Chapter 39: Lucian VS "Simon" (2)
The battlefield shook hard, like the ground itself was angry, trembling under the clash of energies so strong it felt like the air was screaming. Dark mana leaked from the fake Simon, pulsing like it was alive, crawling over the broken stone like black veins spreading fast. The ground cracked wider, splitting open with jagged lines, the intensity of their power twisting everything around them into something ugly and wrong.
Prince Silvan stumbled back, one hand clutching his chest, his golden aura flickering weak, like a candle about to go out. His face was tight, his usual calm broken as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Christopher stood across from him, fists still up, his teeth gritted, sweat mixing with dirt on his face.
"Look, Your Highness," Christopher said, his voice sharp, fed up. "Is that really Simon? Or are you finally catching on to what I've been saying this whole damn time?"
Silvan's brows pulled tight, his pride stung, his voice shaking just a bit. "W–what are you implying, Christopher?" he asked, like he didn't want to hear the answer but had to.
Christopher snorted, shaking his head, his eyes rolling. "Are you blind, or just pretending? That guy—your so-called Simon—he's not even human. Look at him! His body's literally melting!" He jabbed a finger toward the center of the battlefield, where "Simon" stood, his flesh rippling like black water, his face flickering between different shapes, none of them right.
Silvan's eyes widened, his breath catching as he turned to look. The "Simon" he'd trusted, fought beside, was shifting unnatural—skin sliding like liquid shadow, eyes glowing with a sick violet light, his form breaking apart like a bad illusion.
Christopher sighed, his voice heavy. "Hah. This is why I hate serving under royalties like you. Except for Princess Celestia, at least she's got a damn brain."
Silvan's face burned, his fists clenching, but before he could snap back, another explosion roared from the center of the ruins—where Lucian was locked in a brutal fight with the shapeshifter, the air around them crackling with power.
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Lucian vs the Fake Simon
The shapeshifter screamed, a raw, guttural sound that didn't sound human anymore, his corrupted mana tearing through the air like a storm. His black aura spiraled out, a living vortex that sucked in chunks of broken stone and twisted metal, spinning them like leaves in a windstorm. He stretched out both hands, his fingers tracing intricate sigils that glowed with an unholy violet hue, sharp and wrong against the smoky sky. "Dark Art—Chains of Abyssal Binding!" he roared, his voice echoing like it came from somewhere deeper than his throat.
Dozens of shadow-chains burst from the ground, writhing like snakes, black and slick, pulsing with energy that could crush a 6th Class mage to nothing. They shot toward Lucian, fast and tight, aiming to wrap him up and end it.
For a moment, Lucian didn't move. His deep black eyes tracked the chains with a calm that felt almost lazy, like he was watching something boring, not dangerous. The chains hit, wrapping around his arms, legs, and chest—tight, suffocating, their dark energy buzzing with enough force to break bones.
Celestia gasped, her sword trembling in her hand. "Lucian!" she called, her voice breaking with panic.
The shapeshifter grinned, his jagged black teeth glinting in the dim light. "What's the matter, Blackstar? You're not as untouchable as you think! Now DIE—"
But before he could finish, Lucian's voice cut through, calm and steady, almost bored. "It seems," he said, each word clear, "your dark magic doesn't work on me, Mr. Shapeshifter."
The fake Simon froze, his grin slipping. "W–what?" he stammered, his voice cracking.
Lucian's eyes glowed faint with demonic light, a cold, eerie shine that made the air feel heavier. The chains around him started to crumble, dissolving like ash in the wind, erased by the strange resonance of his mana, like it was rejecting the dark magic outright.
"If I were you," Lucian went on, his tone dropping to something polite but mocking, like he was talking to a kid, "I'd surrender, give up and run away. Maybe go back to your little cult… and beg your daddy god for mercy to not get punished."
The shapeshifter's face twisted with rage, his whole body shaking, black smoke pouring from his skin like he was burning from the inside. "You… YOU FUCKING BRAT!!!!!" he screamed, his voice half-human, half-something else.
He charged, his sword morphing into a massive black scythe, the blade cutting the air in half with a force that shattered the ground behind him. He aimed straight for Lucian's chest, the strike meant to rip him open.
"LUCIAN!!!" Celestia screamed, her voice raw, her heart pounding as she took a step forward, helpless.
Inside Lucian's head, the Wraith King's voice echoed, desperate and sharp through their link. "{My lord, avoid! Dodge his attack—he's at full power! I know and you know how strong a 7th Class Dark Mage is, my lord! Please, move!}"
But Lucian didn't budge. He tilted his head slightly, like he was thinking it over, then raised his leg slow, deliberate.
In one smooth motion, his foot slammed into the shapeshifter's face with a force that cracked like thunder.
CRACK!
The sound echoed across the battlefield, loud and final. The shapeshifter's body flew back, smashing through a half-broken stone pillar and slamming into the wall behind it, the stone crumbling around him like a grave.
For a moment, the battlefield went dead quiet, the only sound the faint hiss of ash falling.
Celestia stood frozen, her mouth slightly open, her sword hanging loose in her hand. The Wraith King's voice in Lucian's mind went silent, like it couldn't believe what just happened. Silvan and Christopher, paused mid-fight, stared with their jaws slack, the prince's golden aura flickering like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
Christopher was the first to speak, muttering under his breath, "…Did he just kick that guy like a goddamn training dummy?"
Lucian lowered his leg, his face still cold, his breathing even, like he'd just stepped over a puddle. The shapeshifter twitched in the rubble, his face caved in, black ichor spilling like tar, pooling around him. But before he could pull himself together, Lucian moved again—blurring forward so fast it was like he teleported, appearing right in front of the crumpled figure.
Without a pause, Lucian drove his knee into the shapeshifter's gut, hard and precise.
THUD!
The impact sent a shockwave through the ruins, dust and ash exploding outward. The fake Simon coughed up a gush of black fluid, his body convulsing, shaking like it was trying to hold itself together.
Then came another strike—Lucian's heel slammed into the shapeshifter's knee, snapping it with a sickening crack that echoed like a broken branch.
"AAAARGHH!!!" The shapeshifter's scream was raw, more beast than man, his voice warping as his form flickered, the disguise breaking apart.
Lucian looked down, his eyes cold, no mercy in them, just a quiet, steady focus. "You're too noisy bug," he said, voice flat, like he was stating a fact.
He raised his left foot high, his silhouette sharp against the dusty light, and brought it down in a brutal axe kick, slamming into the shapeshifter's chest. The ground cratered beneath the impact, a deep, jagged hole spreading out.
BOOOOM!
Lucian stood over the writhing, broken figure, his face as calm as ever. The shapeshifter's human shape was gone now, melted into a grotesque mess of inky black, limbs twitching, eyes glowing violet through the mess.
"Worm," Lucian muttered, his voice low and cold, like he was naming something beneath him.
Then he spat on the creature's face. The saliva hit the black ichor with a sharp hiss, burning it like acid, the shapeshifter groaning in pain as his body trembled, his regeneration slowing under Lucian's mana pressing down like a weight.
Celestia watched, her heart pounding hard, her breath caught in her throat. There was no pity in Lucian's movements, no hesitation—just a quiet, precise kind of violence that felt like it came from somewhere deep, somewhere old. Even Serene, standing a few meters off with her rapier resting on her shoulder, watched with a faint smile, her crimson eyes half-lidded, like she was enjoying a show. "Fufufu~ As expected of my Lucian. Brutal and beautiful at the same time," she said, her voice low, almost purring.
Christopher rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head slow. "Remind me never to piss that guy off…" he muttered, half to himself, his eyes still locked on Lucian.
Silvan clenched his fists, his golden aura flaring weak, his pride burning under the weight of what he'd just seen. The man he'd called lazy, worthless before, was treating a 7th Class Dark Mage like a bug to be squashed.
Lucian turned his back on the fallen shapeshifter, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. 'This isn't over,' he thought, his mind sharp and cold. 'He's not dead yet.'
Behind him, the shapeshifter's black form started to bubble and twist again, pulling itself back together, regenerating fast, the violet glow in its eyes flaring brighter. The next round was about to begin.