Ash swirled like dying fireflies across the hollowed sky. The Ashfall Grounds—long a sanctuary of silence—now felt like the beating heart of something ancient. A hunger that watched. A memory waiting to awaken.
Lucius stood alone at its center, eyes closed.
He had returned to the circle. Not to train.
But to finish.
He had crossed through pain, restraint, and reflection. Through phantom blades and the weight of decisions he had not yet made. Now, he stood not as a disciple—but as a vessel of intent. The Fang remained at his side, humming not with bloodlust but anticipation.
All that remained was the final cut.
Not against a foe.
But within himself.
He inhaled.
And the world broke open.
The air warped. The ash stilled. The sky turned darker—not with night, but with density. A gravity born not from the stars, but from the will of a single man.
Lucius stepped forward, and the stone beneath his feet cracked—not from power, but from certainty.
He drew the Fang.
And his Killing Intent fully bloomed.
No roar. No surge of flame.
Just... silence.
The kind of silence that arrived moments before death. The breath before a neck snapped. The instant a heart gave out without knowing why.
It spread across the Grounds, coiling through the air like a sentient fog. Birds fell mid-flight. Insects fled. Even distant disciples paused, clutching their chests, unable to breathe.
At that moment, every master, elder, and council member of the Velzarim Cult felt it.
A presence.
A finality.
An answer to a question no one had dared to ask.
Within the Hall of Embers, High Elder Vaelin's chains trembled without reason. He looked up from his scrolls.
"He has done it," he whispered.
Elder Zhaarn, miles away in a secluded tower, dropped a vial of cursed venom as his fingers spasmed.
Even the Ashen Blade, meditating in a distant chamber of mirrors, opened her eyes.
Her whisper echoed into the stillness.
"Not a weapon. A verdict."
Lucius did not move.
He did not need to.
The Fang pulsed in his hand, no longer separate from him. There was no more inner conflict, no distinction between will and steel.
He was the blade.
But mastery was not just unleashing the Killing Intent—it was understanding it. Directing it.
Lucius turned his eyes inward.
And what he saw nearly broke him.
A vision unfolded.
He stood in a world of glass and flame. Countless versions of himself—older, darker, burned or broken—surrounded him. Some laughed. Others wept. A few stood silent with blood on their hands.
"You think you've mastered us?" one said, face cracked and eyes hollow. "You only suppressed us."
"No," Lucius replied calmly. "I chose to know you."
Another stepped forward, robed in severed dreams and crowned in ash. "Then do it. Make the final choice."
Lucius stepped to the center of them all. The Fang lifted on its own, and the killing intent sharpened—not into a storm, but a scalpel.
He closed his eyes.
And with a single breath—accepted them.
Every life he could have lived.
Every person he could have killed.
Every path he could have taken.
He didn't deny them.
He simply chose to be the one that remembers.
The glass world shattered.
Lucius opened his eyes.
The Grounds were still. The Killing Intent now coiled gently around him like a dragon at rest. It no longer pressed outward. It waited. Ready to serve—not devour.
He had done it.
He had mastered 100% of his Killing Intent.
Moments later, footsteps approached.
Seris stood at the edge of the circle, her expression unreadable.
"It's done," she said quietly, more statement than question.
Lucius nodded. "It doesn't scream anymore."
She stepped closer, carefully. "What does it do?"
"It listens."
She studied him. "And what do you hear?"
Lucius turned toward the horizon. "Every decision I'll ever have to make."
Seris exhaled slowly. "Then you're ready for the next phase."
He turned to her. "The Council?"
"They know," she said. "Some fear you. Some want to guide you. A few… want to end you before your edge grows too sharp."
"And you?"
"I want to see what you become when the killing no longer defines you—but refines you."
Lucius looked at the Fang. Its edge was flawless now—weightless and terrible.
He sheathed it.
And for the first time, the world didn't tremble.
It watched.
Meanwhile — Within the Council of Nine
A thunderous silence ruled the Hall of Embers.
Flames flickered wildly, reacting to something unseen.
Elder Niruna broke the stillness. "We've raised a sword we can no longer sheath."
Elder Rehlan of the Blade Sect stood. "Then we must bend it. Before it bends us."
Rengard, seated quietly in the shadows, finally spoke.
"You don't bend a being who has mastered death," he said. "You invite him to choose."
Zhaarn spat. "Choice is weakness."
Rengard turned toward him. "No. Choice is evolution. He is no longer just a weapon."
"Then what is he?"
The flames dimmed.
And from the ceiling, a single chain fell loose.
Rengard whispered:"He is the result."
That Night — Atop the Ember Vault
Lucius stood on the summit, beneath the starlit sky. The ash had stopped falling. The heavens were still.
He looked at his reflection in the Fang. It no longer shimmered with fire or shadows. It was just steel.
But within it was the memory of every lesson, every strike, every death that didn't need to happen.
Seris joined him moments later, silent as the wind.
He didn't turn.
"I don't want to be remembered for how I kill," he said quietly. "I want to be remembered for what I didn't."
She smiled faintly. "Then you already walk a path the Cult never intended."
He looked at her. "And that's why they'll fear me."
She nodded.
"And maybe one day… follow you."
Lucius gazed into the stars.
The killing intent no longer clouded his vision.
It clarified it.
And from that stillness, something deeper stirred.
Not destruction.
Not salvation.
But command.
A power not to kill—but to decide who survives.
And that… was far more dangerous.
[End of Chapter 20]
Bonus Chapter 20.5: Introduction on Eight Main sects of Velzarim Cult
The Eight Main Sects of the Velzarim Cult
Within the darkened halls of the Velzarim Cult, power is not merely inherited—it is forged, sharpened, and tested. The cult is divided into Eight Main Sects, each a school of martial philosophy and lethal practice. Every sect is more than a fighting style; it is a doctrine, a belief system, and a path to supremacy. Together, they form the spine of the cult's hierarchy, with disciples rising through blood, discipline, and destruction.
While each sect serves the will of Malgath Voruum, the Crimson Tyrant of the Abyss, their rivalries, doctrines, and ambitions often bring them into conflict. Let us now delve into the Eight.
1. Sword Sect — Doctrine of Absolute Severance
Philosophy:Perfection through precision. The sword does not hesitate. It ends.The Sword Sect trains its disciples to see the battlefield as lines to be redrawn. Every motion is exact, every breath calculated. Emotion is a hindrance. Their elite can split thought from flesh with a single swing. They are often sent to judge rogue disciples or execute silent assassinations.
2. Blade Sect — Doctrine of Wound and Memory
Philosophy:A wound is a lesson written in blood. Scars remember when minds forget.Unlike the refined Sword Sect, the Blade Sect embraces brutal, close-quarters combat. Their weapons are jagged, their strikes designed to tear instead of cut clean. They believe in endurance through suffering, and their bodies are often littered with self-inflicted scars to honor their pain and progress.
3. Poison Sect — Doctrine of the Unseen End
Philosophy:Death is not always swift. It festers, crawls, and blooms.The Poison Sect wields toxin as both weapon and philosophy. They infiltrate, corrupt, and dismantle from within. Masters of biological warfare and forbidden alchemy, they craft poisons that can silence bloodlines or paralyze entire cities. Their disciples rarely speak aloud, and their training grounds are veiled in mists of rot.
4. Music Sect — Doctrine of Harmony and Control
Philosophy:To control the heart, strike the soul's rhythm.The Music Sect wields instruments infused with martial qi, crafting sound into emotional and psychological warfare. Their melodies can pacify a riot or incite madness in a single note. Though elegant in demeanor, their leaders are some of the cult's most feared interrogators and mind-breakers.
5. Fist Sect — Doctrine of Will Made Flesh
Philosophy:The body is the first weapon. Break it. Reforge it.The Fist Sect rejects all weapons. Through harsh physical training, gravity resistance, and internal energy compression, they turn their bodies into engines of destruction. They believe true strength is forged from enduring more pain than the world can offer. Their elders can crush spirit beasts barehanded.
6. Spear Sect — Doctrine of Distance and Dominion
Philosophy:Space is the illusion. The spear is truth.Masters of reach, pressure, and battlefield control, the Spear Sect teaches overwhelming dominance through fluid motion. Every movement of the spear covers both offense and defense. Their duels often end before opponents can approach. They teach students to strike with both foresight and ferocity.
7. Wind Sect — Doctrine of Flow and Formlessness
Philosophy:To be untouchable is to be unknowable.The Wind Sect trains in evasion, redirection, and unpredictability. Their style appears almost passive, but their strikes land when the enemy is most off-balance. Wind disciples rely on motion and rhythm, often using lightweight weapons or none at all. The greatest among them are said to vanish between breaths.
8. Flame Sect — Doctrine of Purification through Fire
Philosophy:All that survives fire is worthy.Drawing upon both internal and external flame arts, the Flame Sect believes in trial through burning destruction. They train in combustion, ignition-based strikes, and soul fire techniques. Their cultivators can incinerate armies or burn through lies. Their initiation rites often leave apprentices permanently marked—scarred by fire, reborn in power.
Each sect contributes uniquely to the cult's dominion. Some train assassins, others lead legions. Some embrace beauty, others brutality. But all walk the path toward one ultimate truth:
Only through conflict, suffering, and refinement does one become worthy of the Abyss.
[End of Bonus Chapter 20.5]