Lucien stood frozen, staring at Char as his words echoed in his skull.
Coward.
That was what Char had called him, wasn't it? Not outright, but it had been in the words, in the way he had spoken—like he knew Lucien, like he had already decided what kind of man he was.
Lucien clenched his jaw, his fists trembling at his sides.
Char had no idea what he had been through.
No idea what it had been like to live his entire life in his father's shadow, to grow up with the weight of a dying peoplepressing against his shoulders. He had no idea what it was like to watch as the world shrank around him, as the old ways faded, as his people struggled, always struggling, scraping by in a world that had never wanted them in the first place.
Lucien had fought every day to prove himself.
He had trained harder than any of them. He had studied every bit of history, memorized every lesson Rhun had ever taught. He had done everything right, and still—still, it had never been enough.
His father had always looked at him with something restrained in his gaze. Pride? Hesitation? Fear? Lucien never knew.
And now…
Now his father was dead.
Now, the people finally looked to him as their leader.
And Char wanted to take that away from him, too.
Lucien's breath came sharp through his nose.
For so long, he had been afraid to step into the role he had been born to fill. He had doubted himself, had hesitated—and what had it gotten him? Nothing.
But Flint…
Flint had given him direction.
Flint had shown him what it meant to be a leader, to be a true Chief—not just some relic of a past that no longer existed, but the future.
And Char—
Char, with his arrogance, his threats—
Char was standing in the way of everything Lucien had been working toward.
The tension in his chest twisted into something hot.
He wouldn't hesitate anymore.
He wouldn't doubt.
He would show Char exactly who he was.
Lucien stepped forward.
The murmuring of the Valkari silenced at once.
His gaze locked onto Char's, steady and unyielding.
And then—
He reached for his blade.
The hush of steel rang in the open air as he unsheathed it, the weight familiar in his grip.
"This is my decision," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "You wanted to see the Chief of the Valkari?"
His fingers tightened around the hilt.
"Then I will show you."
*
Char exhaled sharply, his heart sinking as Lucien drew his blade.
So that was it.
For a moment, he had hoped—really hoped—that Lucien would see reason. That he would realize Flint was manipulating him. That he would step down and let this all end without blood.
But no.
Lucien had made his choice.
And now Char had to make his.
He gritted his teeth, reaching to his belt and drawing both his daggers in a smooth motion. The cool weight of them in his palms steadied him. This wasn't the first fight of his life. And if he wanted to protect Mira, Merrick, Selka—if he wanted to stop Flint before he twisted Lucien any further—then he had to win.
The space between them crackled with tension. Around them, the Valkari whispered in hushed voices, confused and uncertain. They had expected to celebrate their new Chief tonight. Not witness a duel.
Lucien shifted his weight, blade angled low. Char recognized the stance. Defensive, but with a built-in counteroffensive. It was a patient way to fight, meant for endurance—waiting for an opening rather than forcing one.
Char, on the other hand, couldn't afford to wait.
He lunged.
His left dagger slashed for Lucien's ribs while his right flicked upward toward his shoulder. A feint. If Lucien blocked the lower strike, he'd leave himself open up top.
But Lucien was no amateur.
The Valkar twisted his body with sharp precision, pivoting on his back foot. His blade came up in a smooth arc, deflecting the lower dagger while his free hand caught Char's wrist before the upper one could land.
In a single motion, he pulled, using Char's own momentum against him.
Char stumbled forward, off balance.
Lucien struck.
His knee drove into Char's gut, knocking the wind from his lungs. Char barely had time to react before Lucien's blade came sweeping down. He threw himself backward, just narrowly avoiding a fatal slash, though the steel grazed his shirt, slicing through fabric and nicking the skin beneath.
Char hit the ground in a roll, forcing himself up onto his feet in an instant.
Lucien didn't give him a moment to breathe. He was already closing the distance, his sword flashing in the torchlight. Char deflected the first strike with a crossed block of his daggers, sparks flying from the impact. Lucien pivoted and swung again—this time a downward slash.
Char twisted to the side, letting the blade whistle past his ear.
His counterattack was immediate. He hooked one foot behind Lucien's ankle and yanked, knocking him slightly off balance before slamming his elbow into his ribs.
Lucien grunted but recovered quickly, stepping back to put space between them.
Both men circled each other now, eyes locked, their breath coming fast.
Char tightened his grip on his daggers.
Lucien wiped a streak of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You should've left," Lucien said, his voice edged with something almost bitter.
Char's jaw clenched. "You should've listened."
Lucien lunged again, faster than before.
Their weapons clashed, and the duel continued.
The fight was a blur of steel and movement, both fighters pushing themselves past their limits. Char's daggers struck like twin vipers, swift and relentless, while Lucien's blade answered with powerful, precise swings. Sparks flared in the dark like falling stars as their weapons clashed, the ringing steel cutting through the heavy night air.
Char was fast. That much was undeniable. His strikes came from unpredictable angles, each attack a feint or a setup for something else. But Lucien had the raw strength of a seasoned warrior, and his footing was impeccable. Every time Char thought he had him, Lucien would shift at the last second, turning aside a lethal strike with nothing more than a minor graze.
It was a fight of patience and attrition.
Lucien pressed forward, sending a heavy slash toward Char's midsection. Char barely dodged in time, twisting away as the blade whistled past his ribs. But he was already moving, spinning around Lucien's side, bringing one dagger up in a deadly arc toward his unguarded back.
Lucien twisted, an almost inhuman reaction speed saving him from what could have been a fatal blow. But this time, he wasn't fast enough.
Char's second dagger followed through.
A clean strike—right against Lucien's sword.
The force of the impact sent a sharp crack ringing through the air.
Lucien stumbled back.
Char stared.
A jagged line ran through Lucien's weapon. The steel trembled for a moment, as if trying to resist the inevitable.
Then—
Snap.
The blade split in two, the top half clattering uselessly to the ground.
Lucien's breathing was heavy. He glanced down at the broken weapon, gripping the hilt so tightly his knuckles turned white. The crowd had fallen into hushed silence, the weight of the fight finally settling over them.
But Lucien didn't lower his head.
He didn't surrender.
Instead, a slow smirk curled at the edges of his mouth.
"…Not bad," he admitted.
Then he dropped the broken hilt and stepped back.
Char hesitated, his grip tightening on his daggers. "You're done, Lucien. Step down."
Lucien exhaled, stretching his shoulders. "You still don't get it, do you?"
He lifted his hands—one open, one clenched into a fist.
Then, before Char's eyes, something grew from his skin.
Crystals.
They shimmered with an eerie blue light, forming jagged, gleaming edges. A gauntlet of pure gemstone coated his right hand, while his left produced a long, thin blade that curved like a fang.
Char's stomach twisted.
Lucien saw his reaction and let out a breathy laugh.
"You really don't know," he mused. "You've seen the Ascension Stones, haven't you? You've felt their power. But did you ever stop to wonder why the Valkari never needed them?"
The crystal covering his arm pulsed, humming with energy.
"This is why."
He spread his arms wide.
"We were given this. Ever since my father and the group with him settled near the Jaffalex mountain range, we've lived in close proximity to the Stones. And over the years, we changed. Adapted. The same power that you had to awaken through force—we were embued with it."
Char's mind reeled.
That meant—every single Valkar had an ability like this?
Lucien twirled his new crystalline blade, his smirk widening.
"You awakened your power, didn't you?" he said. "I could tell. The way you fought—it was different. Faster. More precise." He tilted his head. "What did you get, I wonder?"
Char didn't answer.
Lucien let out a small chuckle. "It doesn't matter. Because now, you're facing me at my strongest."
He lifted his crystalline blade.
"Let's see if you can still keep up."
Then he lunged.