Chereads / Fate of the Marked / Chapter 26 - Pride

Chapter 26 - Pride

Lucian's grin widened as he stalked closer, his golden hair shimmering faintly under the flickering streetlight. I clenched my staff tighter, but the alcohol muddled my senses, slowing my reaction. His presence felt suffocating, pressing against my skin like ice.

"Oh, don't look so tense, Thalia." His voice was silk and venom, warm yet lethal. "I'm not here to fight."

My breath hitched, fury and dread tangled into one volatile knot. "What... what do you want?" My words slurred just slightly, making me curse inwardly.

Lucian's smile didn't falter. "Just a friendly chat. It's been too long, hasn't it?" He circled slowly, like a predator savoring the moment before the kill. "After all, you've been so busy—killing my brothers and sisters, wrecking all our plans." His eyes gleamed. "Quite impressive, really."

I glared at him, my knuckles white against my staff. "I'll kill you too."

He chuckled, low and mocking. "Oh, darling. Such fire." He paused, fingers lightly tracing the cleave mark on his shoulder—deep and jagged, as if made by something impossibly sharp. My stomach twisted in recognition. That wound was fresh.

Roderick.

He noticed my gaze and laughed again. "Ah... your dear brother." His voice dipped into mock affection. "He's stronger than I expected, really. Gave me this lovely souvenir." He tapped the wound lightly, wincing in mock pain. "I underestimated him... won't happen again."

Rage boiled in my chest, searing through the alcohol's haze. "If you've touched him—if you've done anything—"

Lucian raised a hand, silencing me with infuriating ease. "Relax, little mage. If I wanted him dead, he'd be gone already." His tone darkened, venom dripping from every syllable. "But what would be the fun in that?"

I took a shaky step forward, heat pulsing in my fingertips. "You're going to regret—"

"Regret?" Lucian interrupted smoothly, tilting his head. "Oh, Thalia... I think you're the one drowning in regret." His golden eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "You let a demon into the King's palace. You trusted him. Fought beside him. Believed him."

My breath caught, memories of Sylvor's smirking face flashing behind my eyes.

"You're a fool, Thalia." His voice dropped into something colder, sharper. "Everyone sees it. You're reckless. Naive." He took another step closer, his breath cold against my face. "And worst of all... you're alone."

The weight of his words crushed down on me like stone. My chest burned, but not from fear—from sheer, unrelenting rage.

I lifted my chin, forcing steel into my voice. "And that's enough."

For the briefest moment, I saw it—offense flashing across his perfect, sneering face. A crack in his mask.

My mind snapped into sharp clarity, as if the drunken haze burned away in the heat of my anger. Lucian... the Demon of Pride. His entire existence was built on one thing—his towering, unshakable ego. His deepest wound wasn't one my staff or magic could deliver—it was the collapse of his pride.

I let out a slow, measured breath, feigning indifference. "Honestly... I've started to forget about you." My voice turned icy and dismissive. "You've become... irrelevant."

His eyes flickered, molten gold burning with sudden intensity. A slow rage coiled beneath his composed facade.

Good.

I twisted the blade deeper. "It's your big brother I think about these days. Astoroth." His expression tightened ever so slightly, like a bowstring being drawn to its limit. "He's just... stronger. More impactful. More... threatening."

"Shut up," he hissed, voice trembling with restrained fury.

I smiled. "Don't take it personally... You just don't matter as much as he does."

"Shut up, you stupid girl!" His voice exploded with venom, his golden eyes flaring with wrath. He took a step closer, radiating barely-contained violence. "I'M LUCIAN!"

"And?" I shrugged, casual, dismissive. My fingers brushed the length of my staff as I subtly shifted my stance, mana gathering at my fingertips. "Astoroth overshadows you without even trying. Face it—you'll always be second-best."

His features twisted in a mask of pure hatred, his breath coming in ragged, enraged gasps.

My voice turned cold, sharp as a blade. "You're not even that great of a fighter, either."

His snarl echoed through the narrow alley, the air around him trembling with deadly energy. But I was ready now—clear, focused, deadly. He'd come at me soon, and when he did...

I'd make him regret every word he ever said.

His form shimmered, distorting for a moment, crackling with dark energy as his pride reeled under the assault. Good. Pride demons hate being diminished—he hated being diminished.

Lucian hissed through gritted teeth, "Do you think you matter, Thalia? You're just a mortal with limited power. A speck." He sneered, but I could see the cracks widening. His voice sharpened like a blade: "I could end you right here."

"Then do it." I raised my staff, magic coiling like a living thing in my veins. "But you won't, will you? Because you can't risk losing—not to me."

For the first time, he took a step back.

And I smiled wider.

"You heard me," I continued, lifting my chin, daring him to react. "You didn't even trigger the spell I placed on Hollowbrook—my home." I tapped my staff against the ground, letting a faint pulse of mana hum through the narrow alley. "If someone with a greater magical presence than mine enters the village... I'd know instantly. I'd be there."

His lips twitched into a snarl, nostrils flaring.

"You were there," I pressed, my voice steady. "And my brother—" I let my eyes drift pointedly to the faint cleave mark on his shoulder. "—marked you. But you never triggered the spell." I shrugged, letting the weight of my words settle like stones.

"Heck, I'm sure. If you didn't run away, my big brother should be able to kill you easily. I apologize to you, I overestimated you."

His body trembled with barely contained fury, claws twitching at his sides.

"You're weak," I finished, softly but with venom that could corrode steel.

Lucian exploded.

With a screech of pure, wounded pride, he lunged, a blur of molten gold and black smoke. His claws slashed through the air, aiming for my throat—but I was already moving. A flick of my wrist conjured a shimmering barrier just in time; his claws raked across it, sending sparks flying. The force of his strike drove me back several steps, but I held firm.

"You will regret those words, mortal!" he spat, his voice warped with rage. With another swipe, he shattered the barrier like glass, sending shards of magical energy scattering into the dark alley.

I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding his next attack. My fingers traced a quick rune in the air, summoning a barrage of crackling mana bolts that streaked toward him. He twisted his body with unnatural grace, evading two—but the third struck his chest, sending him skidding back with a growl of frustration.

The air thickened with malevolent energy as Lucian's body distorted, splitting into flickering afterimages until there were ten of him, each hovering effortlessly above the ground. They surrounded me in a loose, shifting circle, their eyes gleaming with infernal light, identical cruel smirks etched across their faces.

"Outnumbered already?" they mocked in perfect unison, their voices intertwining like a discordant symphony. "This is where you break, little mage."

I clenched my jaw, tightening my grip on my staff. My mind raced—this wasn't an illusion. Each of these things radiated a distinct magical signature, as potent as the original. Real, deadly copies.

Think, Thalia.

I reached inward, pulling at the depths of my mana, fingers weaving another protective ward. A translucent shield shimmered into place—but I knew it wouldn't last long. My last one barely held against one of his attacks. Now there were ten.

A sudden rush of black energy tore through the air from the left—one of Lucian's copies hurled a seething orb of dark magic. I pivoted, barely managing to twist my shield toward the blast. The impact cracked the barrier, sending searing vibrations up my arms. Before I could even regain balance, another orb came from behind.

Too fast.

I dropped low, the blast grazing my shoulder. Thankfully, my shield is still on, even after getting drunk. Guess all that controlling my mana worth it. Two more Lucians shot forward like specters, closing the distance in a blink.

"Is this it?" one hissed, dark energy crackling around his outstretched hand. "The mage destined to kill us all?"

I slammed my staff into the ground, channeling raw mana through its core. A shockwave of arcane force blasted outward, scattering the closest duplicates like leaves in the wind. Two vanished into dark mist—but eight still remained.

But then I remembered—Pride.

Lucian's biggest flaw wasn't his power. It was him. His need to overwhelm, to dominate, to be seen.

If I could force him into a position where he had to show off...

Lucian's faces twisted with sudden intensity, but he didn't retreat. He never would. He couldn't resist proving he was better.

"Let's see how perfect you really are," I spat, and launched the first volley.

Seven jagged ice spears materialized in the air behind me, shimmering with lethal sharpness. With a flick of my wrist, they streaked toward their targets, slicing through the narrow alley like frozen bolts of death.

Lucian's copies scattered in midair, twisting and dodging with infuriating grace. Six spears shattered against the cobblestone or pierced empty air, but the seventh struck true—crack!—impaling one copy through the chest. His form dissolved into dark vapor with a guttural snarl.

A voice above me chuckled—mocking, derisive. One of the remaining Lucians. Too cocky. He couldn't help but gloat even after losing one of himself.

But I didn't strike—not yet. I needed something bigger. Something wider.

The buildings around me were close, cramped. If I used anything too destructive, I'd level half the street—and right now, I needed cover as much as offense. I reached deep into my arsenal, searching... and found exactly what I needed.

Lucian's voice echoed from above, dripping with superiority.

"Seven left, Thalia. You're outmatched. Give up before you embarrass yourself further."

His duplicates circled me like vultures, their identical smirks taunting me. Enough.

I raised my staff, conjuring a small, flickering orb of electricity just above my head—a fragile, unassuming spark no bigger than a marble.

Lucian's laughter rose like a triumphant chorus. "That's your plan? Pathetic."

I smiled coldly.

"Setrum."

The orb detonated.

A blinding web of crackling lightning erupted from the spark, arcing outward with a feral, relentless hunger. The alley lit up like midday as the electric storm found its targets.

One Lucian screamed as the lightning bolt pierced him, reducing him to swirling smoke. The energy leapt from his disintegrating form to the next copy—crack!—tearing through him like tissue.

They fell in rapid succession, each death accompanied by a searing snap of power and a flash of incinerating light. One by one, the alley cleared as Lucian's perfect illusions were ripped apart in a cascade of thunder and fury.

Five… four… three…

Until only one remained.

The real Lucian caught the final arc of lightning midair with a swipe of his hand, clutching it like a live serpent. Sparks hissed and spat, but he held firm, forcing the deadly energy to bend beneath his will. His twisted smile returned, full of dark amusement.

"Good try, Thalia," he purred, his voice venom-slick. "But not good enough."

The writhing lightning turned in his grasp, shifting from searing gold to midnight black, corrupted by his magic.

The dark current coiled like a viper, slithering its way back up the energy tether toward the tiny orb still floating above me—my creation—now turned against me.

Lucian's eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Goodbye, Thalia."

"No," I said, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart.

With a swift motion, I touched the tiny, crackling orb above my head with the tip of my staff. Power surged through the connection, and I felt the elemental shift take hold.

"Goodbye, Lucian."

The orb flared with blinding intensity as its magic twisted from searing electricity to infernal fire. Flames exploded outward, racing down the line of Lucian's corrupted midnight magic, consuming the darkness like dry parchment in a blaze.

Lucian's eyes widened in panic as the fiery magic reached him. The coiling fire lashed around his arms, chest, and legs, burning through his twisted armor and searing his flesh. The acrid stench of burning skin filled the narrow alley.

He twisted and writhed, clawing at the blazing coils that bound him, but the fire held fast, tightening its fiery grip like a serpent savoring its prey. His voice rose in a wretched scream.

"I thought you'd be used to fire," I said, barely able to hide the satisfaction curling my lips. "Seeing as you come from hell and all."

His body shuddered in agony as the fire squeezed tighter, burning deep into his corrupted essence. His mouth twisted into a snarl of rage and desperation.

"I'm Lucian! The Pride Demon! You are nothing but a mortal!"

"Yes," I said softly. "But I'm the mortal who will kill you."

With a flick of my wrist, the fiery coils twisted, shaping into a burning serpent of molten flame. Its immense, glowing body coiled around Lucian, lifting him higher into the night sky.

The serpent reared back, its massive head looming above him, its molten fangs gleaming with destructive intent. Lucian dangled helplessly, flames licking at his scorched body, his twisted face frozen between fury and terror.

"Any last words, Lucian?" I asked, my voice cold and deliberate.

For a moment, he could only scream—raw, guttural, inhuman—writhing in the serpent's unyielding grip.

I felt relief. True, pure relief. This was the end of the nightmare. No more sleepless nights fearing for my family. No more living under the shadow of his threats. He would burn tonight, reduced to ash and memory.

With a slow, satisfied smile, I flicked my fingers.

The fire serpent struck.

Its burning maw crashed down, engulfing Lucian's head in a flash of searing light. His screams cut off in an instant. With a violent twist, the serpent ripped his head clean from his body, leaving only smoldering ash in its wake.

His decapitated form hung for a moment before crumbling, dissolving into dark cinders that scattered into the cold night wind.

Lucian was gone. Burned. Erased.

I spun around at the faint sound of movement behind me, staff raised and magic crackling at its tip, ready to incinerate whatever came next. My breath hitched—another attack?

But instead of Lucian, I saw familiar faces stepping cautiously into the charred remains of the alley.

Rowan. Sir Cedric. Susan.

They looked stunned, their eyes widening as they took in the scorched ground, the lingering scent of sulfur, and the fading embers still crackling around me.

Sir Cedric's gaze locked on mine, his brows furrowing with something between awe and disbelief. "Did you just kill... a demon? By yourself?"

Susan smirked knowingly but said nothing. Rowan, ever the steady presence, nudged Sir Cedric's arm with a faint grin.

"Told ya," he said. "She's one heck of a mage."

I waved them off, still riding the fading high of battle. "It was just Lucian. He's not exactly a powerhouse." I tried to sound nonchalant, but my voice trembled slightly from the lingering adrenaline. "My spell didn't even trigger when he invaded my home... but anyway—what are you guys doing here?"

Susan spoke up, her tone light. "We were looking for you everywhere. The King said yes. Rowan convinced him."

My head tilted. The King... said yes?

Rowan shrugged like it was nothing. "Didn't want to face the strongest army in the world with Sihir. Going to be really unbearable."

Before I could respond, Sir Cedric stepped forward, his expression shifting into something resolute—serious.

Then—he knelt.

My breath caught, and I cast a confused glance at Susan, who simply smiled as if she'd expected this all along.

Under the soft silver light of the moon, Sir Cedric bowed his head for a brief second before looking up, his brown eyes meeting mine with a sincerity that pierced through my battered, guarded soul. His face, weathered but strong, looked ...hot.

I swallowed hard. Focus.

His voice was steady, resolute. "Would you... be my reinforcement in the coming battle against Astoroth?" His gaze didn't waver, holding mine with earnest intensity. "The kingdom needs you."

Something about the way he said it—the kingdom needs you—sent a strange warmth through my chest. A pull. A purpose.

For the first time in years, I felt the soft flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

To be continued...