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Chapter 427: 5-star

"Not on my watch."

Aeliana's vision snapped into focus—

And there he was.

Luca.

Before her.

Standing between her and the Kraken's attack.

His estoc gleamed, locked against the massive tentacle, void-starlight crackling along its edge. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the battlefield, his coat billowing, his stance unshaken.

Despite the blood dripping from his lips.

Despite the wounds along his ribs.

Despite the fact that he was barely standing.

He was still there.

Aeliana glared at him, her body still wracked with pain, her breath uneven, her cursed veins pulsing with unstable energy—

And yet, her rage burned hotter than all of it.

"You—" she seethed, her voice raw with fury. "You absolute bastard—!"

Luca barely glanced at her, only shifting his eyes to the side for the briefest second. And of course—of course—

He smirked.

A slow, infuriating smirk, blood still dripping from the corner of his mouth, his stance still defiant against the sheer force of the Kraken's limb.

"Shouldn't you worry about yourself?" he mused, his tone laced with amusement. "You see, we need to get out of here first, don't we?"

Aeliana's fingers twitched, nails digging into the stone beneath her. Every ounce of pain, of hatred, of betrayal poured into the words that tumbled from her lips—

"Just you wait." Her voice was low, venomous. "I will make sure—"

Luca chuckled.

It wasn't mocking.

It wasn't cruel.

But it was enjoying this.

He was enjoying her hatred.

Enjoying the way her rage curled around him, the way her words dripped with the promise of violence.

It infuriated her.

"—that I'll be the one to kill you."

His smirk widened.

"Now that's the spirit."

And with that, he pushed back against the Kraken's limb, his blade flaring with void-starlight as he knocked the monstrous tentacle aside, his body moving with that same reckless grace.

Even as his wounds deepened.

Even as his breaths became just a fraction heavier.

Aeliana's entire body shook.

From the pain.

From the power raging inside her.

From him.

She didn't understand him.

She would never understand him.

But that didn't matter.

Because she would not let him die here.

Not until she got her answers.

Not until she had the chance to kill him herself.

The Kraken shrieked, its abyssal cry shaking the very cavern itself. Its severed limbs writhed and regrew, grotesque tendrils stitching themselves back together in mere moments. But it wasn't just healing.

It was adapting.

BOOM!

Another tentacle descended, cutting through the air like a falling mountain. The sheer force of it sent shockwaves blasting across the battlefield.

Lucavion moved.

SWOOSH!

He twisted, stepping into the attack rather than away from it, his body slipping just beyond the crushing impact. The tentacle obliterated the stone where he had just stood, fissures cracking outward like a spiderweb. But even as the dust rose, his estoc was already in motion.

「Void Starfall Blade: Crescent Ruin」

A flash of black starlight. A single, seamless arc.

And the tentacle split apart.

The Kraken shrieked again, but it wasn't done.

Its monstrous body pulsed—then twitched.

Tiny pores along its remaining limbs flared open, releasing a barrage of high-speed, obsidian-like darts.

They howled through the air, shrieking toward Lucavion like a rain of death.

'Tsk.' His eyes flickered, calculating their trajectory in an instant.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

Lucavion's blade danced.

Each flick of his wrist sent void-starlight slicing through the poisoned projectiles. He weaved between them effortlessly, his movements precise—too precise, as if he had seen this pattern a thousand times before.

Aeliana, still collapsed, barely managed to track his movements. Her body was screaming, her cursed veins pulsing erratically, but she could see it.

His steps. His rhythm.

Like a shadow slipping between cracks in reality itself.

Like a monster playing with its prey.

And then—

CRACK!

A monstrous glow built up in the Kraken's gaping abyss of a maw.

Aeliana's breath hitched.

It wasn't just a physical attack anymore.

The cavern shuddered as an impossible force condensed within the Kraken's core, dark tendrils of purplish-blue energy spiraling together, forming a concentrated mass of outerworldly starlight.

The air collapsed inward.

And then—

BOOOOOOM!

A pillar of cosmic destruction erupted from the Kraken's maw, a beam of raw, unearthly devastation aimed straight at Lucavion.

There was no dodging it.

No blocking it.

No—

Lucavion moved.

But not alone.

One second Aeliana was on the ground, her fingers still digging into the stone, rage clouding her vision.

The next—

Lucavion's arm wrapped around her waist.

Her breath vanished.

And then—

SWOOSH!

They blurred.

The world twisted around them, the very air shattering as Lucavion dragged her into his speed.

The cosmic beam annihilated everything in its path, carving a molten scar into the cavern, the sheer heat of it causing Aeliana's skin to prickle even from a distance.

But she wasn't looking at the attack.

She was looking at him.

Lucavion's grip was solid, unyielding despite his injuries. His expression was calm, almost bored, as if he had seen this exact moment play out in his mind countless times before.

His coat billowed as he landed lightly atop a crumbling stone platform, releasing her the second they were clear of the blast.

Aeliana stumbled, her body still weak—

But her glare was fierce.

"You—!"

Lucavion smirked, taking a casual step forward, his estoc resting lazily over his shoulder.

"You should be thanking me, you know," he mused, his voice still carrying that infuriating amusement.

Aeliana's nails scraped against the stone.

I will kill him.

But not here.

Not yet.

Because the Kraken wasn't done.

Lucavion's eyes flicked back to the monstrous abyss before them. The creature's wounds were sealing faster. Its attacks were growing smarter.

'Ah… so that's how it is,' he thought, rolling his shoulder. His free hand wiped the blood from his lips as his smirk widened.

Lucavion's eyes widened, a flicker of realization sparking in their depths. The chaos of the battlefield seemed to fall away, the relentless shrieks of the Kraken fading into the background as his gaze locked onto the destruction left in the wake of the cosmic beam.

A molten scar stretched across the cavern, the sheer power of the attack having carved a path of annihilation through stone and earth alike. The edges of the chasm glowed with residual heat, the air rippling with a lingering, suffocating pressure.

"So that's what I was lacking…" Luca murmured, his voice a mixture of fascination and something almost akin to satisfaction.

Aeliana's vision swam, her body still shaking, her cursed veins burning like fire beneath her skin. She barely registered the ground beneath her as Luca set her down, his grip firm but uncharacteristically gentle.

She wanted to curse him. To scream at him. To tear him apart for every single thing he had done, for every word he had spoken, for every lie he had let her believe.

But she had no strength left.

No breath.

Only a fractured, searing pain coursing through her—an agony that felt as though it would devour her from the inside out.

And Luca?

He was staring at the destruction as though it held the answers to the universe itself.

His lips parted, barely more than a whisper escaping them.

"Void."

Chapter 428: What was happening

Duke Thaddeus sat in his private chamber, his desk illuminated by the flickering glow of oil lamps. The heavy scent of parchment and ink filled the air, mingling with the faint brine that seeped in from the open window. His fingers moved methodically, flipping through reports and signing off on orders, yet his mind was only half-attentive. His thoughts kept drifting, his focus slipping like sand through his fingers.

Beyond the walls of his estate, the expedition team was preparing to depart. He could hear the faint sounds of movement in the distance—the shifting of weapons, the murmur of voices, the rhythmic march of boots upon stone. The harbor would be alive with activity, the air thick with tension as sailors made their final checks and mercenaries steadied themselves for what lay ahead.

And yet, something was wrong.

He exhaled slowly, placing his quill back into its inkwell. His hand hovered over the latest report—an account detailing the most recent wave of sea monster attacks. The numbers were troubling. Too many ships lost, too many experienced crews wiped out. Even the adventurers, who normally thrived off such crises, were wary.

The attacks had escalated too suddenly. The creatures weren't behaving as they normally did. The patterns were erratic, unnatural.

The Duke's brows furrowed as an unease settled deep in his gut, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. It wasn't just the monsters. It was something more.

Something unseen.

His fingers tapped against the parchment, his mind grasping for an answer he couldn't quite name. His instincts, honed by years of battle and politics, whispered to him—danger.

Slowly, his gaze drifted from his desk to the window. The sky beyond was vast and dark, a canvas of deep indigo stretching over the restless sea. The stars should have been clear tonight, but instead, they seemed dim, as if shrouded by something unseen.

A cold wind curled into the room, rustling the papers on his desk.

The Duke's jaw tightened.

'What is this feeling?'

It wasn't paranoia—he had lived long enough to recognize true premonition. It was the same instinct that had saved him on the battlefield, the same sense that warned him of shifting tides in court politics.

Something was coming.

He pushed his chair back and stood, stepping toward the window. His sharp eyes scanned the docks below, where the ships of the expedition sat waiting, their sails tightly bound, their hulls reflecting the moon's pale light.

From this vantage point, everything looked as it should. No sign of disturbance, no evidence of immediate danger. And yet—

His gaze lifted back to the sky.

The clouds had begun to shift, thickening in a way that felt unnatural. A deep pressure filled the air, an oppressive weight that pressed against his chest.

A storm? No, the winds were too still.

The Duke exhaled sharply, his hand gripping the window frame.

'Am I imagining things?'

A foolish thought. He never ignored his instincts, and he wouldn't start now. But what could he do? There was no enemy to strike down, no warning he could send without looking like a man grasping at shadows.

Still, something felt off. The sea was waiting, but for what?

And little did he know, this was one of the decisions that he would regret the most…

*****

The chamber was deathly quiet, save for the slow, deliberate tapping of Duke Thaddeus' fingers against his desk. The flickering lamps cast long shadows across the room, their dim light barely illuminating the faces of the men before him. They stood in silence—worn, battered, and barely holding themselves together.

His eyes drifted over them, taking in the raw devastation that clung to their forms.

Captain Edran, his most trusted knight, stood at the forefront, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. His once-pristine armor was in ruins—dented, cracked, streaked with grime and dried blood. His face, normally disciplined and unshaken, was pale and hollow-eyed. His lips were pressed into a thin, almost lifeless line, but his eyes—his eyes were the worst of all.

Haunted.

Next to him, Eryndor, another of his knights, looked no better. His gauntlet trembled slightly where it rested against the hilt of his sword, and his breathing was shallow. He did not even lift his head to meet the Duke's gaze. Behind them, the remnants of the expedition—those who had survived—stood in grim silence. Some were visibly shaking, others stared blankly at the ground as if their minds were still trapped in the horrors of what they had faced.

It was worse than he had imagined.

And the worst part of it all was that he had known.

He had felt it before they ever left.

The warning had been there, gnawing at the edges of his instincts, whispering of a disaster he could not see. That unnatural weight in the air, the shifting clouds, the eerie stillness before the storm—he should have acted. He should have sent more men, delayed the departure, done something.

Instead, he had watched from the shore as the fleet set sail, pushing aside his unease as baseless paranoia.

And then, two days later, the sky had darkened.

The sun had been swallowed by thick, roiling clouds that stretched far across the horizon. A silence unlike anything he had ever known had fallen over the land, and then—

A shadow.

A monstrous, unfathomable shadow, so vast that it could be seen from land, slithering through the deep.

The Duke had stood on the watchtower, his hands gripping the stone railing as he had stared out to sea, feeling an unfamiliar weight settle in his chest. Dread.

And now, here they stood—the ones who had made it back.

Edran finally spoke, his voice hoarse, as if it had been scraped raw. "Your Grace…" He hesitated, his throat working as though he were struggling to force the words out.

Thaddeus did not rush him.

Edran swallowed hard before continuing. "The expedition… it was a slaughter."

No embellishment. No unnecessary words.

Just the simple, devastating truth.

Thaddeus felt something cold coil in his chest.

"We didn't even have a chance to fight properly," Eryndor added, his voice quieter, more brittle. "It—it wasn't something we could prepare for."

Thaddeus studied them, waiting for the words that would confirm what he already knew.

Edran exhaled shakily. "The sea… it turned against us."

The Duke's brows furrowed. "Explain."

Edran looked up then, his bloodshot eyes filled with something between exhaustion and lingering horror. "At first, it was as expected—smaller monsters, swarms of them, coming at us in waves. It was manageable, albeit overwhelming. But then—" His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, he looked away as if the words themselves were too much to bear.

Eryndor picked up where he left off, his hands tightening into fists. "Then it appeared."

Silence pressed against the room.

The Duke's fingers curled into a fist atop his desk. "…What did?"

Edran met his gaze, and when he spoke, his voice was nearly a whisper.

"A Kraken."

A chill ran through the room.

The chamber remained deathly silent, the weight of Edran's words sinking into the very walls.

A Kraken.

Duke Thaddeus didn't flinch. He simply nodded, his sharp gaze unwavering. He had already known. The moment he had seen that colossal shadow twisting beneath the waves, there had been no doubt in his mind.

There was only one creature in this world vast enough to blot out the sea itself.

The legendary tentacled beast of the abyss.

The Kraken.

"…Go on," the Duke commanded, his voice even, controlled.

Edran hesitated for a moment before nodding. His hands, scarred and weathered from battle, clenched at his sides. "It came from the deep," he said, voice hoarse. "At first, we thought it was just another storm rolling in. The waves grew erratic, the wind howled, and the waters churned as if something beneath the surface had awoken."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, struggling against the memory.

"And then we saw them. The tentacles."

A few of the other knights in the room shifted uncomfortably. One of the mercenary captains, a man who had fought in countless naval skirmishes, had his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck stood out.

"They rose from the water like towers of flesh," Eryndor added, his voice barely above a whisper. "Black as night, covered in unholy runes that shimmered in the dark. Some of them were thicker than the masts of our largest ships."

The Duke's fingers tightened around the edge of his desk.

'So it really was the Kraken,' he thought grimly.

Edran continued. "At first, it didn't attack—not directly. It merely… moved." He exhaled shakily, as if saying the words aloud made them all the more real. "It coiled through the sea like a living storm, its body hidden beneath the waves. But every time it shifted, the ocean responded. Ships capsized without being touched. The currents turned against us. It was as if the water itself had betrayed us."

The Duke's lips pressed into a thin line. "And then?"

Edran's expression darkened, his eyes flickering with something hollow and raw. "Then it struck."

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly, as if trying to ground himself. "I remember the first ship it took. The Iron Drake. One moment, it was sailing ahead of us, its crew holding the line against the lesser sea beasts. The next—"

He snapped his fingers.

"Gone."

Chapter 429: What was happening (2)

Captain Edran took a steadying breath, his fingers flexing as if trying to shake off the ghostly touch of the past. His words had been measured, but the weight of them filled the chamber like an oppressive fog. The surviving knights and adventurers stood in solemn silence, their faces drawn, their bodies stiff with the remnants of battle.

Edran exhaled, his gaze darkening. "It happened all at once."

The Duke leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable, though his eyes remained sharp. "Explain."

Edran nodded grimly. "The Iron Drake was the first to go. One moment, it was ahead of us, holding formation, its crew fighting the lesser sea beasts as planned. Then—" he snapped his fingers, the sound cutting through the tense silence like a blade, "—gone."

A chill ran through the room. No embellishment. No hesitation. Just the sheer, brutal truth.

"The ship didn't sink," Eryndor added, his voice quiet but firm. "It was taken."

The Duke's fingers curled against the desk. "Taken?"

Edran nodded. "A tentacle rose from the depths, as wide as the ship itself. It moved faster than anything that size should, faster than any of us could react. The Iron Drake was lifted, its hull groaning under the pressure—"

A pause. A tremor in his voice.

"—and then it was dragged under."

The mercenary captain standing nearby let out a shaky breath, his knuckles white against the hilt of his sword. The other knights, hardened men who had survived countless battles, remained silent, their faces pale with the memory.

Edran's voice hardened. "No wreckage, no bodies. Just… gone."

Silence stretched in the chamber, heavy and suffocating.

"And that was only the beginning," Eryndor murmured. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning bone-white. "Once it struck, the rest of the fleet fell apart. The sea turned against us—the currents shifted violently, waves capsized ships that hadn't even been touched. The winds screamed as if the storm itself was alive. And the Kraken… it moved through it all like it commanded the ocean itself."

The Duke's jaw tightened. He had known. He had felt it. And yet, hearing it confirmed did not ease the weight in his chest.

Edran forced himself to continue. "We fought, of course. Tried to hold formation, to push back. Some of the adventurers managed to land blows on its tentacles—enchanted arrows, fire magic, even lightning spells. But none of it mattered. The wounds sealed as if they had never been there. It didn't fight like a beast."

His voice dropped, a whisper of disbelief. "It fought like a god."

Another silence. This time, one of understanding. The Duke exhaled through his nose, his thoughts moving rapidly. He had fought against overwhelming odds before. He had seen monsters, creatures of nightmare and legend. But even so—

Eryndor shifted, stepping forward. His posture was rigid, formal, but there was something else beneath it—hesitation. A thought he was struggling to voice.

"Your Grace," he said carefully, seeking permission.

Thaddeus inclined his head. "Speak."

Eryndor took a slow breath, steadying himself. "That Kraken… it wasn't normal."

The Duke's gaze snapped to him, his expression sharpening. "Not normal?" His voice was even, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. "How many Krakens have you seen?"

A small murmur rippled through the survivors. Eryndor met the Duke's gaze head-on, undeterred. "None, Your Grace," he admitted. "Not before this."

Thaddeus' fingers tapped against his desk, his narrowed eyes demanding an explanation.

Eryndor continued, his voice steady. "But there was someone who had seen something—who knew something. An adventurer. He was the one who saved many of us, who led a counterattack even when everything was falling apart."

The Duke frowned. "Who?"

Eryndor straightened. "Luca, Your Grace. The swordsman."

At that name, a shift went through the room. Some of the knights looked up in recognition, others exchanged glances. The Duke, however, remained still, waiting.

Eryndor took that as his cue to continue. "Luca was the first to call it what it was. The moment he saw it, he knew."

His voice dropped slightly, as if recalling the moment.

"He said: We are against a Kraken."

The Duke's eyes flickered with something unreadable. He remained silent, waiting.

Eryndor pressed on. "But that wasn't the part that stood out, Your Grace." He hesitated, then took a breath. "He also said… This thing—whatever it is—doesn't just feel out of place. It feels wrong."

That word hung in the air like a specter.

Wrong.

The Duke's expression darkened. "Explain."

Eryndor swallowed. "He said that its movements, its presence—it didn't belong. It wasn't just a creature of the sea. It was something else."

The room's temperature seemed to drop.

Thaddeus leaned forward, his voice lower now. "And do you believe him?"

Eryndor met his gaze without hesitation. "Yes, Your Grace."

Eryndor exhaled, steadying himself before continuing. "That kid… he wasn't normal."

The Duke's gaze remained sharp, watching him with quiet intensity.

"The way he fought," Eryndor went on, his voice measured but firm, "it wasn't just skill—it was something more. He threw himself into the fight as if his life meant nothing, yet every move was calculated. His talent… it was beyond what should be possible for an adventurer of his rank."

Thaddeus raised an eyebrow at that. "Are you certain?"

Eryndor nodded. "I watched him closely. From what I observed, his rank was only 4-star—nothing more, nothing less."

A slight pause.

"And yet, he achieved that rank in the middle of the battle."

A murmur rippled through the chamber. Some of the knights stiffened at the revelation, while the mercenary captain inhaled sharply. Even Edran, who had remained silent until now, furrowed his brow.

Thaddeus' fingers tightened slightly against the desk. His voice was quieter now, but it carried a heavy weight. "He broke through in the middle of the fighting?"

"That is correct," Eryndor confirmed without hesitation.

The Duke's gaze darkened in thought.

Breaking through a rank mid-battle was no ordinary feat. It was rare—exceptionally so. Most Awakened required preparation, a controlled environment, time to focus. To ascend in the midst of chaos, with one's life hanging by a thread… that was the mark of either a reckless fool or a true warrior forged in the crucible of death.

And something told him that this Luca was not a fool.

Eryndor wasn't finished. His voice lowered slightly, but the weight in his words increased.

"Even though he was a 4-star Awakened… it felt like he could go face to face against me."

Thaddeus' eyes sharpened. "Against you?"

A pause.

Eryndor nodded once, his expression grim. "A peak 5-star."

The chamber fell into complete silence.

The impact of his words settled over the room like a storm cloud.

Edran's jaw tightened slightly, his mind clearly working through the implications. The other knights and adventurers exchanged looks, some skeptical, others unnerved.

The Duke, however, did not react immediately. He studied Eryndor carefully, as if searching for any sign of exaggeration. He found none.

Thaddeus finally leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden surface. His voice, when he spoke, was softer than before—but laced with unmistakable intrigue.

"…That is not something I can ignore."

The flickering lamps cast shifting shadows across his face, accentuating the contemplative edge in his gaze.

A 4-star… holding his own against a peak 5-star?

That was not merely talent. That was an anomaly.

"Eryndor," Thaddeus said, his tone firm, "are you certain?"

The knight held his gaze. "I am, Your Grace."

Another beat of silence. Then the Duke exhaled through his nose, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

"If that is true," he murmured, "then this Luca is no ordinary adventurer. No one reaches that level alone." His gaze flickered toward the knights. "There is a high chance he is the disciple of a high-ranked Awakened."

Eryndor inclined his head. "That is my belief as well."

The Duke's fingers steepled, his thoughts racing. If this Luca truly had a master of that caliber, then whoever trained him was someone of significant power. Someone who had cultivated him in secret. And if he broke through mid-battle, against an opponent like the Kraken, it meant he had been on the edge of that threshold for some time—waiting for the right moment.

A disciple of a master. A swordsman with an unnatural presence. A fighter whose rank did not reflect his true strength.

Thaddeus' gaze drifted toward the window, where the distant sea stretched into the night.

"…Interesting."

For the first time since the disastrous expedition, a new thought took root in his mind.

Luca.

He would need to see this boy for himself.

Chapter 430: What was happening (3)

The chamber was thick with tension, the weight of revelations hanging over them like an oppressive storm. Duke Thaddeus, fingers still steepled, exhaled through his nose, his gaze steady as he regarded Eryndor.

"Where is this Luca now?"

He expected an answer that would lead to an inquiry—a way to summon the swordsman, to question him directly. But the moment Eryndor hesitated, Thaddeus knew something was wrong.

The knight's jaw tightened, and his hands clenched at his sides. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reluctant.

"He was swallowed by the vortex, Your Grace."

Silence.

Thaddeus' fingers stopped tapping. A slow, heavy pause settled over the room as the words sank in.

"…Swallowed?" His voice remained steady, but there was a new sharpness beneath it, something keen and piercing.

Eryndor nodded. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Yes, Your Grace."

Edran spoke then, his voice hoarse. "We lost sight of him during the final moments of the battle. The Kraken had already decimated most of our forces, but the vortexes… they were the true death sentence."

Another murmur passed through the gathered survivors. Some shifted uncomfortably, their faces darkened by memories they wished they could forget.

Thaddeus narrowed his eyes. "Explain."

Eryndor took in a slow breath, steadying himself before he spoke. "The vortexes, Your Grace… They were unlike anything we've ever seen. They didn't behave naturally. They didn't move naturally."

Edran nodded grimly. "At first, they appeared small, no different from whirlpools formed by the chaos of battle. But they… grew—fast. Too fast. The sea itself twisted unnaturally, pulling everything into them. And once they took hold of something, it was gone."

Thaddeus frowned. "Gone? Ships are wrecked in storms. Men drown in the sea. What makes these vortexes different?"

Eryndor's expression was grim. "Because there were no bodies."

The room grew colder.

Thaddeus' gaze sharpened. "No bodies?"

"None," Edran confirmed, his voice edged with something uneasy. "Not a single survivor who got caught in them returned. No wreckage surfaced. No remains. The moment something fell in… it disappeared."

Thaddeus felt something shift within him. A rare, unfamiliar feeling creeping at the edges of his mind.

Doubt.

Even in his years as a seasoned warrior, as a man who had faced countless horrors both natural and supernatural, this was something new. The sea devoured men, yes, but it returned them. A wreck, a body, something.

For nothing to remain…

"…And this happened to many?" His voice was quiet now, but it carried a dangerous undertone.

Eryndor exhaled. "Too many. We lost entire ships—not just to the Kraken, but to those vortexes. Adventurers, knights, mages—men of all ranks and skills were pulled in. No one who fell in resurfaced. It was as if the sea swallowed them whole."

Thaddeus' eyes flickered. "And yet Luca lasted."

Eryndor hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "Yes, Your Grace. He was at the forefront, cutting through the Kraken's assault. Even when the battlefield was falling apart, he was still fighting. But then…" He clenched his fists, his voice dipping lower. "He pushed the Mage Elara out of the way. Saved her from being taken."

Elara.

That name was not unfamiliar to the Duke. He had heard reports of the young mage before—a skilled frost-wielder. But right now, she was not the focus of his interest.

Luca had pushed her out of the vortex's grasp.

And had been taken himself.

Thaddeus leaned back in his chair, his mind shifting through possibilities. The Kraken had been enough of a disaster, but these vortexes… they changed everything. A monster could be fought, a storm endured, but an unnatural force that erased men and ships from existence? That was something else entirely.

And yet, in those final moments, Luca had been aware enough to act.

A 4-star who fought like a 5-star. A man whose strength seemed to surpass his limits. A swordsman who might have been the disciple of a high-ranked Awakened.

And now he was gone.

His fingers tightened against the armrest.

"This vortex," he finally said, his voice measured, "you believe it was worse than the Kraken itself?"

Eryndor's nod was immediate. "Without question."

Edran exhaled. "The Kraken was a force of nature, but we could see it. It was tangible. We could at least fight back, even if it was futile." His voice darkened. "But the vortex… it chose its victims. It appeared suddenly, pulled men in, and left nothing behind."

The Duke's expression remained unreadable, but his thoughts were already moving ahead.

This was not just a failed expedition.

This was something else.

Something no man had foreseen.

And Luca—whether by fate or by his own reckless will—had been taken by it.

The question now was not whether he had fallen.

The question was whether he would return.

The heavy silence in the chamber was shattered by the sudden creak of the door. All heads turned as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed against the marble floor.

Madeleina.

The Duke's most trusted attendant, ever poised and composed, now stood at the threshold of the room looking disturbed. Her usual mask of calm control had cracked, and her face—pale, almost bloodless—betrayed the urgency of her message.

Thaddeus' sharp eyes narrowed.

Something was wrong.

Madeleina took a deep breath before stepping forward. Though her formality remained intact, there was a slight tremor in her movements. Without waiting for permission, she bowed swiftly at the waist.

"Forgive my intrusion, Your Grace," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But this could not wait."

Thaddeus didn't speak. He simply waited.

Then, Madeleina lifted her head, and in that moment, she dropped the weight of the world onto the chamber.

"Lady Aeliana…" Her breath hitched. "She was swallowed by the vortex."

The chamber froze.

For a moment, there was only silence. A deep, suffocating stillness that pressed down on the gathered knights like a crushing wave.

The Duke did not move. Did not even breathe.

Then—

"What?" His voice was quiet, almost too calm, but those present could feel the storm brewing beneath the surface.

Madeleina clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "It… happened at the end of the battle," she continued, her voice straining to remain steady. "The last of the vortexes had begun to dissipate, but then… then one surged beneath her platform."

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "There was no time. No chance to react."

Eryndor and Edran exchanged looks, their own horror deepening.

Lady Aeliana.

The Duke's own daughter.

The silence in the chamber was absolute.

Madeleina, still bowed before him, did not move. Her head remained lowered, her posture rigid, but even she could not suppress the slight tremor in her shoulders.

The weight of the words she had spoken settled over the room like a suffocating storm.

Aeliana.

His daughter.

Swallowed by the vortex.

Thaddeus' fingers curled, gripping the armrest of his chair with such force that the wood groaned beneath his grasp.

A crack splintered through the silence.

Not from the furniture, but from the air itself.

A pressure—his pressure—began to leak into the chamber. It was not conscious. It was not controlled. It was raw, unfettered, and as vast as the ocean beyond these walls.

The air grew heavy.

The flames of the oil lamps flickered wildly, as if gasping for breath.

The gathered knights instinctively stiffened, their bodies tensing under the sudden shift in atmosphere. Edran clenched his jaw, his hands tightening at his sides. Eryndor, battle-hardened as he was, exhaled slowly through his nose, his fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to move.

But it was Madeleina who bore the brunt of it.

The moment his gaze locked onto her, she felt it. The full, crushing weight of his fury.

She had served him for years. She had stood by his side in court, in war, in the shadows of the empire where few dared to tread. She had seen the Duke strike down men with a single command, witnessed his cold, calculated decisions that shifted the balance of power with the precision of a master strategist.

But this—

This was not the Duke.

This was a father.

A father whose daughter had been taken.

And she was the one responsible.

Madeleina's breath hitched as the sheer pressure forced her deeper into her bow. The weight was immense, pressing against her bones, squeezing her chest until she could barely inhale.

And then, the Duke spoke.

His voice was low. Too low.

"Explain."