Lilith
Pillar isle Dungeon
Pillar isle
North Pillar Ocean
America continent
April 17th 6415
Eduardo and I were both Master Stage experts. And yet, under the suffocating rhythm of their Pack Synchronization, it felt like we were trading blows with a single Master—a single mind—fighting us through dozens of bodies.
It wasn't just their speed. It was the way they moved—perfectly layered offense and defense. The riders on the Silver Moon Bears pressed with relentless force, their mounts crashing through stone and root, while those on foot darted through the chaos like silver-edged shadows.
The Alpha stayed behind them, untouched, unreadable, his stance steady as a monolith. I could feel him in the air itself—his will threading through the Pack's telepathic link, directing every feint, every strike, every evasive leap. I'd tried to break through to him more than once, but their formation was airtight. Impregnable. The moment I lunged forward, three others were already there to intercept.
Wind curled around my legs, wrapping them in twisting currents. I let the spell guide my steps, boosting my footwork, making me lighter, sharper. My hammers pulsed with alternating streams of golden and obsidian light—heartbeat, my enchanted hammer siphoned mana into them, weaving elemental force into the metal.
It still wasn't enough. My mana reserves hadn't recovered from Everlasting Sunset—the technique had burned through almost everything. The slow, stubborn conversion of my spirit energy into mana couldn't match the pace of this fight, not against wolves that moved like lightning and bears that hit like avalanches.
Beside me, Eduardo's gunblades roared in staccato bursts, his movements crisp and controlled. But every time a shot connected, the target twisted away, momentum bleeding the damage into the trees or the ground. He was forcing them to adjust, but he wasn't dropping any of them.
"As long as we are under a full moon, the Lycans are at their highest peak," Aeternum's voice slid into my mind like a cold truth. "The moon empowers them, giving them strength beyond their cultivation rank."
I risked a glance upward through the fractured canopy. Silver light poured through the gaps in the leaves like spears of liquid metal. Aeternum was right—its pull was everywhere, binding them, fueling them. Even I could feel it, the way the mana between each of them braided into a single living current, cycling from wolf to rider to Alpha and back again.
They weren't just fighting as individuals. They were fighting as one body. And that body was far stronger than anything at the Awakening Realm should be.
"There has to be something we can do," I muttered, tightening my grip on the hammers before slamming them together. The clash rang out like a bell, releasing the spells I'd been holding.
First came the Void Spear—a tier-four darkness spell. A concentrated lance of shadow condensed in the air, pulling heat from the atmosphere until it shimmered like molten glass. The air warped around its edge as it launched forward, carrying the same unstoppable momentum as a charging train.
It was followed immediately by Prism Cutter—a tier-four light construct. A crystalline prism flared into existence, refracting sunlight into a thousand razor beams before focusing them into blinding, surgical lines meant to slice through anything they touched.
For a moment, the forest glowed with two opposing forces—midnight shadow and radiant gold—racing side by side toward the Lycans.
The Alpha Wolf moved for the first time. He didn't dodge. He didn't retreat. His arms swept forward in a commanding motion, and a field of silver energy erupted from the ground beneath his Pack's feet. It was like moonlight made solid—thick, luminous, and rippling with power.
The moment my spells hit that barrier, the world flipped. The energy bent, twisted—then reversed. Both my Void Spear and Prism Cutter ricocheted back toward us with twice the speed, accompanied by the metallic scream of ricocheting gunfire as Eduardo's bullets reversed course as well.
"—Damn it!"
I kicked off the earth, twisting high into the air as the ground where I'd stood erupted in a cyclone of light and shadow. The shockwave tore through trees, shredding bark and splintering trunks like matchsticks.
From the corner of my eye, Eduardo blurred toward a distant tree, sliding into cover with perfect control. His gunblades clicked and spun as he reloaded, his expression unreadable in the flickering silver light.
I was running on scraps of mana—my core was still cycling, pulling essence from the soul core to weave more, but it was a slow drip compared to what I needed. Not nearly enough to push back against the Lycans… especially with that shimmering field warping reality and hurling our attacks back in our faces.
"I have no choice," I breathed. My voice was low, more to myself than to Eduardo.
This was the last card I'd sworn I wouldn't play. The one I'd locked away, buried under the weight of memory and guilt. This power was born the moment Jennifer died—stained with her blood, sealed with her final scream. The Divine Protection of Thanatarch. The Mark of Kain. It was more than a gift—it was a curse.
I felt it stir beneath my skin, as if some ancient predator had been waiting for permission to come out. The runic brand on my chin began to crawl, black and crimson lines spreading across my jaw like veins of molten metal. The markings pulsed, drinking in the light around me, until I felt the surge—the raw, violent swell of Vampiric divinity flooding my veins.
Power. Strength. Hunger. It all came rushing in at once. Then the pain hit. It was not the sharp sting of a wound, nor the dull ache of exhaustion. This was deeper—a tearing, raking agony that shredded the very threads of my soul. My knees almost buckled as the sensation ripped through me, each heartbeat like a hammer striking glass. I tasted copper. My vision doubled. And still the Mark spread further.
Aeternum's voice echoed coldly in my mind, the warning he had given me long ago: "Divine protections always demand a price. They grant power… but they carve their due from what you are. The flaw of your blessing is written into your essence. When you call on the Mark, you will feel pain that nobody can endure… because it is your soul they are cutting."
Now I understood what it meant. Every nerve, every thought, every flicker of will felt like it was being flayed open. The ground seemed to recoil from me. The silver glow of the moonlight bent, shadows lengthening like they were leaning toward me. Eduardo's head snapped my way, his eyes widening—not in fear, but in recognition that something had changed.
Then I heard it—the first break in the Lycans' unity. Their movements faltered. The rhythm of their synchronized strikes stumbled. The Silver Moon Bears beneath them let out low, uneasy growls. Even the Alpha, who had stood unflinching behind his warriors, leaned forward slightly, nostrils flaring, his eyes narrowing.
Predators recognizing a greater predator. The Mark throbbed hotter, my pulse syncing with its beat. It hurt like hell. But for the first time since the fight began… they hesitated.
I let Heartbeat fall silent, the weight of my hammers slipping from my grip and sinking into Aeternum's pocket space. My hand rose instead for the weapon I hadn't drawn in months—the broken katana.
The moment my fingers closed around its worn hilt, it stirred. The fractured blade hummed faintly, its jagged edge catching the moonlight like a shard of bone. Even in ruin, its core still pulsed with dormant life. Some of the runes etched into its surface had long since faded, leaving gaps in the flow of enchantment. Once, it had been a Sacred-grade blade, an apex of craftsmanship and power. Now… it was a relic with teeth broken—but not blunted. It didn't matter. The Mark's energy welcomed it like an old friend.
Primal Harmonics resonated with the divine current running through me, feeding into the steel. A dark-purple aura coiled around my body like smoke from a celestial forge, the color deepening to near-black where it touched the katana's spine. The fractured edge began to burn with a pale, ghostly light—holy radiance braided with something older, heavier, more dangerous. I drew in a slow breath, the taste of cold metal and blood on my tongue, and let my mind open.
The Star Core within me flared, amplifying my mental force until it was a tidal wave of pressure radiating from my thoughts. The air shimmered under it, as if reality itself were bending. And then… I slipped in. Through the cracks in their unity. Through the threads binding them together.
The telepathic link of the Lycans thrummed all around me—snarls, intent, shared instinct woven into an unbroken circuit. I could feel their hunger, their certainty, their obedience to the Alpha's will.
And I could feel the hesitation creeping in, like frost forming on glass.
What kind of unholy creature is she? The Alpha's thought rippled through the pack's telepathic link like a whipcrack. The others caught it instantly, their minds echoing the same question—some in fear, others in awe.
I must inform the Prince of this situation… the Alpha's voice shifted to cold resolve.
I moved before that thought could leave him. My aura swelled outward, pressing against the forest like a collapsing sky, forcing the air into a heavy, suffocating stillness. The broken katana rose in my grip, its fractured edge glimmering with a pale light that bled into the shadows. Primal Harmonics surged, feeding my Ability Factor, its deep purple mist curling around the blade—only for the pale radiance to consume it, swallowing even the moonlight bleeding through the canopy.
[Dancing Twilight: Devouring Bliss]
The fractured edge exhaled, and the forest drowned in light. A sweeping wave of pale brilliance, laced with violet currents, tore forward in all directions. The Lycans' silver barrier shuddered—then folded in on itself, threads unraveling under the touch of my power until nothing of it remained.
The ground split open in a chorus of cracking roots and breaking stone. Trees vanished into disintegrating ash within seconds, leaving jagged silhouettes in their wake. Even Eduardo was forced to retreat, slipping back through the ruins to keep from being swallowed whole.
The Lycans howled—some in defiance, others in pain—as the moonlight itself bent toward them, trying to shield their forms. But my technique gnawed through it, piece by piece. Controlling it was like wrestling with a living storm; the pale energy twisted violently in my grip, the fractured katana trembling as if it too feared the power flowing through it.
A tempest of silver and violet raged outward, indiscriminate in its hunger. It didn't care for allies or enemies—it only sought to erase.
Then came the pain. Not the simple ache of mana exhaustion—this was a searing, soul-deep agony, as if each breath was tearing threads from my spirit. The Devouring Bliss turned its hunger on me.
The Mark answered.
From the base of my jaw, its blackened runes flared, uncoiling into a web across my skin. Eschaton energy wrapped me in a shroud, thick and cold, meeting the pale radiance head-on. The Devouring Bliss clawed at me, but the shroud refused to break, dissolving each strand of destructive light before it could pierce deeper.
The Mark of Kain was not just a curse; it was also a shield. Without it, the forest would not be the only thing consumed. The howls changed pitch. Not pain. Not fear. A call.
From the thinning mist at the far edge of the clearing, the Alpha stepped forward at last. His silver-black fur shimmered in the moonlight, each step deliberate, claws biting deep into the ruined earth I'd stripped bare. The glow in his eyes was no longer the steady greenish-yellow of before—it was molten silver, pulsing in time with the heartbeat of the moon above.
"You dare defile our sacred grove," his voice thundered—not aloud, but inside my skull, resonating like a drumbeat behind my eyes. "You will leave nothing behind for the worms to find."
The pack moved instantly, as if tethered to him by an invisible chain. Silver moon bears bounded into position, their riders leaning low as they drew crescent-bladed spears. The ground shivered under their weight.
The Alpha spread his arms. The moonlight poured into him in ribbons, wrapping his body until his silhouette burned with argent fire. I felt the air tighten, my breath hitching—he was not raising a barrier this time. He was shaping the moon's power into something sharper.
A dome of silver light erupted outward, but instead of shielding, it pulled in. Everything—ash, splintered wood, shattered stone—was drawn toward him in a spiraling cyclone. In the vortex's heart, the Alpha's claws extended, each one a curved arc of moonlight honed to a killing edge.
I tightened my grip on the katana. The Devouring Bliss was still active, but my mana core screamed, and the Mark burned hotter with each passing heartbeat. He moved. One blink—empty space. The next—his claws were inches from my throat.
I caught the Alpha's strike on the broken katana, steel ringing against claw. Pale light flared from the blade, licking hungrily at the argent fire wreathing his talons—yet the silver flame didn't yield. It pushed back, rippling like molten moonlight, and in the clash I felt its force bend and hurl my own radiance toward me.
The Mark seared hot against my skin, the veil it conjured deflecting the backlash. The Alpha pressed harder, his killing intent pouring into me like a storm tide. But compared to the metaphysical agony the Mark inflicted with every breath, his mental assault was almost… soothing. I dug my heels into the torn earth, gritted my teeth, and swept the katana in a horizontal arc meant to take his head. Lunar fire swelled to meet it, my blow glancing harmlessly away.
Come on, I screamed inwardly at the pale energy. Devour.
It answered—wildly. The light around me condensed, growing denser, sharper, until its radiance gnawed at the argent flames. The Alpha's eyes narrowed at the shift, but he didn't falter. His form expanded, bones cracking, muscles bulging beneath fur as silver streaks rippled through his deep green coat. Armor and skinsuit dissolved in the pale glow, but he ignored the loss.
Silver runes spiraled into existence around him, the forest groaning as if dragged to heel by his will. Primal spirits emerged, moonlit and snarling, merging into his aura until an avatar of moonlight and raw nature stood against me. My pale light clashed with its bulk while the rest of the pack poured their mana into him, their unity sharpening his power into something crushing.
Damn it… not enough. The Mark's strength was slipping. My mana core scraped its last dregs while his presence grew heavier, more oppressive. This was their ground, their moon, their home. The advantage was his.
And yet—I still hadn't gone for the kill. Even now, even with the pale energy surging at my call, I'd been holding back. Some fragment of restraint, some stubborn tether to mercy, dulled the edge of my power. That hesitation was why no Lycan lay dead at my feet.
My heart skipped. A flash of Ariella's face. The thought of her alone. And in that heartbeat, my fear tipped into something darker. My shadow swelled beneath me, yawning outward. Dark purple light bled from it, curling up my body as the pale radiance winked out. In its place rose an energy steeped in malevolence—a hunger to erase all things.
The Alpha's aura collapsed under the weight of it. The force exploded outward, flinging him and his warriors through the forest like leaves in a gale. Trees splintered. The ground heaved.
And then—light. A golden shimmer rose from my core, warm and absolute, wrapping me in a lattice of runes. The darkness hissed and recoiled, drawn back toward the depths it had come from.
My knees weakened. My vision swam. But I knew this touch—Mary's gift. Grace, Jack had called it. A safeguard she'd buried in me for the day I stopped resisting my own abyss.
And then—a silver streak ripped through the air. It struck the ground before the fallen Lycans with an impact that split stone and soil, sending a shockwave through the grove.
From the settling dust rose a young man, tall and broad-shouldered, silver hair catching the moonlight like spun frost. His battle-robes—deep navy and charcoal—were threaded with faintly glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. Over them, a ceremonial mantle draped lightly across armor traced in lunar filigree, each etching catching the light as if alive.
His golden-green eyes swept the field, cool and assessing, and though his features bore the unmistakable mark of a Lycan, his presence was something wholly different. Power coiled in him—clean, absolute, oppressive—and it made even the Alpha seem small.
"A Kain Vampire," he said, voice smooth, carrying a weight that felt older than he looked. "Interesting. My father spoke of your kind, but I never imagined I would see one for myself." His gaze hardened, the warmth of curiosity fading to the steel of judgment. "But this… is sacred ground. You've spilled sin upon it with every step, and I will not permit you to heap more upon my people."
His aura flared, a tide of silver radiance crashing over the grove, drowning out my own. In one fluid motion, he drew a sword wreathed in argent flame, the light bending toward it as though in worship.
[Moonfang Mirror – Mirror of Kings]
Moonlight surged from the blade, weaving itself into a great translucent dome that unfolded across the battlefield. Its surface shimmered like still water under starlight, but the power in it was sacred and absolute. The instant it touched me, it stripped away the golden shimmer and the dark purple hunger alike, scouring them from my body.
Agony lanced through me—raw, pure, inescapable. My knees buckled. My vision fractured into shards of white. And before I could draw another breath, the pain swallowed my thoughts whole, dragging me down into unconsciousness.
****
"That's her. She's always gloomy," a boy's voice whispered from somewhere behind me.
"I heard she was the first one here."
"No… they say she's the only one who survived the first treatment."
The voices tangled together like threads of smoke, curling around my ears, but I didn't look up. I sat in the farthest corner of the white-walled room, knees tucked close, fingers absently shifting the small wooden blocks scattered across the floor. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, and the hum of the overhead lights pressed against the silence between the whispers.
A shadow fell across the toys.
I glanced up to see a girl standing there, her brown hair cut just above her shoulders, freckles dusted across her nose, and green eyes bright with a warmth I wasn't used to seeing. She smiled—small, tentative, but real.
"Hi, I'm Jennifer."
For a moment, I only stared, caught off guard. No one else had ever bothered to cross the invisible space people seemed to keep between themselves and me.
"…Lilith. Lilith Kain," I said at last.
Her smile grew.
Another day. The courtyard.
The sun was pale behind thin clouds, its light soft against the square of white stone and faded grass. Jennifer and I walked side by side, both dressed in loose white linen shirts and short pants, our bare feet cool against the stone path. Children darted around us—laughing, chasing, playing—while we stayed in our own little pocket of quiet conversation.
"My checkup went great," Jennifer said, her voice carrying a kind of pride. "The doctor said I'm perfectly healthy now. Just a few more treatments and I won't need to see him anymore." She looked at me expectantly. "What about you?"
"I don't do checkups anymore," I said, keeping my eyes on the path. Then, after a pause: "Jennifer… I'm leaving soon."
She stopped, blinking at me. "Leaving? What do you mean?"
"My father's coming to take me away. He says it's not safe here anymore." I hesitated, turning to her. "Do… do you want to come with me?"
Her expression shifted—first confusion, then sadness, a little frown pulling at her mouth. She looked down, thinking, before lifting her gaze again, this time steadier.
"Yes," she said softly. "I'd love to come with you."
-
Ariella POV
I was beginning to get tired of waiting. The sense of time had dissolved long ago, eaten away by the Dungeon's stillness. My legs ached from sitting, my thoughts growing restless. I was seconds from standing up and confronting the Lycans at the door, just to break the monotony.
Then it hit me.
A ripple crawled over my skin—goosebumps rising along my arms and neck. An icy twist settled in my gut, sharp enough to steal my breath. It was a feeling I knew all too well, one that dragged my mind instantly to a single person.
Lilith.
The guarded doors shifted with a heavy thunk. The hinges groaned as the panels opened just enough for the flickering silver-blue light inside to spill across the threshold.
Prince Erik stepped out.
Gone was the composed, untouchable calm he'd worn earlier. His stride was fast, his expression tight. Concern carved deep lines into his features as he crossed the chamber toward us.
Greta was already on her feet, her posture alert. Ben and I rose immediately, falling in at her flanks.
"Are you the only ones who came through the Dungeon?" Erik asked sharply, scanning our faces.
"No," Greta said without hesitation. "We were separated from some of our comrades."
His eyes narrowed, the weight of his gaze briefly pinning us. "So there's more of you."
The tone in his voice had changed—less curiosity, more tension. His jaw tightened as he turned away from us with a low, frustrated growl. Without another word, he strode off, his boots echoing against the moonglass floor in the opposite direction of the ritual chamber.
I glanced at Greta. "What's going on?"
Her expression had shifted, sharp with focus. "It's Lilith," she said. "I can sense her power from here."
I blinked. "I thought perception didn't work under moonlight."
"It shouldn't," Greta said, her voice low but certain. "But Lilith's power isn't moving through the physical plane." Her gaze flicked toward the ritual doors, sharp as a blade. "It's spilling through the metaphysical space. That's why even this Dungeon can't mask it."
She started forward, her stride quickening. "We need to follow the Prince."
Greta didn't wait for agreement. She was already moving, and Ben and I fell in behind her, boots ringing against the moonglass floor. My pulse was pounding hard, a drumbeat in my ears. The anxiety was strange—sharp and twisting—like my body couldn't decide whether to brace for battle or flee.
We moved through a broad archway where the corridor opened into a high, moonlit balcony. Ahead of us, Prince Erik was already airborne, his form cutting through the silver haze as effortlessly as a hawk.
Greta's hand swept in a quick circle, etching runes of pale azure light into the air. The spell burst outward, a rush of wind spiraling around us in a tight current. My feet left the ground, the air cradling us for a heartbeat before surging upward, carrying us into the sky.
The cold struck first—sharp, clean, and biting—and then the world below dropped away in a sweep of silver shadow. The wind whistled past my ears as Greta guided us higher, the mana-infused currents humming under my skin.
Far ahead, Erik was a streak of motion, his speed unnatural even for someone of his realm. He was widening the gap, the moonlight catching briefly on his silver mantle before he vanished over the horizon. Greta gritted her teeth, tightening the spirals of wind around us, forcing more speed into our flight. We narrowed the distance, but barely.
Then, the forest appeared beneath us—vast and endless, every tree crowned in silver leaves that shimmered like molten starlight.
That's when I felt it. The pressure hit like a physical wave, seizing my lungs for a heartbeat. Rising from deep within the forest, a wall of power poured into the sky—a roiling mix of darkness and golden light that twisted together like a living storm.
It wasn't calm. It wasn't controlled. Lilith's mana was wild—feral and unbound—its chaotic pulse making the very air shiver around us. The forest seemed to bend beneath it, the moonlight warping where the two forces clashed.
My stomach tightened. Whatever was happening down there… Lilith was at the center of it.
The prince hit the ground like a meteor, his landing erupting in a shockwave that sent leaves and silver dust spiraling through the air. By the time our feet touched down, he had already drawn his blade. Moonlight gathered along the steel, flaring into a sudden arc before expanding into a solid dome of light that sealed him and Lilith inside.
I didn't think—my body just moved. I sprinted straight toward the shimmering barrier, my eyes locked on the figure trapped within.
"Lilith—!"
Before I could reach it, an arm hooked around my waist and yanked me back.
Eduardo.
He held me fast, his grip like iron. A split second later, the dome erupted in a deafening blast. The air cracked and warped from the release, a tidal wave of mana flattening the silvergrass where I had been about to step.
"You'd have been torn apart," Eduardo said, his voice steady despite the chaos.
I barely heard him. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Fear, dread, and a raw, suffocating anxiety clawed at my chest. The thought of Lilith being gone—being taken from me—sent my mind into a spiral.
"It's alright," Eduardo said, his tone quieter now. "She's okay."
The dome's light fractured and faded. As the smoke and dust settled, I saw her.
Lilith lay crumpled in a shallow crater, her clothing shredded, streaks of blood marking her pale skin. Her wounds were closing—but slowly. Too slowly. Her chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.
I tore free of Eduardo's grip and vaulted down into the crater, sliding over the churned soil. My only thought was get to her.
By the time I reached her side, Prince Erik was already there, crouched low, two fingers pressed lightly against her neck.
"Get away from her!" I snapped, my voice breaking.
He looked up at me, calm as ever. "She's fine. The Mark protected her."
I didn't care what he said. I slipped my arms under her and pulled her against me. Her body was warm, too warm, and trembling faintly. Tears blurred my vision as I clutched her tighter. I didn't care that her torn clothes left her half-exposed—only that she was breathing.
Above me, silver light coalesced into a hovering cube—Aeternum. Its polished faces rotated slowly, and then the Codex's spirit form unfolded into the air beside me, luminous and ethereal.
Prince Erik's gaze lingered on the cube, his brows drawing faintly together. But he said nothing. He couldn't see the spirit form.
"She's alright," Aeternum said, its voice carrying that strange calm that always felt both reassuring and otherworldly. "The Lycan's strike knocked her unconscious. She'll live. But it would be better if she stays inside me."
I nodded, my grip tightening for just a moment more before I let the magic take her. Lilith's body dissolved into silver motes, drawn into Aeternum's core. The cube spun once in my palm before settling, its weight suddenly more precious than any relic or weapon. I held it close, as though my life depended on it. In truth, it felt like it did.