Lucille stepped onto the training ground, a mischievous smile on her lips. She crossed her arms and looked at Richard with amusement.
— "Oh? You're that eager to see my abilities, Richard?"
Richard raised an eyebrow, remaining on guard.
— "I prefer to know who I'm dealing with. So?"
Lucille smirked slightly at Richard's persistence. She crossed her arms and locked eyes with him, clearly amused by his seriousness.
— "You're always this suspicious, Richard?" she asked lightly.
Richard didn't let himself be unsettled. He held her gaze with the same intensity.
— "I prefer to be cautious. So, what's your element?"
Tristan sighed, rolling his eyes.
— "Honestly, Richard, you could relax a little. It's not like Lucille is an enemy."
— "I never said she was. But I want to know who I'm dealing with."
Lucille let out a soft laugh before stepping forward.
— "Very well."
She chuckled lightly and extended her hand in front of her.
— "I'll show you."
Closing her eyes for a moment, she focused. A gentle breeze stirred around her, lifting her hair slightly.
Richard kept his eyes on Lucille, waiting to see what she was preparing.
— "I'm curious to see this," Richard murmured.
Lucille slowly raised her hand, and suddenly, bright blue flames burst to life around her, dancing in the air like living spirits. The energy they radiated was strange—both mesmerizing and unsettling.
Richard, Elisabeth, and Tristan watched in stunned silence. Even Tristan, who had been defending Lucille a moment ago, seemed slightly uneasy.
— "Blue flames..." Elisabeth murmured, impressed. "That's rare."
Richard frowned, studying the fire carefully.
— "I've never seen flames like this before."
Lucille slowly closed her hand, and the flames vanished instantly.
— "That's because this isn't ordinary fire," she declared with a mysterious smile. "It's called Spectral Fire."
— "Spectral Fire?" Tristan repeated.
Lucille nodded.
— "It doesn't just burn flesh—it burns the soul. It's nearly inextinguishable, unless I will it to disappear."
Silence fell over them.
Richard's instincts screamed at him to stay on guard. Magic this rare and powerful couldn't belong to an ordinary person.
— "Where did you learn to wield such fire?" he asked, his wariness still evident.
Lucille glanced away slightly before smiling.
— "Let's just say... it's a family inheritance."
Élisabeth stood with her arms crossed, watching Lucille intently.
— "You remain quite secretive about your origins."
Lucille shrugged.
— "Everyone has their secrets, don't they?"
Richard and Élisabeth exchanged a glance.
This girl was hiding something—there was no doubt about it.
A deafening explosion tore through the air, followed by a shockwave that shook the ground beneath their feet. A moment later, the capital's bell tower began ringing frantically, signaling imminent danger.
Richard's eyes widened, his breath caught in disbelief.
— "Impossible… Arvendell is under attack?" he murmured, as if refusing to accept it.
Beside him, Élisabeth raised a hand to her mouth, her gaze locked onto the thick column of smoke rising in the distance. Tristan took a step back, visibly shaken.
But it was Lucille's voice that brought them back to reality.
— "Oh, of course it's possible… In fact, it's the plain and simple truth."
Her voice was colder, sharper, and a strange smile stretched across her lips. A cruel smile.
Richard immediately turned to her, but he no longer recognized the girl he had been questioning just moments ago. The warmth in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a chilling gleam. Her expression was no longer that of a mere comrade but of someone entirely different.
An enemy.
Élisabeth instinctively stepped back, her body seized by an uncontrollable shiver.
— "Lucille… What's gotten into you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
But Richard didn't need any more clues. His instincts screamed the truth at him. He clenched his fists, his gaze burning with newfound intensity.
— "Who are you… really?" he demanded.
Lucille's smile widened slightly.
— "Finally, you're asking the right question, Richard."
The air around them grew heavy with an electric tension.
The training session was over.
The real battle was about to begin.
Lucille smirked cruelly before lifting her head toward Richard.
— "I am Velkra, the Fire Giver. An Apostle of the Shadow."
Her eyes gleamed with malevolence as a flame danced in the palm of her hand.
— "And I am here for you, Richard. My order is clear: kill you."
Richard clenched his fists, a cold shiver running down his spine. His muscles tensed as anger surged within him.
— "So… you're the ones attacking Arvendell?" he roared, his eyes blazing with fury.
Velkra burst into laughter, a sound that rang out like a taunt.
— "Oh, you're just figuring that out now? How very perceptive!" she mocked.
Tristan, frozen in shock, stared at the girl he thought he knew.
— "Lucille… Why are you doing this?" he stammered, his voice filled with disbelief.
Velkra slowly turned her head toward him, her eyes burning with irritation.
— "Stop calling me Lucille!" she growled. "I already told you my name, you idiot! Are your ears blocked?"
With a sharp flick of her hand, a burst of flames erupted from the ground, forcing Tristan to stumble backward.
Suddenly, Velkra's body was engulfed in blue fire, crackling with an unnatural intensity. Yet the heat emitted no burns, and the aura surrounding her felt unreal, as if it belonged to another world.
When the flames vanished, her appearance had completely changed.
Gone was her former self. Now, a figure stood before them.
Her skin was a deep, ghostly white. Her hair was as dark as the abyss.
Her eyes shone an eerie, abyssal blue, like lost stars in an infinite void. She wore a dark, imposing outfit.
A mischievous smile played on her lips as she crossed her arms.
— "This is my true form… I hope you still like me!" Velkra teased before bursting into laughter, a crystalline sound laced with enigmatic amusement.
Her piercing gaze swept over Richard and his companions, awaiting their reaction.
Richard instantly drew his weapon, his eyes locked onto Velkra's.
— "If you think I'm just going to stand here and let this happen, you're dead wrong."
Velkra grinned, her expression brimming with challenge.
— "I was hoping you'd say that."
A fiery aura suddenly flared around her, and the temperature in the courtyard spiked dramatically.
The battle was inevitable.
— "Spectral Fire Magic: Spectral Lance!" Velkra declared with commanding authority.
Instantly, ethereal energy gathered between her hands, swirling in a spectral glow. In mere moments, a lance materialized—a shaft as dark as night and a tip ablaze with supernatural blue fire. The flames did not flicker like ordinary fire; they danced as if guided by a will of their own, casting icy reflections onto the surrounding walls.
Élisabeth swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the formidable weapon. She glanced at Richard, fear evident in her eyes.
— "Richard… I don't think we can beat her," she whispered, her breath shallow.
Her voice betrayed a rising dread. Velkra was no ordinary enemy. The sheer power emanating from her crushed the air itself, as if even the atmosphere bowed to her authority.
Richard tightened his grip, his muscles rigid with tension. He couldn't afford to falter. Keeping his eyes locked onto Velkra, he replied with unwavering determination:
— "I know… but look at her. Do you really think she'll let us go? She was clear—she's here for me."
He raised his sword slightly, ready for the inevitable fight. Velkra, meanwhile, observed them with an amused smile, like a predator toying with its prey before the final strike.
Velkra's smile turned wicked, her gaze sweeping over her opponents.
— "You're four against one… So I'll just eliminate one to even the odds," she declared in a chilling tone.
Time seemed to freeze for an instant. Then, in a flash of spectral energy, she vanished.
— "Get down, everyone!" Richard shouted desperately.
But it was already too late. A sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by a sickening crack.
Velkra had reappeared, her lance raised. In a motion of inhuman fluidity, she struck. In an instant, she held Tristan's head in her hand, his expression frozen in a mixture of disbelief and terror.
A suffocating silence fell over the battlefield.
Then, Velkra laughed.
— "One down," she murmured with twisted satisfaction.
Her laughter echoed like a funeral bell.
— "Tristaaaan! NOOOOO!"
Larry's scream tore through the air, filled with pain and rage. His legs gave out beneath him, his body trembling from a mix of horror and despair.
Richard, on the other hand, was frozen in place. His breath hitched, his heart pounding violently. He had just watched Tristan die before his eyes—without even having the chance to react. Velkra's shadow loomed over them, even more oppressive now, her aura of death hanging around them like a grim specter.
Élisabeth raised a trembling hand to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears.
— "Tristan… is dead…" she whispered, her voice shattered by emotion.
Velkra, still unfazed, twirled her lance in a theatrical motion.
— "Who's next?" she asked, her voice disturbingly light.
The atmosphere grew even heavier. The battle had only just begun, yet the shadow of despair had already fallen upon them.