Location: Valeheart Spire, private combat chamberTime: Midnight
The silence was deceptive.
Behind the curved glass walls of the combat chamber, the skyline of Arclight glowed like a sleeping dragon. Everything looked calm.
But inside?
A storm was building.
Lucien stood alone in the center of the room, arms folded behind his back, dressed in a black combat coat with silver lining, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He wasn't armed.
He didn't need to be.
The air shimmered once. Then—she appeared.
No announcement. No portal. No sound.
Just the sudden presence of something cold, fast, and deadly.
Selene Caelis stepped from the shadows with the quiet grace of a blade drawn across silk. Her eyes locked onto his the moment she arrived—no hesitation, no bow.
She wasn't here to talk.
She was here to judge.
And then destroy.
"Lucien Valeheart." Her voice was low and steady. "By order of the Huntresses, your reign ends tonight."
Lucien didn't move.
He just smiled.
"Selene. I was hoping they'd send you."
She moved, lightning-quick. A blur of silver and shadow. Her dagger flashed—aimed straight for his throat.
He caught it mid-air with his fingers.
Steel shrieked against skin.
Her eyes widened a fraction.
His voice dropped, soft and amused. "No greeting? No dinner first?"
She kicked, spun, and brought her second blade in a wide arc toward his ribs.
This one he dodged, letting it pass so close it nicked his coat.
"You like playing rough," he said, stepping back. "I admire that. But you've made a mistake."
Selene didn't answer. Her face was blank, but her instincts were already firing—this wasn't just a powerful man.
This was something else.
Something... ancient.
She struck again, launching a flurry of high-speed attacks. Dagger swipes. Elbow strikes. A knee aimed at his gut. Each one perfect. Each one—countered. Not blocked. Not parried.
Anticipated.
"You're not the first woman who tried to kill me," Lucien said, voice still casual. "But most of them scream my name now. Usually from under my desk."
Selene's strike faltered for the first time.
Just a flicker.
Lucien saw it.
And pressed.
"I wonder... how many triggers do you have, Selene? Are you prideful? Ticklish? Or is it deeper—do you fight because you're scared of what would happen if you lost?"
She snarled and finally stepped back, blades raised defensively now. "You won't manipulate me."
Lucien's eyes flared with soft crimson.
"But I already am."
The room pulsed once—barely noticeable. But Selene staggered.
Just a breath.
Her grip tightened. Her heart raced. Her mind buzzed with... heat?
What was—?
"I don't need chains," Lucien said. "I don't even need to touch you. All I need is time. And you, Huntress, have just locked yourself in here with me."
She cursed under her breath. "You bastard…"
He smiled wider.
"I prefer King."