CHAPTER 137: "ARE YOU READY TO TALK?"

The Nova Sanctum’s hull split open again, panels shifting with quiet precision. Rows of warheads slid into place, their faint hum lost in the storm clouds.

Lucian sat forward, one elbow on the arm of the chair, chin resting against his fist. His eyes stayed fixed on the valley below, where tiny red lights pulsed across Alfred’s holo-map. Hundreds of life signatures. And two that glowed brighter than the rest.

One of them stirred.

The air in the valley shifted. Trees bent under invisible weight. The highest-ranked presence—the XX guardian—rose.

Through the ship’s reinforced glass, Lucian saw it emerge from the settlement: a towering figure cloaked in armor of bone and black hide, horns jutting from its skull like jagged spears. Its aura burned across the valley like a storm, waves of energy forcing the weaker monsters to their knees.

Kaelis uncoiled slightly on Lucian’s shoulders, molten eyes gleaming. "There it is."

Lucian didn’t answer. His hand lifted once, calm, precise.

"Fire."

The warheads streaked from the Sanctum’s belly in white arcs. The first wave hit the valley with earth-splitting force, detonations ripping through the settlement like suns igniting at ground level. Buildings folded inward. Fire rolled out in waves, consuming everything in its path.

But the guardian stood.

With a roar that split the night, the creature raised its arms. Shields of black fire erupted around the valley, thick walls of energy crashing upward to meet the storm. For a moment the flames bent away, the bombardment shattering against the guardian’s power.

For a moment.

The next salvo tore through. Warhead after warhead hammered down, ripping holes in the shield. The ground quaked, shockwaves shaking the mountains. The guardian staggered, body outlined in light as his defenses faltered.

Still he stood. His roar shook the flames. He caught one of the incoming blasts with his own hands, the explosion bursting around him in molten waves.

Lucian’s lips curved faintly. "Stubborn."

The bombardment continued. Dozens of warheads at once fell in a merciless wave, each one cracking the guardian’s aura, each one ripping chunks of earth skyward. By the time the smoke cleared, the valley was gone—only a crater of ash and twisted stone remained.

But not silence.

From the ruin, a shape moved.

The XX guardian still stood. His body bled from a hundred wounds, his skin scorched, but his eyes glowed bright. He raised his head to the skies, chest heaving, and roared again.

Kaelis rumbled low, smoke curling from his nostrils. "He lives."

Lucian exhaled slowly. "Good."

He rose from the chair, his cloak sliding across the floor. Without another word, his body blurred, space folding around him. In an instant he was gone from the Sanctum.

The world snapped back around him.

Lucian stood in the crater, dust and smoke curling in the air. Across from him, the guardian froze mid-step. His massive chest heaved, blood running down his arms. His jagged horns gleamed faint in the moonlight as his gaze locked on Lucian.

The creature’s voice cracked the silence, deep and guttural. "Human?"

Lucian tilted his head, golden eyes steady. And then he spoke—not in the tongue of hunters, but in the guttural, twisting cadence of the monsters themselves. "Not quite."

The guardian’s eyes widened. His breath caught. "You... you speak our tongue."

Lucian’s expression didn’t shift. "Surprised?"

The monster’s claws flexed. His massive frame straightened despite the pain. "So it’s true. One of us betrayed the nation. They gave you this. They fed you our words." His voice trembled, not with fear but with fury. "Who was it? Malrix? Varna? Which of them sold us?"

Lucian’s smirk was faint, sharp. He stepped closer, his boots silent against the broken earth. "That’s what you think?"

The guardian’s aura flared, chains of black fire curling around his arms. "No human learns our tongue. No hunter bends space like you. Only betrayal makes this possible."

Lucian stopped a few paces away, his eyes burning faint gold in the smoke. His voice was calm, almost quiet. "Or maybe you’ve mistaken what stands in front of you."

The guardian’s chest rose and fell, his breathing ragged. He stared at Lucian, searching his face for something—truth, lie, weakness. But all he found was stillness.

"Then what are you?" the monster growled.

Lucian’s smirk faded, his expression unreadable. He didn’t answer.

The silence stretched. The crater’s dust drifted in slow spirals around them, the ruins of the settlement glowing faint red in the distance.

At last, the guardian bared his teeth. "It doesn’t matter. Betrayal or not, I’ll tear you apart here."

Lucian’s golden eyes narrowed faintly. "Try."

The guardian’s roar shook the earth again. Black fire exploded from his body, tearing through the smoke, chains of molten flame whipping through the crater as he charged.

Lucian stood still, his cloak snapping in the sudden gale.

Space warped around his hands.

And the two figures met in the ruin—one, a guardian of a nation now drowning in fear. The other, an unseen storm, speaking a language he was never meant to know.

The crater shook as the guardian charged.

His chains of black fire lashed down like rivers of molten tar, tearing trenches into the stone. Each step cracked the ground, his aura heavy enough to crush weaker monsters to dust.

Lucian didn’t move.

At the last instant, space folded around his body. The guardian’s chains struck—but passed through empty air, dissolving against a warped horizon.

Lucian appeared behind him. Calm. Silent.

The guardian snarled and spun, claws sweeping wide. A mountain of muscle and fury, his strike could have split towers in two. But Lucian raised one hand, palm flat.

The blow stopped.

Not because of strength. Not because of force. But because Lucian bent the space between them, freezing the claw mid-swing as though the air itself had locked it in place.

The guardian’s teeth bared, his voice cracking in disbelief. "What—"

Lucian’s golden eyes flicked toward him, sharp and steady.

Then he pressed his palm forward.

The air imploded.

The guardian was flung backward, his massive frame crashing across the broken earth, gouging a trench as fire sputtered from his arms. He forced himself up again, chest heaving, black flames raging hotter.

With a roar, he hurled them forward—an inferno dense enough to melt stone.

Lucian stepped once, the ground folding under his foot. The flames bent away from him, space stretching, folding, until the inferno curved back around and crashed into the crater walls.

The guardian staggered, eyes widening at his own attack turning against him.

Lucian blurred. One breath he was across the field, the next he stood inches from the monster’s chest. His hand shot forward, gripping the guardian’s throat.

The creature roared, claws striking down, but Lucian twisted. Space warped around his movement, and the claws missed by miles though they were only inches away.

He slammed the guardian into the earth. The ground cratered again, dust erupting like smoke.

Lucian’s cloak whipped in the gale, his grip never loosening. His golden eyes burned through the smoke.

The guardian’s aura flared, chains of fire lashing in desperation, but each one unraveled as soon as it touched Lucian—dissolving like ash in wind.

Pinned, bleeding, the guardian’s chest heaved, his voice rasping through clenched teeth. "What... are you?"

Lucian leaned closer, his tone calm. Almost bored. "The one asking questions."

He tightened his grip just enough for the guardian to choke, black fire sputtering from his mouth. Then he eased it, letting air drag back into the monster’s lungs.

"Now," Lucian said, voice quiet but cutting through the ruin like steel, "are you ready to talk?"

The guardian’s eyes, bright with fury a moment ago, flickered. His breath was ragged. He searched Lucian’s face again, desperate for something—weakness, arrogance, maybe even mercy. But Lucian’s expression was unreadable, only those golden eyes steady, unyielding.

For the first time, the guardian faltered. His body went still under Lucian’s grip.

And in the silence that followed, the only sound was the low hum of space warping around them, like the world itself waited for his answer.