The Hidden Monster of House Vale

Valgos unleashed its Abyssal Death Ray, a devastating beam of darkness that consumed astral energy and life force in an instant. Those caught in its path didn't even have time to scream—they simply ceased to exist, their bodies dissolving into nothingness. Others fell to its massive claws, were crushed under its enormous feet, or were impaled by the bone-like spikes that covered its tentacles.

No one was spared.

The mountain had become a slaughterhouse. Realm masters who had come to hunt Lucien found themselves being hunted instead, their desperate attacks glancing off Valgos's bone armor like rain on stone. Some saw Lucien using soul techniques and tried to flee—but they died just as quickly as the others. It didn't matter whether they wanted to attack or surrender. In this place, in this moment, there was only death.

And on top of Valgos, Lucien sat.

He watched the carnage unfold with cold indifference, his golden eyes scanning the battlefield like a predator surveying its domain. The screams of the dying were music to his ears, a symphony of despair that fueled his growing power. With each soul that was consumed, he grew stronger, his connection to the Abyss deepening.

Delian, Gwenra, Quindic, Rosra, Kelie, Isalyn, and Fayie fought alongside him, but they weren't with him. Lucien was alone on the mountain, hunting while they attacked the camps of other realm masters. The benefits they reaped were immense—robbing those who had earned treasures through their own blood and sweat, crushing anyone who stood against them.

Every person who had come to kill Lucien was now being robbed of everything they owned. Their treasures, their cultivation resources, their weapons—all of it was taken by Lucien's group. Those who resisted were killed. Those who surrendered were killed anyway. There was no mercy, no quarter, no forgiveness.

This wasn't a fight between countries or clans or ideologies. This was a brutal demonstration of a simple truth: without laws, the strong dominate everything. Whatever they said became right. Whatever they opposed became wrong. And against seven peak Spirit Forge realm masters fighting together—with Lucien's power far above average peak Spirit Forge masters—the thousands of realm masters never stood a chance.

No matter how many numbers they had, it meant nothing against someone wielding ancient powers. And now Gwenra had acquired ancient illusion techniques as well, making her even more formidable than before.

The only survivors were those who had hidden well enough to escape Lucien's notice. But even they would carry the scars of this night forever.

Delian stood with her retainers, Helynn and Celia, alongside Gwenra and Seraphina. They watched the mountain from a distance, their ears filled with the sound of screams—so many screams that they blended into a single, unending chorus of terror.

Delian had always known that Lucien held many secrets. She'd seen glimpses of his power, his ruthlessness, his willingness to do whatever it took to achieve his goals. But this—this was beyond anything she'd imagined.

When she was with Lucien, he was so caring, so gentle. He held her like she was something precious, something worth protecting. He whispered sweet words in her ear and made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. It was during their secret nights in the Ancient Breach—nights when she'd betrayed her husband and surrendered herself to the man who had captured her heart—that she'd seen that side of him.

'He's so kind to me,' Delian thought, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and adoration. 'But to his enemies... there is no one in this world as ruthless as Lucien Vale.'

Gwenra watched the mountain with calculating eyes. She knew that what Lucien was doing would have consequences—but she also knew that he was making himself untouchable. No one who witnessed this night would dare to challenge him.

'No matter what it takes, I want Lucien on my side,' Gwenra thought. 'There are many things I have to take care of after leaving the Ancient Breach.'

Before they realized it, the sun began to rise. The night was over. The Black Fog Incident had ended.

Delian and the others gathered, waiting for Lucien. But he didn't come. The gate was about to open, and there was no sign of him.

"I'll go towards the mountain," Gwenra said, her voice firm. "He was there all night. I might find him there."

Rosra and Seraphina exchanged worried glances. What if something had happened to Lucien? What if he'd been overwhelmed by the sheer numbers? The thought sent a chill down their spines.

Gwenra made her way up the mountain, her steps careful and deliberate. The snow that had once covered the peak was gone, replaced by something far more sinister.

The mountain that used to be white with snow, covered in trees and black rocks, was now a deep, vivid crimson. Blood had soaked into every surface, staining the snow, the rocks, the trees—everything. The waterfall that cascaded down the mountain's face had become a river of red, carrying the lifeblood of thousands down into the valley below.

Gwenra stopped, her eyes wide with shock. She couldn't blink. She couldn't look away. In her decades of life, she'd seen wars—brutal, bloody conflicts that had claimed countless lives. But she had never—never—seen anything like this.

No corpses remained. No bodies littered the ground. It was as if someone had eaten everything, consumed every trace of the thousands who had died here.

'No one will ever know how many people he killed tonight,' Gwenra thought, her mind reeling. 'They'll only know the mountain turned red.'

She looked up toward the mountain peak, and a smile spread across her face. She laughed—a genuine, heartfelt laugh that echoed across the blood-soaked landscape.

"You really outdid yourself this time, Lucien," she said, her voice filled with admiration.

She felt a presence behind her. When she turned, Lucien was there, his expression calm and amused.

"Did I impress someone unknowingly?" he asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe," Gwenra replied, her grin widening.

She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. "Tell me, Lucien—you're the one who killed everyone, right from the start? Killing Marian and Perie, to breaking Halfred—it was all you?"

Lucien's expression didn't change. "And what if I did? Do you want revenge?"

Gwenra laughed. "I couldn't give a shit about them." Her gaze sharpened. "Tell me, Lucien—are you a demonic cultivator?"

Lucien was silent for a moment. Then he stepped closer, his face inches from hers. "What if I am?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Are you going to blackmail me?"

"So you think I can blackmail someone who painted a mountain red just to become powerful?" Gwenra asked, her grin never wavering. "Besides, you already know my secret, don't you?"

Lucien's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Hmm... let me guess. Your secret of being a demonic cultivator using illusion?"

"Isn't that too specific for a guess?" Gwenra asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Maybe. Does it matter? Who knows—perhaps I can read minds."

"Oh, I bet you cannot."

Lucien chuckled. "So what's your plan?"

Gwenra's expression grew serious. "Meet me a month after we go outside. I have a favor to ask."

Lucien's eyes traveled down her body, lingering on her chest. "Oh, I'll definitely meet you again after we leave this place."

Gwenra rolled her eyes. "My eyes are up here."

"Are they?" Lucien asked, his smile widening.

Gwenra shook her head, but she was still grinning. "Let's go. The others are waiting. If they see this mountain, they'll go crazy. They might even see you as a threat."

Lucien laughed—a cold, confident sound. "They need another hundred years to even reach me. By the time they do, I'll be thousand years ahead."

Together, they descended from the blood-soaked mountain, leaving behind the Red Mountain Tragedy—an event that would be whispered about for generations, but never recorded in any history book.

The gate to the Ancient Breach was already open when they reached the others. Other realm masters who had survived the night were also emerging, their faces pale and haunted. They'd hidden well enough to escape Lucien's notice, but they'd heard the screams. They'd known what was happening on that mountain.

They were grateful to be alive—grateful beyond measure. As long as they drew breath, there would be other opportunities, other chances to grow stronger.

But they would never forget what they'd witnessed that night.

"Outside this gate, my daughter is waiting for me," Delian said, her voice filled with longing.

"It was the longest month of my entire life," Celbeth agreed.

"I'm really tired," Hellyn added. "All I want is to sleep in a good bed."

"Gwenra," Delian said, turning to her friend, "do you want to have tea with me after we go out?"

Gwenra smiled. "Yes, it's been a while since we had a get-together. We have so much to catch up on." She winked at Delian, teasing her.

"I don't even know what to say if the Modric family asks me something," Natey said, her voice filled with worry.

"Don't worry," Celbeth said, wrapping an arm around her. "I'll protect you."

She leaned closer to Natey's ear, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And besides, you belong to Lucien now, don't you?"

"Celbeth!" Seraphina scolded. "Don't tease her!"

"Oh, then who should I tease?" Celbeth asked, turning her attention to Seraphina. "You? You still haven't told me the details of that night when you and Lucien disappeared at the lake—"

Seraphina immediately covered Celbeth's mouth with her hand, her face flushing crimson.

It was hard to believe that these same people had been massacring thousands just hours ago. Now they were laughing, joking, teasing each other like old friends. And why shouldn't they be happy? They were the winners. They'd earned the most profit in the Ancient Breach.

Others had lost limbs, loved ones, their very will to live. But Lucien and his group had gained everything.

They stepped through the gate, emerging into the outside world.

Families were waiting—thousands of people gathered to welcome their loved ones back from the Ancient Breach. Some cried with joy, embracing their returning family members. Others dropped to their knees in despair, realizing that their loved ones would never return.

The Modric family was there, waiting for their two sons and their guardian, Marson Modric. But no one came.

Lucien spotted Delian's family: Eliss, her daughter, standing with Novius Alde, her father. Eliss immediately rushed forward, throwing her arms around her mother.

"Mother! I'm so glad you're safe!"

Delian embraced her daughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm here, Eliss. I'm here."

And then Lucien saw them.

His father, Segast Vale, stood with his mother, Elora Vale, and his other wives, Liley Vale and Rosebeth Vale. They were standing with Novius, their faces filled with worry and anticipation.

Lord Vale stepped forward, his eyes meeting his son's. "Welcome back, Lucien," he said, his voice warm with relief. "We were worried about you."

Author Note:

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