A week passed.
Lucien trained lightly, rebuilding his body bit by bit. His physique improved steadily, though he avoided pushing too far.
But his Soul Forging Cultivation remained stagnant.
To cultivate the soul, one needed to sense the changes of Heaven and Earth.
He couldn't.
His Soul Sense was trapped within his body, unable to reach outward. Without that connection, normal cultivation was impossible.
From his mother, Lucien learned how Aerondor had broken through—by confronting and overcoming his Heart Demon.
That word lingered in Lucien's mind.
He devoured books from the Royal Library, learning everything he could about Heart Demons.
They were not actual demons.
They were obsessions. Regrets. Hatred. Fear.
Inner thoughts that corroded the mind and shackled the soul.
Most cultivators stagnated because of them.
Lucien realized something unsettling.
If conquering a Heart Demon can lead to breakthroughs…
Then that's my only path right now.
But he frowned.
"I don't think I have one," he muttered.
That night, Jasmine stood by the window of her chamber, moonlight bathing the room in silver.
"Mother," Lucien said quietly, "I don't think I have any Heart Demons left. How can I increase my Soul Forging Cultivation?"
Jasmine blinked.
Then she laughed softly.
"Lucien," she said, turning to him, "only peak experts can truly know whether they have Heart Demons or not. Do you think you're a peak expert?"
Lucien froze. "No."
"Not even your father is considered one in the grand scope of this world."
Embarrassment washed over him.
Jasmine's expression then turned serious.
"Confronting a Heart Demon intentionally is extremely dangerous. If you fail, the backlash could damage your soul—or worse, twist your personality."
Lucien clenched his fists.
"Mother," he said firmly, "I want to confront it."
"No," Jasmine replied immediately. "I won't allow it."
"Then I'll ask Father."
He stood up and walked toward the door.
"You—!"
He opened it.
"Fine!" Jasmine snapped. "Come back!"
Lucien returned, suddenly obedient.
She sighed, rubbing her temples.
"You still won't reconsider? Your future is long."
"No," Lucien said calmly.
"This isn't a game," Jasmine warned. "One mistake, and you're finished."
His heart raced—but his resolve didn't waver.
Jasmine stared at him for a long moment, then finally spoke.
"…Have you heard of the Redemption Tower?"
Her eyes darkened.
"The one near the Imperial Prison," she continued slowly. "The place where those deemed 'redeemable' confront their sins."
Lucien fell silent for a moment, weighing Jasmine's words before answering.
"I've heard of it," he said slowly. "Isn't the Redemption Tower meant to give prisoners a second chance? Those who truly repent are freed, right? That's why it's called 'Redemption.'"
Jasmine let out a quiet breath and shook her head.
"That's the story told to the public," she said. "The truth… is far more complicated."
She gestured for Lucien to sit, then continued in an even, measured tone.
"The Redemption Tower has three levels. Prisoners beg, kneel, and even trade away years of their lives for the chance to enter it. To them, it represents hope." Her eyes darkened slightly. "But hope is a luxury few actually receive."
She paused briefly, then skipped ahead.
"The first two levels are trials of endurance and will. Pain, fear, despair. Most never even reach the third floor. But the last level… the Redemption Level… that is where the legend truly lies."
Lucien listened intently.
"That final level forces the prisoner to face their heart demon," Jasmine continued. "All the filth buried in their soul is dragged into the light. If they overcome it, their soul becomes cleaner, purer. Officially, those who succeed are said to be 'redeemed' and may even be recruited by the Imperial Family."
Her lips curved into a faint, bitter smile.
"That part is only half true."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"The real purpose of the third level is not redemption. It is control."
Lucien's pupils shrank.
"The formation there uses a precious treasure," Jasmine said. "But its power is never meant to fully cleanse the soul. It only provokes the heart demon. While the prisoner struggles within their inner world, a second formation activates."
She tapped lightly against her chest.
"A slave seal is imprinted directly onto their soul. By the time the prisoner believes they've 'passed' the trial, they've already lost their freedom forever."
Lucien felt a chill creep up his spine.
"They are then taken by the Imperial Family," Jasmine went on. "Some are placed openly in the army. Others are assigned to hidden squads. From that moment on, they exist only to obey. They cannot resist. They cannot betray."
She straightened and looked at Lucien carefully.
"That is the ugly truth of this Empire."
For a moment, the room was silent.
Then Lucien laughed softly.
"Yes," he said, the sound hollow. "Being a slave… I've experienced that once. It's unbearable."
Jasmine stiffened.
But Lucien continued, his voice calm.
"Still, if those people were used to protect you and Father during the rebellion… then I don't care. As long as those scum are alive and standing between danger and my family, it's worth it."
Jasmine stared at him, stunned.
"…You have some twisted values," she said after a moment, then smirked. "But choosing your family over the Empire?" She chuckled. "I like that."
She nodded slowly.
"They were used as shields during the rebellion," she admitted. "At first, I felt pity. Later, when I learned what crimes most of them committed… that pity disappeared."
She met Lucien's gaze squarely.
"Remember this, Lucien. As members of the Royal Family, we will not hesitate to sacrifice others if it means protecting our own."
Lucien nodded.
He understood.
This world was not Earth. Mercy without power was meaningless. If he wanted to stand at the summit, he would have to step over corpses. Thousands of them.
Still, hearing such cold resolve from his gentle mother stirred something in him.
What kind of betrayal did she endure? he wondered.
He knew little of her past. Only that she was not originally from the Elysia Empire.
Jasmine suddenly smiled, breaking the heaviness.
"I'll ask your father to disable the first two levels and activate the complete formation on the third floor," she said. "Normally, we would never use the treasure like this. But you are different."
She placed a hand on his head.
"You're my son. And you're a genius in Soul Forging. We won't waste this chance."
Lucien's eyes lit up.
"Thank you, Mother!"
Relief and excitement surged through him. He had feared she might refuse, but she had trusted him instead.
*
The next day.
The Redemption Tower loomed in silence.
Lucien stood before it, wrapped in a black robe that concealed his small frame entirely. A dark mask covered his face, hiding even his eyes. With his size and attire, he looked more like a wandering ghost than a child.
Jasmine was absent.
Only Aerondor stood beside him.
"You're lucky," Aerondor said quietly. "Less than ten percent of the treasure's power remains. If it were stronger, I would've used it myself long ago."
He glanced down at Lucien.
"But are you truly prepared?"
Lucien nodded once.
Aerondor sighed. He knew better than to argue.
"Go directly to the third floor," he instructed. "And remember… what you face there will come from your previous life."
Lucien paused for half a heartbeat.
Then he stepped forward.
Hidden beneath his hood, his lips curved into a faint smile.
*
The third floor of the Redemption Tower was eerily bright.
Candles lined the walls, their flames steady and unmoving. At the center stood a tall altar, glowing softly as if bathed in sacred light. Upon it lay a simple mat, waiting.
Lucien removed his hood and approached.
The moment he sat down, the room trembled. Light poured down from the ceiling, forming a spherical barrier around him.
The formation activated.
Lucien closed his eyes and began circulating Sacred Luminance Mist.
Almost immediately, a strange sensation tugged at his heart. His thoughts blurred. His emotions felt heavier, dragged downward by an unseen force.
Then—
The world shattered.
When Lucien opened his eyes again, the light was gone.
He stood in a narrow, suffocating space.
"This… where am I?"
His breath caught.
The walls. The smell. The cold floor beneath his feet.
Too familiar.
"…No," he whispered. "This is…"
His old cage.
No—his old home.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
Calm down, he told himself harshly. This isn't real. This is just my heart demon.
Before he could steady himself, a scream tore through the air.
"Mister! Please—don't hit me!"
A child's cry.
A ten-year-old boy lay on the floor, bruised and bleeding. A middle-aged man stood over him, his foot pressing cruelly into the child's ribs.
"Ouch—please! Let me leave!"
Bang!
The child was kicked into the wall, collapsing in a heap.
"Call me Father," the man sneered. "What was your name again? Lucien? Right?"
He laughed wildly.
"From now on, you're my slave. A dog. No—dogs have names. You don't. I'll just call you mutt!"
Lucien's vision burned red.
He charged forward, fury exploding from his chest, and swung his fist with all his strength.
Zzz—
The man's body rippled.
Lucien's fist passed straight through him.
He staggered to a stop, staring at his empty hand.
"I can't touch him," he whispered.
And the truth sank in.
This was not an enemy of flesh.
This was his heart demon.