Lucien stood, legs trembling beneath the formal posture, his breath uneven but controlled, face blank as stone. His body wanted to collapse, but he did not allow it.

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said coldly. “I don’t plan to dodge. It’s my fault. I’ll answer all questions at once in the meeting. Repeating the same conversation twice would be completely unnecessary.”

  Selena’s blade nearly pierced him, her words low and cold.

  “How arrogant and insulting you’ve become. Seriously.”

  She paused, studying him carefully. Her eyes narrowed, her tone shifted.

  “What’s with you? Why are you sweating like this? Why is your defense so low? Some sort of penance? What are you doing?”

  Lucien offered no reaction.

  “If we’re done, I should take my leave,” he said, stepping back.

  But her knife moved before he could finish the motion.

  The arc of her blade sliced clean through a nearby tree, its trunk toppling with a soft crack. Lucien didn’t dodge the attack so much as fall as his heel collapsed under him, and his body dropped low. He had no grace left in him. The dodge came easily only because his body already wanted to lie still.

  Nausea crept back through his stomach. His vision pulsed at the edges.

  Then, without warning, black tendrils rose from the earth. Shadow ropes thick, pulsing and cold wrapped around both his legs, binding him in one place, he used whatever remain strength he could muster in his knee and then further strengthen it with aura to tear the tendril wrapped around his leg it apart and made a backward jump.

  Selena laughed quietly, her voice laced with amusement." Good. You finally decided to... play with your sister like before."

  Lucien’s chest rose with effort. His body trembled not from fear but from fatigue, from pain. The Astral Plates were still settling, his limbs were heavy, balance scattered, blood thudding through his skull like war drums.

  His eyes… they sharpened with focus.

  He reached into the rubble of what was a fountain beside him and pulled a metal rod. His grip tightened. The rod hissed, reacting to the flood of aura he forced into it, glowing with a deep blue pulse.

  “I should probably start carrying my sword around all the time.” he muttered.

  Selena stood under the fractured sunlight, elegance cloaked in amusement. She raised one hand in mock acknowledgment.

  “You really should, just how long that rod could handle your aura running through it, unless you think you could survive me with minimal effort, how insulting” she echoed, her voice almost gentle.

  Then she dropped her hand.

  From her shadow, darkness unfurled like ink poured into water, swallowing the earth beneath them. It spiraled and took form.

  Beasts emerged. Five in total.

  Three wolves, massive and drooling, their fangs dripping black acid, eyes glowing like molten iron. A feline specter, thin and sleek, its body rippling with obsidian and arcs of white lightning. And last a hulking hound, stitched from ice and rot, breathing frost that turned grass to glass.

  Lucien adjusted his stance, knees bent, breath slow.

  The lightning cat vanished.

  No footsteps. No sound. Just motion with an intent to bring death to its target without any mercy.

  Lucien pivoted, the rod snapping up just in time. The cat struck like thunder. Claws raked the metal, lightning surged into Lucien’s arms, trying to ride his bones like a circuit.

  He absorbed the shock with gritted teeth, aura flaring outward in a burst that scattered the current. The cat disengaged midair, flipped, and vanished into smoke.

  One of the wolf jumped from behind and another wolf dropped from above.

  Lucien ducked low, grabbed it by the throat mid-pounce, and hurled it into the incoming frost hound. The impact shattered a stone pillar behind them, the hound’s body cracking and reforming midair as if built from shattered mirrors.

  Lucien drove the rod into its throat of one coming from above, pivoted with the corpse still impaled, and slammed it like a club into the final wolf. The crunch of bone was sharp. The last wolf fell, twitching.

  Silence lasted only for a duration of a second as.

  They all reformed. Fluid. Unnatural. Their shadows knitted their broken bodies back together.

  Lucien’s aura flickered. Sweat poured down his face. His knees buckled slightly.

  He stood again. Aura clinging to his limbs like smoke trying to become fire.

  Above him, Selena sat casually on the nearby roof, legs folded beneath her, watching like a queen watching a play.

  “Is this what passes for resistance now? ” she called. “You used to be much more... fun. Normally you would have got rid of them in instant”

  The beasts lunged again as if learned from past mistakes, this time all of them attacked together. A coordinated storm of beasts.

  He exhaled and charged headfirst into the fray.

  Rod, moving like a silver blur, he weaved between the jaws and claws, striking with brutal precision. He spun beneath the hound’s freezing breath, brought the rod upward to cleave through the lightning cat’s chest, then stomped the jaw of the charging wolf into the dirt with a sickening crack.

  His aura exploded outward in an unstable burst, uncontrolled but forceful, sending two beasts flying. The blue light scorched their shadows.

  Selena:” he is getting his grip back, how about I test this” she says as dark red mana rises from her index finger.

  Suddenly His vision twisted, The garden vanished, Blood Everywhere.

  Thousands of corpses, twisted bodies, shredded civilians, monsters without names. The earth groaned under the weight of it. Skies aflame, trees screaming, the ground seething with something alive beneath it.

  Lucien blinked, His rod vanished, His limbs locked.

  He couldn’t move.

  Hands reached up. Eyeless faces, mockeries of human. They whispered with no mouths. They clawed at him, a bit into him. The pain was real for him, but his attack was useless to them.

  “A hallucination…” he growled, teeth grinding.

  Selena’s illusion. But layered. Constructed.

  He closed his eyes.

  He listened.

  Every illusion like any spell has rhythm. A structure beneath the madness. And in that rhythm, there was at least one major weak link that can be used to disrupt everything.

  Lucien matched it. Twisted it. Disrupted the current.

  His aura flared not violently, but with surgical control to break the chain.

  Like cutting a single thread in a tapestry.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The nightmare shattered. Shadows tore apart with a scream. The corpses fell into dust.

  Reality returned. The beasts surrounded him again, biting him with all the force they had.

  He killed them again. Faster. More effortlessly.

  The lightning cat didn’t even land before it was split in two.

  When the last wolf fell, Selena appeared from the very shadow, standing ahead of him. Still untouched. Still smiling.

  “How was it?” she asked, her voice echoing from every direction. “My new technique, I crafted it with the love I have for you.”

  He leapt to a tree. It felt stable.

  Then Selena again through shadows appeared at its base. Her hand touched the bark.

  The tree screamed. It blackened. Curled inward. Bark turned to ash. Leaves disintegrated mid-fall. The tree groaned as it was dying.

  Lucien launched off it just as its trunk twisted, cracked, and regrew.

  The tree was reformed into a monstrous silhouette, gnarled and hunched. Its branches turned to blades. A hollow opened in its trunk, and inside glowed eyes crimson, burning, furious at him for no reason.

  Lucien landed. Feet steady.

  The tree attacked.

  A branch as thick as a horse lashed at his ribs. He parried with the rod, sparks flying. Another swept low, he jumped, landing on it mid-motion, using it as a platform to launch himself onto the beast’s “shoulder.”

  He tore a root from the ground and used it as a rope, slinging the monster downward. As it twisted back up, he drove his knee into its hollow face.

  It howled and disintegrated into shadow.

  Lucien dropped to the ground.

  And Selena appeared.

  He swung.

  She ducked.

  Her leg swept his stance.

  He jumped. She caught his ankle midair and slammed him down.

  He rolled, bleeding from the mouth.

  She was on him again, hands blurred into fists. He blocked one, countered with a jab to her ribs, followed with an elbow to her jaw.

  She caught his wrist. Twisted.

  She smiled.

  Then she kneed him in the stomach. Hard.

  They clashed again. Brutal. Beautiful. Movements stripped of excess. Perfect economy of violence.

  However, Lucien, already affected by all the drain and strain he was going through, was pushed even further by this taxing encounter, causing something very rare to happen.

  Lucien began to slow.

  Selena didn’t.

  A strike to his ribs, cracked. A kick to the rod and it was sent flying somewhere.

  Then the massacre began.

  From every direction, thousands of shadow-hands erupted from the ground. They held him They beat him, dragged him down, bound his legs, twisted his arms.

  He hardened his aura, turning his body to something unbreakable and unpierceable. He roared. Fought to rise.

  But the shadows piled on.

  Selena walked slowly toward him.

  Her hand hovered near his chest.

  Not touching.

  But the grass blackened beneath her fingers.

  From the earth, a dozen shadow-stakes erupted long, precise. They pierced him. Most shattered against his aura.

  But a few found gaps. And slipped through.

  Not deep. Not fatal. But enough to paralyze.

  They didn’t bleed him.

  But they stole strength.

  Lucien’s body dropped.

  Shadow disappeared, but he still was wrapped in those shadow ropes

  The garden fell quiet.

  Selena stood over him.

  Still. Watching.

  She crouched beside him, facing him directly. Her expression was dead, still smiling.

  “You’re really out of touch today. It’s not even fun. I enjoy bullying you more when you actually show some good resistance.”

  Then her tone darkened. Her gaze sharpened.

  “Why are you behaving like this? You are not this weak”

  Her red eyes turned into pits endless and cold, no longer amused.

  “Was the adversary that dangerous? That powerful? Is that why you’re in this state?”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper, laced with threat.

  “Who were they?”

  Lucien replied, barely flinching.

  “Sister. As I said, I’ll answer all questions at once. In the meeting. For now, would you just let me go? I have things to take care of.”

  She leaned in slightly, blade resting again against his skin.

  “Again—why are you like this?”

  “Nothing special,” Lucien answered flatly. “Just under the weather. You don’t need to worry. I’m fine. Same as before.”

  The shadows responded to his lie.

  The vines shot upward, wrapping his entire body chest, arms, even his mouth. His body was now cocooned in dark, cold restraint.

  Selena leaned closer and dragged the knife slowly across his cheek, leaving a shallow red line.

  “You’re free to go. What are you waiting for, little bird? Just fly away. If you can't handle this much, little brother... then maybe someone else should take your place.”

  Lucien didn’t move.

  His body refused. It wasn’t just bound, it was drained. Every muscle trembled. His body screamed to collapse, to submit, to let go.

  His limbs were beyond heavy. He felt the blood pounding in his ears, and the ache crawling up his spine.

  He could not move. Not because he lacked the strength to break the bindings, but because his body no longer wanted to do anything.

  Even moving his finger felt like moving a mountain, he has become lethargic his body was going through nausea, migraine, soreness throughout the body. There was no energy to use, no desire to keep going on

  It longed to fall. To give in. To be still.

  But his mind did not share the sentiment.

  His will burned.

  He tightened every nerve, demanded action from a body that no longer obeyed, and bit down on the raw threads of his own aura, tearing it into motion through sheer force of consciousness.

  His body screamed louder. His skin flushed red. The pressure in his skull surged.

  Still he rose.

  His legs moved.

  The bindings snapped, one by one, under the push of that crushing internal force. His aura cracked the air. His steps were clumsy, shaking, but he walked past her, away.

  His face, as always, betrayed nothing.

  But his skin was drenched in sweat.

  His eyes flickered from clarity to dizziness

  He walked.

  Of course, he walked.

  Lucien tattered, half-bleeding, aura flickering like a dying lantern still peeled himself from the dirt and walked as if dignity could make broken legs forget they were broken.

  Selena watched him with arms folded, expression unreadable.

  Her eyes traced the unevenness in his steps, the quiet fury behind his blank face. No flinching. No whimper. No appeal for pity.

  She exhaled, quietly. The garden was silent except for the dying rustle of shadows.

  A faint smile tugged at her lips, though it held no warmth.

  Selena’s voice carried across the quiet garden.

  “Hey, Lucien. Hear me out.”

  Lucien stopped. His legs stiffened beneath him, barely holding. He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder.

  She was standing by the ruined fountain, arms outstretched not in threat, but presentation. From her shadow, as if from some unseen drawer, she pulled out a table. Then two chairs. Cutlery. Napkins. Even a porcelain tea set, arranged with eerie grace.

  He blinked. Said nothing.

  “Come here,” she called. “Sit with me for a while. A tea break. You were on your way to lunch anyway, weren’t you?”

  Lucien’s voice was dry, hoarse.

  “No need. I’ll get something from the kitchen.”

  Selena rolled her eyes theatrically.

  “Now, don’t be so grumpy. I brought something special.”

  From her bag or perhaps the void itself she retrieved three small boxes, lacquered and sealed with a golden ribbon.

  “I got these from a very reputable bakery. They said it’s their signature dish. I tried it. Brought enough for everyone.”

  Lucien remained silent, watching her.

  “It’s mulberry pie,” she added. “Your favorite. You can have mine, too, if you’re still feeling stubborn.”

  There was a pause. Then, finally, he stepped forward.

  “Well… I’m hungry. And I could use the sugar.”

  His gait was slow, composed, but every step hinted at the weight he was forcing himself to bear.

  Selena offered him her coldest smile the kind that suggested civility more than affection.

  Then she turned her head toward the far corner of the nearby building.

  “I think it’s about time you stopped hiding,” she said aloud, voice calm, casual. “Why don’t you join us?”

  A beat passed.

  Then, from behind a pillar, Pelta emerged. Her footsteps were hesitant, posture measured. She gave a small bow.

  “I apologize. I didn’t intend to intrude.”

  Selena raised a hand, waving off the formality.

  “Hush. Leave the explanations for the table. Come on. You’re Pelta, aren’t you? Our newest sibling. Come sit.”

  Pelta hesitated, then approached.

  Selena pushed the third box toward her.

  Pelta bowed down again:” greetings first sister, I am Pelta-06. You may call me Pelta. “

  “So,” she said, voice soft as mist, “our new sister has quite the talent for vanishing into corners.”

  Pelta :”Again, I apologize for my endeavor. I really didn't mean “

  Selena:” oh, don't worry at all, it doesn't bother me at all, I was genuinely praising you it took me a while to actually sense and find you. But is there any specific reason you preferred watching a thing from far or collecting information ”

  Pelta, seated across from her, folded her hands neatly on the table.

  “I just find data very informative, helpful and useful to me, based on it, I can plan my future course of action to avoid unnecessary problems, and if played well I might even have a winning edge” she replied.

  Selena tilted her head, the faintest curl at the corner of her lips.

  “A smart answer. Predictable. But smart.”

  “But remember Data collection is important to you, I’m sure. But remember knowledge alone won’t help you beat any of us. At best, it gives you an edge. A narrow one against us.”

  Lucien reached the table last. He didn’t speak. Didn’t offer, thanks. He simply sat, picked up the fork, and began eating.

  No decorum. No pretense. Just silence and the sharp sweetness of mulberry pie on his tongue.