A low, ominous creaking filled the air, sending an involuntary shiver down Xylara's spine.
At first, she thought it was the shifting wind, but the sound—deep, visceral, unnatural—came from Lycius himself.
His bones.
A grotesque symphony of cracks and snaps echoed as his very skeleton expanded, reshaping itself with an eerie, methodical precision. His flesh stretched over his growing frame, muscles tightening and restructuring, thickening with each passing second.
It was an excruciating transformation, one that should have left any being writhing in agony.
Yet—Lycius remained perfectly still.
His expression was unreadable, his body rigid, as if he merely found the process inconvenient rather than painful.
And then—the growth stopped.
Before Xylara stood a man—a deity of flesh and power.
Lycius had changed.
Gone was the child-like youthfulness that once clung to him.
Now, he was a vision of masculine perfection.
His obsidian-black hair, which had grown long and wild from the transformation, shimmered under the dim light. With a single, precise motion, he lifted his hand—sharp as a blade—and cut away the excess strands.
What remained was messy yet effortlessly regal, adding to his air of untouchable dominance.
His face— flawless, sculpted, as if carved by the hands of the Goddess of Beauty herself.
Sharp jawline. Defined cheekbones.
And those golden eyes.
Glowing, piercing—they were no longer just mesmerizing.
They were dangerous. Predatory.
A single glance from them could seduce or destroy.
But it wasn't just his face that had changed.
His body—lean, yet chiseled with pure muscle, was built for both strength and agility. Each movement spoke of power restrained, of lethal elegance coiled beneath unblemished skin.
However, the greatest transformation was his wings.
The once celestial, ethereal glow of Drakonix Aetheria had been eclipsed by a new, ominous presence.
Now, his wings were darkness incarnate.
Obsidian-feathered monstrosities, radiating both dread and awe.
They were not just a testament to his divinity.
They were a warning.
A proclamation of his nature—an entity of power and terror.
Lycius now stood at a towering 6.8 feet, his very presence overwhelming.
Xylara's breath hitched.
Her heart pounded.
This was no longer the boy she had started to hate.
This was a being who embodied the very meaning of handsomeness— and danger.
She could not stop her eyes from trailing down his body.
From the strong curve of his shoulders to the hard lines of his abdomen—and then lower.
She froze.
A deep, treacherous heat coiled within her as realization struck.
He was big.
Terrifyingly big.
Heat flooded her cheeks, her mind betraying her as unwanted thoughts slithered in.
"No. No, no, focus Xylara! This man is the cause of your downfall!"
With a sharp slap to her own cheek, she forced herself back to reality.
Meanwhile, Lycius, completely unfazed by his own nudity, examined his new form with calm amusement.
A smirk of approval tugged at his lips.
"Now this is more like it."
He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw precision and control that came with his evolved body.
"With a body like this, cutting and slicing should be much easier."
At his words, an image flickered in his mind—his scythe.
A weapon built for devastation.
Xylara, misinterpreting his statement, perked up in curiosity.
"Oh? I didn't know he liked cooking."
The innocent thought flashed through her mind.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
Lycius had no interest in cooking.
What he meant was that dismembering his enemies would now be effortless.
He was dark to the core.
Even as he stood bare before the open sky, Lycius felt no shame.
Who could feel embarrassment when possessing such a divine form?
However, that did not mean he would parade himself unclothed.
His golden gaze swept over the city below, his mind already set.
Before he reduced this province to nothing—
He would first find himself some clothes.
Though hovering above the city, Lycius saw no reason to descend.
Why bother when he had a servant to handle such menial tasks?
His gaze shifted to Xylara.
The moment their eyes met, she stiffened.
A sharp shudder ran through her body, as if his stare alone had crushed something within her.
Pathetic.
The quiet disappointment in his golden eyes was almost suffocating.
"Flinching from a mere gaze?"
His voice was like silk over steel—soft yet scathing.
"Such fragility. But worry not—"
He leaned forward slightly, his smirk cruel.
"When I'm done with you, weakness will no longer be an option."
Xylara's lips parted in protest, but no words came.
She couldn't argue.
She wanted to. But deep down, something inside her—some fragile, flickering ember of defiance—was dying.
Maybe he's right... Maybe I do need to change...
The thought disturbed her.
She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze any longer.
Lycius's smirk widened at her silent submission.
"Serve your Master. Go find me some clothes."
Without hesitation, Xylara turned and dived toward the city, her wings slicing through the air as she sought out the nearest clothing store.
Lycius, left alone in the sky, let out a low chuckle.
He flexed his fingers.
It had been far too long since his scythe had tasted blood.
Extending his hand, he called upon it.
The void stirred.
Reality itself seemed to bend as the weapon materialized in his grasp, responding to its master's summons.
Lycius let out a slow exhale, feeling the weight of the scythe settle into his palm.
Perfect.
With a flick of his wrist, he swung it through the air—a blur of obsidian and crimson energy.
Each motion was precise.
Each strike carried deadly elegance.
A masterful combination of beauty and brutality.
To the untrained eye, it was mesmerizing. A dance of death.
But to those who understood battle, it was terrifying. Every slash was calculated, each movement designed to carve through vital points, severing arteries, beheading with chilling efficiency.
Lycius smiled to himself.
"Yes... This is how it should be."
It was then that Xylara returned.
She paused mid-air, her eyes fixating on the scene before her.
Lycius—practicing the art of slaughter, his strikes weaving through the air like a grim reaper painting his masterpiece.
Her breath caught in her throat.
This wasn't the beauty of combat.
This was pure terror.
Noticing her arrival, Lycius came to a stop.
Without a word, the clothes in Xylara's hands vanished—and in an instant, reappeared on his body, already worn.
He now stood clad in:
~A fine linen undershirt, layered beneath
~A silk tunic of deep black, its embroidery intricate and regal.
~Linen hose, tailored to fit his tall, muscular frame.
~Leather boots, a sturdy belt, and a long surcoat, adding a refined edge to his ruthless presence.
Lycius ran a hand along the fabric.
Only the best.
Unknowingly, Xylara had chosen the finest garments for him—as she should.
A satisfied smirk curved his lips.
But then—his eyes darkened.
It was time.
His gaze bore into Xylara, his next words stripping her of what little will she had left.
"Xylara."
She stiffened.
"After your 'subjects' fill the streets, inform them of their sins—then slaughter them. Every last one of them."
Her pupils shrank.
"And don't you dare grant them instant death."
A slow, wicked grin stretched across his face.
"They should bleed out... They should suffer, screaming as they watch their families and friends murdered by the very Queen they once worshipped."
"They should regret everything."
"Regret ever following someone who defied my mother's rule."
"Regret believing in you."
"Even the simple act of remaining in this wretched kingdom should fill them with despair."
Silence.
A silence so heavy it crushed the air itself.
Xylara's blood ran cold.
The color drained from her eyes.
Her mouth opened—but only one thing left her lips.
"I'd rather die."
Her voice was hollow.
A whisper of defiance.
Lycius's golden eyes gleamed.
And then—
He laughed.
Low. Mocking. Cruel.
A sound that wrapped around her like chains, suffocating her.
"A bit too late for that, isn't it?"
His grin widened, amusement laced with something darker.
"You're mine now."
He reached toward her—but didn't touch.
He didn't need to.
His voice alone was enough to shatter her.
"And how could I ever allow something of mine to simply die?"
His next words, though beautiful, were absolute.
"As your Master, I am obliged to protect you."
Then, in an instant, his voice lost all amusement.
It became an order.
"Now—
Don't make me repeat myself."
Xylara's breath hitched.
She felt it.
Something deep inside her obeying—against her will.
Her body was already moving.
Even as her mind screamed in horror, she felt herself readying to carry out her Master's command.
Lycius smiled at the sight of Xylara's forced submission.
Her body obeyed—even as her mind rebelled.
It was a beautiful thing to witness.
His gaze shifted to his scythe, the wicked grin on his lips widening.
Without another word, they descended.
The winds howled around them as they lowered, the altitude of their flight decreasing.
And then—with a single, effortless swing of his scythe—
Chaos erupted.
The mere force of his strike tore through the city below, sending a ripple of destruction outward.
Buildings collapsed. Stone and wood shattered, reduced to dust under the sheer magnitude of his strength.
The echo of destruction rolled through the streets, awakening the city in terror.
One by one, people poured from their homes, their faces painted with confusion and fear.
Different races—humans, beastfolk, and other non-Desire Kind—flooded the streets.
Lycius's sharp gaze flickered with curiosity.
Far too few of the Desire Kind.
Why?
Kiara had mentioned that many of them had spread to other territories, but… for the province of their kingdom to be this barren of their own kind?
This city of the Desire Kingdom—reduced to a mere shell of what it should have been.
Lycius filed the thought away for later.
Right now, there were far more pressing matters at hand.
He had an announcement to make.
A cruel smile curved his lips as he raised a single hand.
Mana gathered at his fingertips, weaving into the very air itself.
The atmosphere hummed.
Power pulsed outward, an invisible force amplifying his voice as he spoke.
"Good morning, citizens of the Desire Kingdom."
His words rang through the city, commanding attention.
"Today has been chosen for the beginning of a rather… interesting event."
A hush fell over the crowd.
Bodies stiffened.
"An event hosted by none other than a very special guest…
Your beloved queen—
Queen Xylara Lightbringer."
Silence.
A silence so heavy, it felt as though the city itself had stopped breathing.
_______________
---------------
°°°°°°