The clearing fell silent, save for the sickening splatter of blood soaking the earth. Volkar stood unmoving, his halberd lowered, still dripping with gore. The bisected corpse of the bandit leader lay in a twisted heap before him.
Lucien didn't even blink, only smiled—his eyes calmly watching the scene unfold, as if taking in a beautiful painting. In his mind, something clicked—a sense of vindication, of righteous authority. This wasn't cruelty. This was order.
"Kill them all, Volkar. They annoy me."
Without hesitation, Volkar raised his weapon.
Before engaging, he reached up with one hand and pulled back his hood. Green necrotic fire erupted from the exposed space where a neck should be. Suspended in the flame was his skull, floating ominously above broad armored shoulders. The emerald blaze illuminated the clearing in an eerie light, causing several of the remaining bandits to falter.
"M-Monster!" one of them shrieked.
But their fear did nothing to stop Volkar. He surged forward, his halberd carving arcs of death through the night. Limbs flew, bones shattered, screams echoed. He moved with brutal efficiency, his every strike precise and final. He fought like a force of nature—an executioner in motion, tearing through the dozen men as if they were no more than training dummies.
Lucien sat silently in his chair, observing the slaughter with disturbing calm. The flickering firelight danced in his eyes, and a thought floated through his mind—not of pity or guilt, but of assessment. Of calculation. Of cold interest. He marveled at Volkar's precision. This was power. This was control.
Yet even a general such as Volkar could not be everywhere at once.
One of the bandits had broken off, circling behind while Volkar was focused on two assailants ahead. He emerged from the treeline just behind Lucien, breathing hard, sword already drawn.
Before Lucien could react, the cold steel was at his throat, and a strong arm pinned him to the chair, shoulder first. Pain exploded in his body.
"Agh—!"
The bandit grinned wickedly. "One move, and I'll slit your little lord's throat."
Lucien could barely respond. A stinging sensation bloomed across his neck, and a sharp pain burned deep in his shoulder. He could feel the fractures forming. A system message flashed in his mind:
> Status Effect Gained: [Broken Bones] – STR and DEX reduced by 50%. Pain intensified.
He had forgotten. He wasn't strong. He wasn't fast. His STR and CON were 1. His DEX was 0. This wasn't a game where death came with a cooldown.
This was real.
He'd been relying too much on his summons. On Volkar. On the necroforge. Even his own skill, *Bone Thorn*, was the lowest tier, and he'd barely used it.
Now, he had no choice.
"Volkar," Lucien wheezed, raising his voice. "Don't move."
Volkar froze, the halberd still raised mid-swing. His burning skull glared with fury, but he obeyed.
The bandit behind Lucien tightened his grip.
Lucien gritted his teeth, forcing composure. He began to speak, carefully calibrating his tone—less arrogance, more calculated fear.
"Listen," he said softly, "this doesn't have to end badly for you. I have coin. Artifacts. Let's make a deal. You let me go, I'll make sure you walk away richer than you ever dreamed. We can both get something out of this."
The man sneered. "You killed my friends. Too late for deals now."
Lucien forced a weak chuckle. "You kill me, and you die anyway. Volkar will carve you open the second I drop. But if you don't... maybe there's a way out of this. Walk away now, and maybe no one else has to die."
The man paused. His breath was shaky. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now," Lucien said, voice steadying, the pain forcing his focus. "And because you're not even looking at me."
The bandit blinked.
Lucien acted.
> [Skill Activated: Bone Thorn]
Eight bone shards materialized behind Lucien, silent as shadows. He could feel the strain, the pain gnawing at him—but he endured it.
He hadn't aimed them precisely—merely summoned them behind himself, banking on the man's body to block several and let the rest find a path.
A flick of Lucien's finger.
Five thorns launched forward—piercing into the man's left side. One drove through his shoulder blade. The man screamed in agony, losing control of the sword.
Volkar moved.
With supernatural speed, the Dullahan general closed the distance. His halberd swept through the air in a single devastating arc.
The man's head left his shoulders, flying into the underbrush.
Silence reclaimed the clearing.
Lucien let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling. He looked at the blood running down his neck and winced.
Volkar stepped forward, placing a hand on his master's shoulder—not with force, but reassurance.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on the body.
He wasn't invincible.
But now, he understood.
This was real. And he would never be caught off guard again.
Volkar stood among the corpses, his halberd now still. The night was quiet once more, save for the gentle hiss of blood cooling on iron.
Lucien's expression had changed. The arrogant glimmer in his eyes had faded, replaced by something colder, more thoughtful. His fingers trembled slightly as he stared at the translucent blue window hovering before him.
**[HP: 12/20]**
Eight points. Just eight.
Such a small number. And yet, it had nearly cost him everything.
He hadn't even noticed how cold the night had become. His body ached, a deep gnawing pain chewing at his shoulder and neck. The pain lingered—not as a sensation to be ignored, but as if it were anchoring him to reality, grounding him in the harsh truth that his body was frail. This wasn't some temporary discomfort. It was a reminder.
A warning.
Volkar approached, now done with his grim work, the flames dimming around his skull. He dropped to one knee before Lucien.
"They have all been dealt with, my lord," he said with a bowed head.
Lucien didn't respond. He just stared at the floating numbers—his mortality quantified, digitized, made undeniable.
Volkar hesitated. "...I am sorry, my lord. I should have seen him sooner. I failed you."
Lucien slowly blinked, then lowered his eyes to meet Volkar's.
"No…" he said quietly. "You didn't fail. This was my fault. My arrogance… the way I treated this like a game."
His jaw clenched. "I thought just because I had power, I was untouchable. I relied too heavily on you. On the Necroforge. On everything but myself."
A silence fell between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was heavy. Honest.
"This world isn't something I'm playing in anymore," Lucien said, finally closing the status window. "It's something I have to survive in. Truly live in."
Volkar remained kneeling, watching his master with a faint nod of understanding.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, the ache in his bones settling like a weight draped across his shoulders.
"I won't make the same mistake again."
---
After the blood had cooled and the corpses were still, Volkar and Lucien scoured the area for anything of value. The bandits hadn't carried much—some scattered coin, a few worn weapons, a pouch of dried meat, and a cracked gemstone that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. Hardly a fortune, but it was something. Enough to call it spending money, at least.
With what they could carry secured, they returned to the main path, leaving behind the carnage in the forest. Volkar's hood was pulled back over his flaming skull, concealing his unsettling form once again. His halberd disappeared, swallowed by the abyss from which it had come. He said nothing.
Lucien, still pale and slightly hunched from the lingering pain, was silent as well. The path stretched ahead into the darkness, framed by the towering silhouettes of trees. They moved in tandem—Volkar pushing the wheelchair steadily, and Lucien absorbed in thought, eyes flicking idly across the flickering blue interface hovering before him.
He opened the store tab.
Rows of items, abilities, and equipment lined the screen—most far beyond what he could afford or use. Still, he combed through them, searching for something that could give him an edge. Something that could mean the difference between life and death.
Eventually, his gaze landed on one entry.
> **Mana Barrier** – When attacked, damage is dealt to your mana pool instead of your HP. When mana reaches 0, damage is applied to HP.
He tapped on it, pulling up the detailed description. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't offensive. But it was survival. It was insurance.
Another item caught his eye.
> **Soul Siphon** – Regain 2% mana when you or one of your summons kills a creature that yields experience.
Lucien's finger hovered over the screen. These two together… one could defend, the other sustain. It wouldn't make him invincible, but it would buy him time. Options. The power to endure.
He didn't hesitate.
> **Purchased: Mana Barrier – 500 SP**
> **Purchased: Soul Siphon – 120 SP**
His available SP dropped, but a sense of security returned to him. A fragile layer of reassurance, but reassurance nonetheless.
The night rolled on, wind brushing gently through the trees. Lucien looked up briefly, catching a glimpse of the stars. They were brighter here than in the crypt. Freer.
Still, neither he nor Volkar said a word. There was no need.
They just moved forward.