implications. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.

Lucien's mind raced through the knowledge he'd inherited from the previous owner of this body. The Black Fog Incident only happened on the last day of the Ancient Breach. The Ancient Breach opened for one month, an endless dungeon that trapped all who entered until the month ended. It was a lawless place where anything could happen—where fortunes were made and lost, where lives were claimed and destroyed.

The Black Fog Incident was the last night of the Ancient Breach. Thousands of realm masters from different countries, different realms—like Zarah—all converged in this place. Some made fortunes and grew stronger. Others lost everything: their strength, their friends, their families, their lovers, their very souls.

And on the last day, desperation took hold.

Greed consumed the greedy. Lust consumed the lustful. Fear consumed the fearful. The Ancient Breach became the most dangerous place in existence on that final night—the Black Fog Incident. History never recorded what happened during those hours, because those who survived were too broken to speak of it, and those who died took their secrets to the grave.

It was almost evening now. Whoever survived until morning would be the victor. It didn't matter if they'd stolen the treasures or earned them—now they belonged to the survivors. The gate to exit the Ancient Breach would open at dawn.

'But that doesn't make sense,' Lucien thought, his brow furrowing. 'We had almost half a month left when we entered the Hollow Grave of Death Pit. Could it be...?'

"It seems like time moves slower in the Hollow Grave," Gwenra said, voicing the thought that had just crossed his mind. "We hardly spent ten days there, but here, fifteen days have passed."

Lucien nodded slowly. "That explains it. We lost time without realizing it."

"We've been waiting for you," Delian continued. "Things are becoming dangerous. People are forming factions."

"Why would they form factions?" Gwenra asked, stepping forward to stand beside her childhood friend. "If they're so desperate, they should be attacking each other. Why join forces at the last moment?"

Delian's expression grew serious. "Their target is... Lucien."

The revelation hit the group like a physical blow. Quindic stepped forward, his face pale. "Why? Lucien was inside the Hollow Grave with us. He hasn't done anything to provoke them!"

"Lucien has drawn the most attention," Delian explained, her voice grim. "Everyone knows he killed Marson Modric. They assume he must have obtained incredible treasures from that victory. There are two reasons they're targeting him: first, his obvious wealth in treasures; and second, because he's now a peak Spirit Forge realm master. They see him as a threat—someone who could one day challenge their clans or states. They want to eliminate him before he becomes an even greater danger."

Everyone was stunned. No one had anticipated this level of attention. They knew Lucien was strong, but even an elephant could be brought down by enough ants.

Lucien listened to everything, his expression unreadable. Then a slow smile spread across his face—a smile that sent chills down the spines of everyone who saw it.

"How touching," Lucien said, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "They actually believe numbers matter."

Gwenra recognized that smile. She'd seen it before, in the dungeon, just before Lucien had done something impossible. He always had the ability to turn misfortune into fortune, to transform disaster into opportunity. She was intensely curious about what his next step would be.

Delian, however, was genuinely frightened for him. She knew Lucien was strong—perhaps even stronger than before—but she couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

Rosra and Kelie didn't know what had happened in the Ancient Breach before Lucien entered the Hollow Grave. They didn't know what he'd done to draw so much attention. But unlike before, they trusted him implicitly. They knew Lucien would figure something out—or that something would happen, something that would be written about in history books for generations to come as Nightmare.

The Ancient Breach was supposed to be a place where people hunted monsters and explored dungeons for rewards. Now the realm masters were hunting Lucien, treating him like prey.

On a massive mountain, five realm masters led an army of thousands. It was already night—the hour when monsters usually emerged. But tonight, the monsters stayed hidden. Even they understood the danger of the Black Fog Incident. On this night, humans became so desperate that they would kill anything and anyone. The monsters knew better than to interfere.

"Are you sure Lucien Vale went this way?" asked Kazos, one of the five leaders. His soldiers stood behind him, weapons drawn, eyes fixed on the path ahead.

"Yes," replied Morak, another of the five. "I received information that he formed a team with seven realm breakers and entered some dungeon. Since it's the last day, I know they must be here."

Kazos nodded, scanning the mountain range. "Then we did the right thing, surrounding the mountains. If we attack together, he won't stand a chance—especially after coming out of a dungeon. He must be weakened already."

"But wouldn't the seven realm breakers try to help him?" Kazos asked, his brow furrowed.

Morak laughed. "He killed one of their members. They won't lift a finger to help him. Besides, they're well known for their trade relations—they might even help us kill him. That would make our job much easier."

Kazos smiled at the thought. "Interesting. After we kill him, I just want to leave this place. I haven't seen my seven-year-old son in a month. I miss his face."

"You have a son?" Morak asked, genuinely curious.

"Yes," Kazos said, a rare warmth entering his voice. "He always wants to play with me, especially when I'm cultivating. He doesn't understand why I have to work so hard." He paused, glancing at Morak. "What about you? Do you have any family outside?"

Morak's expression softened. "I have my mother. I'm a commoner—I worked hard to reach this level. I just wanted to give her everything, to make her life easier."

Kazos laughed. "You look like such a shady guy, but you're actually quite soft."

"Ha! Being a realm master is truly not easy," Morak agreed. Then his expression sharpened. "It seems like they've found something. They've stopped."

Morak and Kazos pushed through their soldiers to see what had caused the commotion. When they reached the front, they saw him.

Lucien Vale.

The man they'd been hunting stood alone at the top of the mountain, his golden eyes fixed on the thousands of realm masters arrayed against him. His blonde hair brushed his neck, his sharp jaw set in a cold expression. There was no fear in his eyes—not even contempt.

The mountain was covered with realm masters like ants on a mound. Thousands of cultivators, all armed and ready, all focused on the single figure before them.

"Everyone attack!" Morak screamed, raising his weapon.

"Attack!" Kazos echoed.

The army surged forward, a tidal wave of fire, water, lightning, and wind. Attacks of every element rained down on Lucien from all directions.

Lucien began to float into the air, his gaze never leaving the army before him. The attacks came close—but none of them touched him. They dissipated before they could reach his body, as if an invisible barrier surrounded him.

He looked down at the thousands of realm masters with something approaching pity.

"They look so eager," Lucien murmured, his voice carrying across the battlefield despite the chaos. "It's almost a shame they'll never return home."

Kazos unleashed his World Fire technique, a massive inferno that could reduce a city to ash. Morak followed with Divine Gale, summoning winds sharp enough to cut through steel. They both launched themselves at Lucien, their attacks converging on him with devastating force.

Then something changed.

Morak felt it first—a searing pain that seemed to tear at the very fabric of his soul. It was as if his essence was being sucked into an abyss, as if invisible chains were tearing him apart from the inside.

He looked up and saw Lucien's hand gesturing downward, his lips forming a single word:

"Soul Void."

Morak's eyes widened in terror. He tried to scream, but no sound escaped his throat. His body went limp, and the last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was thousands of realm masters collapsing around him, their bodies crumpling to the ground like puppets with their strings severed.

In a single moment, thousands of cultivators fell. Their souls were sucked into a place where no god could reach, their lifeless bodies scattered across the mountain like broken dolls.

Lucien looked down at the carnage with cold indifference. "Losers."

They hadn't stood a chance. The difference between a peak Spirit Forge realm master with ancient techniques, abyssal skills, and the Abyssal Body Core Physique versus ordinary realm masters was like the difference between heaven and dung—not heaven and earth.

Earlier, when Delian had delivered her warning, the group had immediately decided to help Lucien.

Gwenra had asked the question everyone was thinking: "So what's the plan?"

Lucien had turned to her with a dark smile. "There is no plan. This isn't a battle." He paused, his golden eyes gleaming. "They planned a hunt. I'll make it a massacre."

Gwenra didn't doubt him for a second. "Then our job is to loot everything they have." She turned to the group, her voice taking on a commanding tone. "Everyone, order your soldiers and retainers to take everything from their corpses and bases. Kill every single one of them. They need to understand that the seven realm breakers are still alive and not to be mess with."

Everyone agreed without hesitation.

Lucien, however, had other plans. He didn't want anyone to witness him using soul techniques—they were taboo, associated with demonic realm masters. In the outside world, he still needed support from Gwenra, Delian, and everyone else. He couldn't afford to be labeled a demonic cultivator.

He planned to hunt alone, giving Gwenra and Delian free rein to do whatever they wanted with the spoils. But he also had another objective: to gather as many soul points as possible.

A new idea formed in his mind, and he smiled. "Oh, this is interesting. This will be far more entertaining than I anticipated."

The remaining realm masters—thousands more—were approaching the mountain from all sides. Their movements were coordinated, their weapons ready. They believed they had the advantage of numbers.

Then they stopped.

Something was waiting for them at the base of the mountain—something that radiated a primal, unadulterated evil.

The beast was purely white, but there was nothing pure about it. Its head was a nightmare of overlapping teeth, visible even when its mouth was closed. Where its eyes should have been, there was nothing—just a continuous plate of white bone armor. Yet, despite its blindness, its snout tracked the movements of the approaching army with frightening precision.

From its cranium erupted two massive bull horns, curving forward like spears. Beneath the horns, a tangle of ten thick, tentacle-like limbs whipped through the air, each one covered in bone-like spikes. Its body was a fusion of horror and majesty, a creature that defied all natural law.

It was Valgos.

Author Note:

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