"Old Han..." Leon whispered, his voice barely louder than the dying wind. "I'm sorry... it should've been me who got hurt, not you… This is all… my fault..."
Tears slid slowly from the corner of his eyes, dripping down onto a face drained pale by guilt. Once again—someone he loved, the only family he had left—lay broken before him.
Because of him.
His tears broke free, unrestrained. His chest heaved, every breath deepening the gaping wound in his soul. If only he'd gone in first… Hanrick wouldn't be lying there like this.
Then, through the suffocating silence, came a faint sound—so soft it could've been mistaken for the whisper of a dying breeze.
Leon's head snapped toward it, eyes wide.
Hanrick was still breathing—his body limp, barely moving. But his eyes cracked open, and his lips quivered, trying to speak.
"It's not your fault, Leon…" he murmured weakly. "I'm… glad it was me. Not you…"
His words were gentle. But to Leon, they struck like a blade straight to the heart.
More tears spilled down his cheeks. His fists clenched, knuckles turning white, his entire body trembling. The regret twisted inside him like venom with no cure.
He knew. He knew.
He had seen the cracks at the entrance of the cave—and ignored them. They weren't normal. Someone had been there before them. Someone had set this trap.
Grief began to shift, replaced by something far more volatile. Fueled by the embers of rage, a fire stirred within him, devouring the remnants of guilt.
His face hardened. His eyes sharpened like daggers, jaw clenched, breath slow and heavy—like a predator poised to strike.
"Whoever you are... who did this..."
His voice was low, nearly a whisper—but it carried a weight that couldn't be denied:
The intent to kill.
"...I will find you."
Not a promise.
Not a threat.
A vow.
And just then, footsteps echoed through the fractured cave.
Five figures.
Uniformed.
The Creed Mountain Order... had arrived.
---
Back at the villa.
Inside a room filled with spiritual energy, Lucas sat cross-legged on a couch beside the bed. A handheld game console was glowing softly in his hands—but clearly, his mind wasn't on the game.
Every so often, his eyes flicked toward the jade lying next to Sofia.
The energy flowing from Sofia's body was immense, but none of it could be harnessed for cultivation. All of it was being absorbed—by the jade. Like a black hole, it devoured the foreign power from another dimension.
Lucas knew something was happening. And silently, he waited.
In that moment, the air around him began to vibrate. A new aura… strange and ancient… emerged out of nowhere. Lucas turned swiftly.
The jade—began to rise, levitating gently into the air.
A faint smile curled on his lips. Not surprise. Not fear.
Anticipation.
He rose to his feet, calm and unhurried, his steps light as he approached.
BRASH!
A burst of golden light exploded from the jade, so blinding Lucas instinctively shielded his eyes with an arm. The room was consumed by it—no shadows, no colors, just gold. Radiant, warm, and divine.
And when the light finally receded… he opened his eyes.
Sofia looked more at peace. The spiritual energy in the air had dissipated. And—before him…
Something emerged, a woman.
Two meters tall. An astral form with long, flowing golden hair. Her beauty was breathtaking, radiant beyond mortal understanding. She wore an ancient silk robe that shimmered with both power and elegance.
Her eyes opened—stunning, with obsidian-green irises that drew the soul in.
Lucas smiled.
"Hello, Athena."
Her gaze snapped toward him, brows raising in surprise and suspicion.
"You're not Leon. And how do you know who I am?"
Lucas smirked casually. "Who doesn't know the goddess of wisdom and war? Athena..."
It was true. Athena—from Greek mythology—real, alive, and standing before him. And he had known all along.
Athena narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
"Leon's brother. Technically," Lucas replied with a shrug. "But let's be honest—my face is clearly the superior one. Genetics can be unfair."
"Arrogant," she said coldly. "But looks aren't everything. Talent is what matters."
Lucas grinned. "So, you think Leon has more talent than I do?"
"I don't need to explain it to you. Return the jade to its rightful owner. You have no claim to it."
Her voice had sharpened, edged with a threat.
Lucas tilted his head. "And if I refuse?"
"Then prepare yourself, boy. Even without a body, my soul can tear yours apart from the inside. Give the jade to Leon… before I change my mind."
"Or what? You'll possess me and twist my soul from within? How classic," Lucas said calmly. "Do you really think my soul is that fragile?"
A tense silence filled the air.
"…You know?" Athena's voice was laced with disbelief.
Lucas stepped closer, his hand closing around the jade. His gaze locked onto her.
"I know your trick. And right now, you're like a fish in a glass tank. One wrong move… and your vessel—boom—shatters. You vanish."
Athena said nothing. The jade was her vessel—she could feel it. If it were destroyed, so was she. And something about this boy was… wrong. He knew too much. Too easily.
And Lucas knew that she knew.
"You don't want to disappear, do you?" he said softly, but firmly. "Because if you're gone, who will carry out your plan for revenge?"
Athena narrowed her eyes, gaze sharp. "And how do I know I can trust you?"
Lucas replied without hesitation, his voice steady. "Because in this world, I'm the only one who can help you. Not Leon. Not anyone else. Just me."
She studied him, eyes searching. There was something in Lucas—something different. She could feel it. Stronger than Leon, more dangerous… yet somehow, more compelling.
But even as she acknowledged his strength, she also saw what he lacked—something Leon had, and Lucas didn't.
Moments passed in silence, thick with tension. Then finally, Athena spoke, her voice cool and measured.
"Very well. But only on one condition."