Once every enemy’s life was extinguished, the captives in the mining sector, unsure of who Lucien was and terrified by what he had done, hid with everything they had. They made sure not to make a sound that might attract his attention.

  Some hid behind rocks, others inside the mines. Those inside the barracks locked the doors and stayed put, too unsure to even peek outside.

  Whatever had come, it was not something they were willing to face. They chose to stay hidden.

  A few even crawled behind Lucien, trying to sneak to the other side, thinking the blindfold meant he couldn’t see them.

  Lucien, however, never bothered to console or explain anything. He wasn’t here for them. Things this frightened were of little concern to him.

  He had already sensed all of them, even those doing their best to hide. Their positions, their energy, their movements. Lucien could sense the life energy of every being around him.

  But obviously, he couldn’t differentiate between friend or foe unless he had seen their energy before. Until now, he had relied on his own analysis observing their behavior, positioning, hostility, and whether they attacked him or not to choose his targets.

  So far, he hadn’t caused any unnecessary deaths.

  It was another flaw of his current ability. A reminder that his mastery was not yet complete. Though if he had sensed someone’s energy signature before, he could easily recognize them the next time they came into range, like with Grant.

  Lucien kept walking. Moving toward him, what still seemed like a final challenge worth his time.

  Bang.

  Multiple trajectory blasts fired at him. Sharp, loud, sudden.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Lucien dodged them effortlessly, but when he tried to find the attacker, it was clear whoever it was stood outside his current range.

  Again, multiple shots came. Faster than arrows. More destructive than standard cannonballs, though smaller. But they carried just as much, if not more, impact.

  This was something new.

  Lucien danced with both swords, cutting through what came toward him. But this time, it was the wrong move.

  The moment he sliced through one of the shots, it exploded.

  He dashed to avoid the blast, but the shells continued. They were targeted specifically at him. Dodging was difficult due to the speed of the artillery and the wide coverage. Whenever he landed or made contact with the shots, they exploded violently.

  For a few seconds, he struggled. Then he stopped to analyze.

  He tried deflecting a few. He succeeded, but at a cost.

  One of his aura-enhanced swords started to burn. It cracked. The metal broke. He discarded it.

  That wasn’t normal.

  In his current state, Lucien could sense these attacks as highly compressed mana sealed within a shell. A mix of mana and engineering. Normally, average weapons and artillery couldn’t break through aura. Especially not his. To break it, a weapon must either be aura-enhanced itself or powered with enough destructive force to pierce advanced aura shielding.

  A non aura enhance weapon having power to break my aura enhancement now this is interesting

  Lucien’s aura was extremely potent. Most Normal weapons or objects couldn't handle it. That’s why he only used very minimal amounts when reinforcing random objects. He only increased the aura slightly beyond normal thresholds, enough so it can possibly deal with the attack and not get destroyed by his own aura.

  Then he noticed the rhythm.

  He matched it. Let his remaining blade follow the pulse. Instead of clashing head-on, he turned the edge to redirect the pressure. He started bouncing the shells off.

  It became easier.

  He did this again and again.

  Soon, it was a piece of cake.

  He angled the sword just right and launched the shots back in the direction they had come from.

  The barrage stopped.

  Lucien didn’t waste the moment.

  He picked up another blade from the ground, now armed with two once again.

  And then, something hurled a massive rock toward Lucien.

  He sliced it clean through in a single motion, the boulder splitting into chunks midair. He dashed forward, clearing the path just as a cloud of smoke and dust rushed in.

  From the haze, an iron fist the size of a boulder lunged at his face.

  Lucien caught it with his blade.

  Steel ground against steel. The force behind the strike was tremendous. His arm tensed as he held it back.

  Then, from within the first, a blast discharged point-blank.

  Lucien kicked back, breaking away from the impact, only to find another strike coming from the side. A stomp aimed to crush him.

  He shifted, sliding away, and landed cleanly on his feet, balance perfect.

  Something wasn’t right.

  There are two life signatures inside that thing. Same vessel. Same core. And the mana output… it’s absurd.

  The pressure, the energy, the movement—everything about it was off.

  It wasn’t just a summoned beast.

  Some kind of metallic construct. A golem. But the structure doesn’t match anything standard. There’s something else in there.

  Driven by curiosity, Lucien pulled the blindfold from his face and deactivated his ability.

  The smoke cleared.

  What stood in front of him was massive. At least the size of a two-story house. A giant, metallic figure with silver-plated armor.

  Two large cannon barrels mounted on its back. Its fists were shaped like iron gauntlets, likely the same artillery launchers that had targeted him earlier.

  Its head was circular with a glowing red eye. Runes pulsed along its limbs, etched directly into the plating.

  Lucien took in every detail.

  And he was impressed.

  The golem stared right back.

  Then it spoke in a high-pitched, metallic voice.

  "What happened, little rat? Not going to fight anymore? You dodged my artillery like you’d already seen it coming. Honestly, that was impressive. Annoying, but impressive."

  It pointed toward the cloth still clutched in Lucien’s hand.

  "So what is it? Some kind of magical artifact? I am curious about that blindfold. Something that enhances your perception? Boosts your movement? Or tell you where the attack is coming from, Doesn’t look like it’s working anymore."

  A sudden ray shot from its finger.

  Lucien dodged.

  But the ray didn’t stop. It tracked him, sharp and fast. He tried deflecting it with his blade. Same result. The blast pierced through his aura defense and melted the metal edge on contact.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  He moved again, but this time, another thin, barely visible ray sliced from behind—cleanly cutting the blindfold still hanging from his wrist.

  The cloth dropped.

  And instantly caught fire. The fibers burned as it hit the dirt.

  The golem didn’t let the moment pass.

  "I was right. That thing helped you dodge. Like you could see it all before it happened."

  It stepped forward, fists heating up.

  "But now? That’s gone. So tell me, what exactly are you going to do without it?"

  The golem launched multiple mana blasts from its giant back-mounted launcher, firing again and again without pause.

  But its first mistake was using mana against Lucien.

  Lucien, the master of rhythm, didn’t even need to dodge.

  He stepped once, then again, smooth and clean. The blasts passed through where he’d just been and vanished not with explosions, but like steam evaporating into air.

  Gone. Nothing remained.

  Lucien’s presence nullified their very formation. The mana blast collapsed before making contact.

  The golem, now aware, switched tactics and fired its physical artillery. High-impact, mana-wrapped shells with blast runes. Real weapons.

  Too bad, Lucien had already seen everything he needed.

  He drove his blade into the ground, cut a deep, perfect square, and with one hand, pulled the slab of earth up in front of him. He reinforced it with his aura instantly. The moment the next shells hit, they bounced off, redirected harmlessly into the dirt.

  The golem kept firing, unloading its full payload.

  Thinking, Lucien was pinned.

  But Lucien had already moved.

  The golem felt a sudden force on its back.

  Lucien tore both rear-mounted cannons out from behind, breaking through plating and wiring in one motion.

  The golem staggered forward.

  "Get off me, you pest!" it roared, trying to shake him loose.

  Lucien didn’t let go.

  He forced the golem down, its legs scraping the ground. It tried to fly, lifting slightly, dragging Lucien midair. Before it could stabilize, Lucien grabbed its head and began twisting.

  The golem fired an emergency blast from its right arm, point-blank.

  Lucien caught the arm, sliced it off at the joint, then pulled the entire body downward, slamming it into the ground with a crack that echoed across the valley.

  The golem, now down two weapons, scrambled up and charged in a panic.

  It swung.

  Lucien dodged once, slipped past the next strike, then caught its leg mid-movement.

  With a brutal pivot, he flipped the golem off its own axis, slammed it onto the ground again, and drove a knee into its back as it tried to rise.

  It roared and tried to stomp him with its remaining leg.

  Lucien caught the foot, braced, and crushed the leg with a sharp twist.

  The other arm came down like a hammer.

  Lucien grabbed it, twisted, broke the joint clean, then climbed on top of the golem’s frame.

  He drove his fist into the chest, denting the torso, then punched again, breaking through its outer plating.

  Then he ripped the final arm free and tossed it aside like scrap.

  The golem’s internal lights began to flicker. Core heat rising. Warning signals spiked.

  But then—

  From its center, a panel slid open.

  A hidden core weapon charged.

  A focused beam of flame, massive and blinding, launched directly toward Lucien.

  Lucien’s body blurred sideways, avoiding the blast by inches.

  He returned with a low slash, cutting clean through the golem’s last standing leg.

  The entire frame collapsed forward, unable to support itself anymore.

  Lucien stepped in, grabbed the exposed core casing with both hands, and tore it out.

  The golem’s systems surged once more, lights trying to flare, but the moment the core left its housing, everything shut down.

  Silence.

  Lucien dropped the core onto the ground beside the machine’s shattered head.

  He stood there, breathing calm, not a scratch left on him that mattered.

  The fight was over.

  Lucien stepped forward and looked down at the frame.

  “Come out on your own or perish,” he said.

  No response.

  No movement.

  Lucien didn’t wait. He lifted his sword and began stabbing into the back of the wrecked golem. Steel tore through metal. Sparks burst.

  “I’ll come out! Please! Just give me a moment!”

  Lucien grabbed the frame, flipped the entire wreck over, and tore open its abdomen in one smooth pull.

  Inside was a boy.

  Dark green hair. Prisoner’s clothing. Frail body. Dark circles under his eyes. Breathing shallow. Clearly exhausted.

  Lucien reached in, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him out like dead weight.

  “Please. Mercy. It was Grant. He made me fight. I didn’t have a choice. I’m just a captive. I have nothing to do with them—please, believe me!”

  The boy’s voice was hoarse, desperate. Sweat ran down his face. He didn’t resist.

  Lucien threw him to the dirt.

  “If you try to run, I’ll kill you.”

  The boy didn’t move. He stayed where he landed, frozen.

  Lucien stepped forward.

  “What was that thing you were using? Answer truthfully if you value your head.”

  The boy stammered. “I... I can’t tell.”

  “Why.”

  “I’m bound by a high-rank slave contract. If I disobey what’s written in it, my head will explode. I’m telling the truth. I can show you the mark.”

  “Show it.”

  The boy rolled up his sleeve.

  A black-red centipede-shaped symbol was etched along his forearm. The segments wrapped around the muscle and ran all the way to his hand.

  Lucien studied it.

  “Can you say your name?”

  “I can’t.”

  Lucien kept looking at him with no expression.

  The boy gave a tired laugh. “Funny, right? Even slaves have more freedom than that. I can’t say my name. I can’t even tell you the full conditions. I’d die instantly.”

  Lucien narrowed his eyes.

  “Can you leave the premises?”

  “Not anymore,” the boy said. “You killed everyone. So I guess I’m stuck.”

  Lucien knelt and seized the boy’s marked arm. The boy resisted with everything he had—pulling, shouting, even trying to bite—but against Lucien’s grip it was useless.

  Then Lucien activated his ability. At its current output, only one percent, it was a mere fraction of its true power—but he had grown more accustomed to it. All their sparring had paid off, at least somewhat.

  His body didn’t buckle this time.

  His eyes opened fully, but his vision distorted slightly. Control was still shaky, but manageable.

  He focused on the boy’s life signature, tracing the lines of mana.

  There it was.

  The contract. Its structure. Clear now. Had he had more mastery and control he could have dig deeper, but that's not for now.

  A parasitic type.

  It is draining his life force and mana to power itself. And keep binding him under the given condition. But because of its nature, it should be easier to dismantle it.

  Lucien now that he’d seen the contract’s full structure

  He pulled his focus in tighter.

  Normally, his body consumed too much mana just keeping up with his own abilities. But He had eight internal plates storing mana now. That gave him enough to act, with this reserve, he could try to dismantle the contract and if not that rewrite it at the very least.

  He concentrated.

  Locked in.

  And began.

  Blue light radiated around him.

  The boy didn’t understand what was happening. He flinched but didn’t resist. The light held for one minute. Then two. Then five.

  When it faded, the centipede mark was gone.

  In its place was a simple blue crown, etched cleanly on the inside of his wrist.

  Lucien:“It’s done. Now you can tell me what I want to know.”

  The boy sat up slowly, confused.

  “What... what did you do?”

  He looked down at his arm.

  He could feel it. A pressure was gone. The invisible weight that had sat on his chest for years had lifted. His mana no longer leaked. His muscles no longer trembled.

  “You erased it? But how—”

  “I didn’t erase it,” Lucien said. “I rewrote it completely with a new one. Erasing a high-rank contract without divine support is harder than I expected.”

  “What’s in the new one?” the boy asked.

  “One rule. Obey my orders.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You get three chances. After the third strike, I’ll seal your mana. That’s only if I choose to act. If fifteen days pass without punishment, the strikes reset.”

  The boy sat there, stunned.

  Then he gave a faint smile.

  “That’s... better than anything I’ve had in years. You practically freed me. I don’t even know how to thank you.”

  Lucien:“You talk like I did a good deed. The only reason I did it because I just wanted answers, you are of no other use for me. So start talking.”

  The boy nodded.

  “I’m Eisen. I was once a noble of House Beschwaffen. My family has an inherited trait—weapon conjuring. Normally, each member can only conjure weapons they’ve seen, or four types in total. I was different. I was born weak. Couldn’t fight like the rest.”

  He swallowed.

  “So I designed my own weapons. What you fought wasn’t special. The Mark 7 golem is just another machine. The difference is that it runs off my mana. I sit inside, supply it directly, and conjure all its ammunition myself. Every shell, beam, and burst—it all came from me.”

  Lucien looked at him evenly.

  “You built something that powerful, and still ended up a slave.”

  Eisen sighed.

  “There’s not much you can do when the whole society is against you.”

  Grant had run the moment the golem activated.

  Didn’t even look back.

  He'd grabbed a horse, forced it through the broken rear gate, and vanished into the treeline without a word to anyone.

  He thought he could make it.

  He didn’t.

  Just as he crossed the outer boundary of the camp, his body pitched forward. He fell from the horse mid-gallop. The animal kept going.

  Grant didn’t move.

  His lips cracked.

  His eyes dried.

  In seconds, his skin withered. The blood inside him turned to dust. His muscles shriveled, and then he stopped breathing, completely desiccated. A lifeless husk in military clothes.

  Nearby, two other soldiers had collapsed in the same way. Twisted. Dry. Their mouths open in frozen screams. Their skin thin and brittle like old leather.

  Arika stopped walking. She looked once.

  Then looked away.

  She bent down. Gagged. Swallowed it. Gagged again.

  She turned her back, breathed hard, then vomited.

  Twice.

  Max stood a few steps behind her, arms crossed.

  "Are you alright?" he asked. "Your face looks like you are terminally ill."

  She didn’t answer at first. Just wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

  Max glanced at the corpse again. Then smiled faintly.

  "I get it. My dehydration technique... it's not the cleanest way to go. Definitely not painless, either. I don’t use it often. When I was a kid, it used to give me nightmares. But look at his face, look at it closely. That expression is something else. That is so funny, he thought he would be getting out of here alive, but instead got killed by a force he couldn't even understand."

  Arika turned back to the body. She forced herself to look.

  She nodded, once.

  "I’m fine. I really am."

  Max stretched his arms behind his head. "Anyway, we should get moving. No need to rush. From the sound of things, Lucien probably finished already. Still, I’ll warn you. The situation back there will be just as bad, if not worse."

  Arika didn’t flinch this time.

  "I said I’m fine," she repeated. "I have to do my part."

  They started walking.

  The path led deeper into the camp ruins. Burned tents. Torn bodies. Silence.

  Arika's boots sank lightly into the muddy earth. It wasn’t water. It was blood.

  The bodies came next.

  Guards with heads caved in. Mages bisected through the chest. Soldiers torn apart like paper dolls. Some barely had time to draw weapons. Others were still frozen mid-cast, hands stiff, eyes open.

  Arika stared.

  And kept staring.

  What horrifying power the Sinclair's possess.

  One brother could kill a people from across a forest and leave only a dried husk behind.

  The other?

  He had carved his way through dozens, maybe hundreds, without slowing down. Without hesitation. Like he was picking flowers from a garden.

  And this was just one day.

  One mission.

  What would they be like in a real war?

  Arika felt it—not just fear.

  But awe.

  And something colder.

  If I ever step out of line, will this be what waits for me, too? No it is me who is being weak in order to get my revenge I have to become like them this is the type of power I need to get my revenge on those monsters

  She just kept walking.

  New Update Schedule: Wednesdays and Saturdays

  no skipped days. I’m committing to two chapters a week, and I won’t be lowering that or changing the schedule.