Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

A few days passed, and the army slowly regained its structure, the chaos of battle giving way to order once more, even though the scars remained, both on the land and on the soldiers themselves. The injured had been stabilized as much as their limited resources allowed, makeshift stretchers prepared, formations adjusted to accommodate those who could no longer fight, and supplies carefully rationed for the journey ahead. There was no illusion among them that what lay ahead would be easy, but there was a shared understanding that standing still was no longer an option.

Inside the command tent, the atmosphere was tense but focused, the king standing over the map alongside Commander Alexander and Captain Varran, their attention fixed on the route that would take them to Blackmare Kingdom. The Abyss lay between them and their destination, and even without being physically present there, its weight could already be felt in the room.

"We move at first light tomorrow," the king said, his voice firm, though the concern beneath it was unmistakable. "But before that, we must settle how we intend to cross the Abyss. We managed it before, but this time..." his gaze shifted slightly, "...this time we are not the same force."

The ice belle hasn’t fully recovered yet, so she’s in no condition to help Lucas.

Commander Alexander nodded, his expression serious. "We have too many injured," he said. "Even those who can walk are weakened. The terrain of the Abyss alone will slow us down, and if we’re forced to carry the severely wounded across unstable ground..." he paused, letting the implication settle, "...we will lose people before we even reach the other side."

Captain Varran folded his arms, his tone more blunt. "It’s not just a risk," he added. "It’s a guarantee. One slip, one shift in the terrain, and men are gone. The Abyss doesn’t forgive mistakes, and in our current state, we can’t afford any."

The king exhaled slowly, his hand resting on the edge of the table as he thought. "Leaving the injured behind is not an option," he said firmly. "We do this together, or not at all."

A brief silence followed.

Then the empress spoke.

"You will not need to worry about the crossing," she said calmly.

All eyes turned to her immediately.

She stood composed, her presence steady, her expression unreadable yet confident, and there was something in her tone that made it clear she was not offering a suggestion, but stating a fact.

The king straightened slightly. "Explain," he said.

She stepped closer to the table, her gaze briefly passing over the map before returning to them. "When we reach the Abyss," she began, "I will take responsibility for ensuring the army crosses safely."

Commander Alexander frowned slightly. "Your Majesty," he said carefully, "even for someone of your strength, the Abyss is not something to take lightly. Its energy disrupts balance, interferes with control, and..."

"It will not interfere with me," she said, cutting him off, her tone still calm, but carrying a quiet authority that silenced the rest of his objection.

Varran narrowed his eyes slightly. "You’re saying you can suppress it?"

She shook her head faintly. "Not suppress," she replied. "Overpower."

There was no arrogance in her voice.

Only certainty.

Lucas, who had been standing slightly apart, listening, understood immediately what she meant, because he could feel it, the difference in her now compared to before, the depth of her power, the refinement of her celestial energy, and more than that, the subtle shift that placed her beyond the constraints that once limited her.

The king studied her carefully. "And the injured?" he asked. "They cannot endure instability, not even briefly."

"They will not have to," she answered. "I will stabilize the path itself. The disturbances of the Abyss will not reach them while I am present."

Commander Alexander exchanged a glance with Varran, both clearly weighing her words, but neither could find a flaw strong enough to challenge her confidence.

"And how long can you maintain such control?" Alexander asked.

"As long as it is needed," she replied without hesitation.

The tent fell silent for a moment as the weight of her assurance settled over them, and slowly, the tension that had been building began to ease, not completely, but enough for a path forward to become clear.

The king nodded at last, his voice regaining its firmness. "Very well," he said. "Then we proceed as planned. We move at first light, and when we reach the Abyss... we place our trust in you."

The empress inclined her head slightly. "You will not regret it."

Lucas remained quiet, his gaze resting on her for a moment longer before shifting back to the map, his mind already preparing for what lay ahead, because even with her power ensuring their passage, the journey itself would still demand vigilance, discipline, and strength, and the war waiting beyond the Abyss would not be any kinder than the one they had just survived.

The next morning came with a quiet urgency that settled over the camp, the kind that did not need to be announced because everyone already understood what lay ahead. Soldiers moved with purpose, armor being fastened, weapons secured, the wounded carefully prepared for transport, and formations beginning to take shape as the army readied itself to depart. Lucas, however, moved in a different direction first, his steps leading him back toward the healer’s tent, because no matter how pressing the march was, there was something he needed to see with his own eyes before they left.

When he stepped inside, the atmosphere was calmer than it had been days ago, the tension replaced with a cautious stability, and at the center of it, Elder Gideon lay supported against a raised bedding, his condition still fragile, but no longer on the brink of death. His breathing was steady, his complexion improved, and when his eyes met Lucas’s, there was clarity in them again.

"Xavier..." Gideon’s voice came out weak, but it was clear, no longer broken or fading.

Lucas moved closer immediately, a quiet relief settling in his chest at the sound of his father’s voice. "You shouldn’t be talking too much," he said, though there was no real reprimand in his tone.

Elder Gideon gave a faint, tired smile. "If I don’t speak now, I might miss the chance again," he replied slowly. "I heard... what you did."

Lucas didn’t respond immediately, his gaze softening slightly as he stood beside him. "You just focus on recovering," he said. "We’ll talk properly when this is over."

Gideon studied him for a moment, as though wanting to say more, but understanding the situation well enough to hold back. He gave a small nod instead, his strength clearly limited, but his awareness intact, and that alone was enough for Lucas.

Lucas turned slightly and motioned for Vorde, who stepped forward at once, standing straight with a serious expression. "You stay with him," Lucas said firmly. "Watch him closely during the journey. Any change, no matter how small, you report immediately."

Vorde nodded without hesitation. "Understood. I won’t leave his side."

Lucas held his gaze for a brief moment, ensuring the weight of that responsibility was understood, then gave a small nod before turning back to his father one last time. "Rest," he said quietly.

Then he left.

Outside, the army was already forming up, the long column beginning to take shape as units organized themselves for the march ahead. Lucas didn’t linger, moving directly toward the front lines where his squad was already assembling, their presence marking the spearhead of the force. Bartho and the others acknowledged him as he approached, their expressions steady, ready.

"We take point," Lucas said simply.

They didn’t need further explanation.

As the vanguard, they moved first, stepping ahead of the main army, their pace controlled but purposeful, eyes scanning the terrain, senses alert for any sign of danger. The rest of the army followed behind in structured waves, the wounded positioned carefully within the formation, protected on all sides as they advanced.

The numbers were noticeably thinner now.

Barely over three thousand remained.

What had once been a far larger force had been reduced through battle, sacrifice, and loss, and though no one spoke of it openly, everyone felt it, the absence of those who had fallen, the weight of what it had cost them to reach this point.

Lucas walked at the forefront with his squad, his expression calm, his mind focused, the wind brushing lightly against him as they moved roughly half a mile ahead of the main army, carving the path forward, ensuring it was safe for those behind them.

This was their role now.

To lead.

To face whatever came first.

And as the army of what remained of Valerion marched toward the Abyss and beyond, there was no turning back, only the long road ahead, filled with uncertainty, danger, and the promise of another war waiting on the other side.