****
A few weeks later.
It had been a few weeks since his aunt, Arlena, had departed for the southeastern frontier, yet no word had come from her, his father, or the mysterious writer of the last letter.
The silence they were experiencing was deafening, filling every corner of the manor with unease. No letters arrived, no news broke the dull routine of waiting, and no reassurance came to soothe their worn nerves.
Lucius's mind was a constant whirlwind of worry, and his thoughts circled endlessly. 'Are they going to be okay? Is Aunt Arlena safe? What about Father? Did the demons overpower them? Are they still fighting?' Each question ate away at him, but answers were nowhere to be found.
Despite the creeping fear, Lucius refused to let it paralyze him. Instead, he threw himself into his training with renewed motivation. With his aunt gone, he had no one to guide him, yet he pressed on, determined to keep progressing.
His days became a haze of rigorous routines. With mornings spent honing his swordsmanship and martial arts, while the afternoons were devoted to his magical studies and meditation, to better his control of mana. Without Arlena's guidance, he relied on the lessons she had imparted and his own relentless determination.
In the evenings, he pushed his body further, sparring with dummies or running laps around the estate grounds. The faint glow of his mana enveloped him during meditation sessions, and his focus was sharper than ever as he attempted to strengthen his control and flow.
The absence of his tutor didn't deter him; it motivated him. "If Aunt Arlena can risk her life to save Father, the least I can do is make her proud when she returns," he thought, clenching his fists.
Each ache in his muscles and every bead of sweat felt like a step closer to proving himself, to being strong enough to help protect his family. Though doubt lingered in the back of his mind, Lucius pushed forward, with his resolve remaining unshaken.
Late one night, Lucius lay stretched out across his bed, his breathing was steady and deep as the exhaustion from the day's rigorous training claimed him. The silence of the manor covered his entire room, broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves outside his window.
But then, without warning, his eyes snapped open, and his body jolted upright in bed. His pulse quickened as an unshakable sensation washed over him.
"Something feels... off," he muttered under his breath, with his voice being barely audible in the stillness of the room.
He looked around, his eyes moving over the shadows cast by the faint moonlight coming through the curtains. The air in his room felt heavier than usual, almost stifling. There was a faint sense of unease, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
Lucius furrowed his brow, trying to pinpoint what it was. The sensation was vague yet undeniable—a disturbance, faint but persistent, gnawing at the edge of his awareness. Everything just felt... wrong.
Lucius's curiosity was at its peak as he climbed out of bed. He moved cautiously to his window, his mind still racing. The disturbance had been nagging at him for a short while now, and now his need to investigate was too strong to ignore.
As he peered out into the night, his breathing stopped. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw them—figures moving silently in the dark. They lingered near the open area of the manor grounds, the empty space between the buildings and the surrounding trees.
The space felt… wrong. Their shapes were indistinct, blending with the shadows, but they gave off a heavy, alien presence.
Lucius could feel the energy surrounding them—a strange and oppressive aura that sent a chill down his spine. His legs felt unsteady as he took a few steps back, the sound of his own breathing loud and uneven to his own ears. His heart thudded harder with every beat, and the sound filled his head like a drum.
Before he could focus his eyes on them to see what they actually looked like, fear overtook his mind. His thoughts blurred, and he could barely find the courage to study their forms. The shapes were shadowy, shifting, hard to make out in the pale glow of moonlight, and each movement they made sent another wave of panic through him.
"W...w...wwwwhhat are those?" he stammered, his voice trembling. The words barely managed to leave his lips before his chest felt tighter.
Suddenly, without warning, his awareness sharpened. A presence—distinct, undeniable—shifted right outside his door. His breathing stopped as his body tensed. His heart felt as though it would leap from his chest.
The knock came, soft but deliberate, tapping on the wooden door.
Lucius froze, his muscles refusing to move. His face was damp with sweat now, and the cold feeling of terror spread down his spine. He could hear the faint creak of the wind outside, but nothing could drown out the sound of his own thoughts.
He didn't know what to do. His mind raced with possibilities, with all the things that could be on the other side of that door. His fingers trembled against the window frame as he stared at the shadows outside, unable to move, unable to breathe.
The knocking came again, more insistent this time.
Lucius's mind raced as he trembled, unable to take his gaze away from the door as he wondered what the ominous figure outside could be.
'What on earth is going on? Who—who could that be?' he thought, fear pooling in his chest. His thoughts were in shambles as he tried to piece together the situation, but before he could think any further, the sound came—a sharp, violent creak.
The door suddenly snapped under pressure.
CRASH!
The sound came like a thunderclap, and the wooden door flew from its hinges, tumbling to the ground with a cloud of dust that filled the air. Lucius winced as the particles stung his eyes and clung to his skin and his heart pounded as the dust began to settle.
When his vision cleared, he saw a figure stepping into his room, it was a man.
His figure was imposing, and he carried an undeniable authoritative presence as he stepped into the room. His attire was the epitome of nobility from this time—an elaborately embroidered tunic of rich fabric, a high-collared cloak flowing with every step, and a poised, confident bearing that marked his status.
He looked as though he belonged in the grand halls of a castle, and his entire appearance was an image of wealth and power. He had the air of someone accustomed to command and respect, someone who could be trustworthy... but there was something about him that immediately sent warning signals to Lucius's mind.
The man began pacing toward Lucius, each step deliberate and slow, his voice smooth and chilling as he spoke:
"Come to me, boy. I'm not going to hurt you." He said with a sharp smile, full of calculated charm but unmistakably predatory.
Lucius's heart thudded harder with each step, and his hand clenched at his side as he struggled to remain calm.
Something felt off. His instincts screamed at him that this man's words were false—that this was no innocent stranger. His aura, his very presence, felt poisonous and dangerous!
Lucius took a shaky step back, and with a hoarse voice he yelled:
"Stay back!"
The man paused for a moment, his smile widening, but he continued walking toward him with unhurried steps. Lucius stumbled, his back hitting the windowpane with a slight click as the cold glass pressed into him. He couldn't go back any further, and his panic began to rise even more.
The man stopped a few feet away, studying Lucius carefully.
"Hmm, you seem to be a bright one," he mused, a cold glint in his eyes. "I guess this form won't fill you." His smile turned wicked, and the malice in his voice could be felt.
Before Lucius could react, the man charged. His movements were sudden, fast, and terrifyingly smooth as his hand came out toward Lucius. His fingers had stretched unnaturally, and his nails were now long and sharp, an inhuman twist to his otherwise noble appearance.
Lucius barely had time to react.
SLASH!
The sound came in an instant—a sharp, cutting noise as the man's hand lashed through the air, targeting Lucius with deadly precision.