The world felt distant when Lucas awoke. His body was heavy, each breath laboured as if he’d been broken and only barely reassembled. Pain radiated through every fibere of him, but nothing was more excruciating than the confusion in his mind. His vision wavered, colors blending, then slowly sharpened on Marona’s face looming above him. Her expression was tight, eyes swollen with the weight of grief.

sleep [https://i.imgur.com/wwiGUO8.jpeg]

“You’re awake,” she murmured. But her voice was hollow—there was no comfort in it. “Three days, Lucas. You’ve been out for three days.”

He tried to sit up, but his muscles, still weak, screamed in protest. Memories were fragments—chaos in Almera’s labyrinth, Thoren’s spell, a sharp flash of power, then darkness. He’d been struck down, helpless. His mind screamed a single question.

“Where... are they?” His throat was raw, each word rasping like it was dragged over broken glass. He didn’t need to specify. He meant Silas and Meluis—his family, his everything.

Marona’s silence shattered him. She sat beside him, her fingers trembling as they hovered near his hand, uncertain whether to touch him or to stay away. There was a slight quiver in her voice as she answered, her gaze not meeting his.

“Lucas...” She swallowed hard, forcing the words out despite their weight. “They’re gone. Thoren... Thoren killed them.”

The world collapsed. The air thickened, suffocating him, and for a moment, everything blurred as if reality itself was unraveling. He stared at Marona, waiting for her to take the words back, to tell him it was a mistake. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“No...” Lucas’s voice cracked, the denial weak on his lips. “No, that’s... they can’t—” His mind rejected it, a futile, desperate attempt to cling to hope.

But Marona’s expression remained resolute, her voice softer now. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. I tried... but Thoren... he—”

The rest of her words were drowned by the roar in Lucas’s head. A scream clawed at his throat, but it never emerged. Instead, his fists clenched tight, his nails biting into his palms until warm blood pooled in his hands. His body convulsed with the force of grief, but no sound came out, just the endless pounding of guilt and fury in his chest.

Silas, his grandfather—the man who had raised him with endless patience and love. Meluis, his mentor—the one who had believed in his potential when no one else did. Both gone. And he had failed them. He had been powerless, weak, unworthy of the trust they’d placed in him.

“I should have stopped him.” His voice was barely audible, choked by the weight of his failure. “I should have—”

“Lucas, no.” Marona cut him off, her own voice trembling, but she pressed on. “You couldn’t have stopped him. None of us could. Thoren... he’s too strong. This wasn’t your fault.”

But her words were meaningless. They didn’t quell the storm raging within him. If anything, they fed it. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, humorless and cold. Too strong? That was the excuse. He hadn’t been strong enough.

Tears streamed down his face, unchecked. Not because he wanted them to. No, the grief was too overwhelming to be contained. His chest heaved with silent sobs, every breath a battle. But amidst the sorrow, something darker was festering. Something far more dangerous.

Rage.

It bubbled up from the deepest part of him, a raw, vicious thing, twisting his grief into hatred. Hatred for Thoren. Hatred for the Magenthore clan. And most of all, hatred for himself—for being so weak, so helpless. The fire inside him roared, fierce and consuming, threatening to burn everything in its path.

“I’ll make him pay,” Lucas whispered, his voice trembling with unbridled fury. “I’ll make them all pay.”

Marona’s gaze shifted, her expression uneasy as she watched the transformation in him. The boy she had known was gone. What sat before her now was something... darker. The light in his eyes had extinguished, replaced by a cold, seething resolve.

“I swear,” Lucas continued, his words low but fierce, more of a vow than a promise, “I’ll never be weak again. I’ll become so powerful that no one will ever take anything from me again.”

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The last thread of humanity snapped, and Marona saw it clearly in his eyes. What had once been pain and sorrow was now a void, filled with only rage and the thirst for vengeance. Lucas’s grief had consumed him, and what remained was a shadow of the person he once was, a creature shaped by loss, with darkness as his only companion.

Lucas looked at Marona, his gaze sharp despite the lingering exhaustion in his body. “I want to see them.”

Marona hesitated, her brows furrowing with concern. “Perhaps you should rest a little first. We can visit them later, when—”

“No.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “Now. I want to see them now.”

bed [https://i.imgur.com/666WlIp.jpeg]

Marona studied him for a moment, the intensity in his eyes silencing any further protest. Reluctantly, she nodded and guided him outside to the villa, where Silas and Meluis had been laid to rest. The sun was already low in the sky, casting a golden hue through the canopy of the ancient tree under which they were buried. It was the same place where Silas had once taught Lucas, where Meluis had sparred with him. Now, instead of life and laughter, there were two tombstones—silent, cold, final.

Lucas approached them slowly, his chest tightening with every step. His eyes were teary, and his heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice. The weight of their loss hung over him like the shadow of the setting sun. The air was thick, heavy with grief, and the world seemed quieter, as if mourning alongside him.

Marona stood a few paces back, watching him with worry etched across her face. She didn’t know what to say, or if anything could even be said to ease the pain.

Lucas knelt before the tombstones, the memories of Silas’s warm smile and Meluis’s encouraging words flooding his mind. His hands trembled as he placed them on the cool earth, the final resting place of the only family he had left. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he was a little boy again, standing in the shadow of giants he thought would never fall.

tomb [https://i.imgur.com/zQmGKZJ.jpeg]

“You both... were the ones who loved me unconditionally,” he whispered internally, his mind filled with the ache of their absence. “I’ll make sure your dreams and hopes live on through me. I’m so sorry...” Tears slid down his face, each one heavier than the last. “I couldn’t save you. I’m weak... pathetic...”

His fists clenched as the self-loathing gnawed at him. He wanted to scream, to tear the world apart for what it had taken from him. But he didn’t. His grief was sharp, his anger sharper still.

“But I swear... I’ll avenge you.” His internal vow was filled with a growing rage. “Not now... but one day, I’ll make the Magenthore clan wish they were never born. I’ll burn everything they stand for to ashes.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, and the golden light faded into the deepening twilight. Lucas remained at the gravesite, unmoving, his thoughts a whirlwind of sorrow and fury. The hours passed, the world around him shifting from day to night, yet he stayed, letting his emotions fester, harden, until there was nothing left but a cold, burning resolve.

When at last he stood, it wasn’t the same boy who had knelt before the graves. His grief had settled deep within him, but so had something darker—an unrelenting determination. His eyes, once filled with tears, now held only fire. He had made a promise, and Lucas never broke his promises.

He turned to Marona, who had been silently watching him. She had expected to see a broken boy, someone devastated and lost in his pain. But what stood before her now wasn’t weak. It wasn’t sad. What she saw in his eyes made her shiver—a smouldering, quiet rage. A fury tempered by calculation. This was no longer the boy she had known.

This was someone who had seen too much, who had lost everything, and now knew that no one would swoop in to save him. He would have to carve his own path, rise from the ashes of his grief, and claim the power he needed to make the world kneel before him.

Lucas approached Marona, his eyes still reflecting the determination he had found at the gravesite.

"You alright, kid?" Marona asked, her tone softer than usual.

Lucas nodded. "Yeah."

Marona hesitated for a moment, then said, "What do you plan to do now? If you want, you can work for me. I’ll make sure you have a good life here."

Lucas paused, considering her offer, but then replied firmly, "I want to go to Felmora Magic Academy. I need to learn more, get stronger."

Marona raised an eyebrow, surprised. She had expected Lucas to seek immediate revenge against the Magenthore clan, but this was unexpected. "You know most kids who enter the academy are around ten, right? Only prodigies go early and they usually have powerful families backing them."

"I’m sure," Lucas said, his voice steady.

Marona sighed, clearly worried. "Alright, but you’ll have to wait a year. The next Magus apprentice selection in neighbouring kingdom Almeria is in twelve months. To even participate, you’ll need approval from the Felmora Magic Branch here. And, well..." she hesitated, "there are complications with the royal family when it comes to that approval. But I can handle it."

Lucas didn’t like the idea of waiting a year, but he knew it couldn’t be helped. After a moment of thought, he nodded. "Fine, I’ll wait."

Marona added, "And you’ll need mana stones. Without any backing, that’ll be hard to manage. I have a proposal—help me stabilize my control over the black market this year, and I’ll make sure you have what you need."

Lucas narrowed his eyes, instantly wary. He knew nothing came without strings attached. "I’ll help you," he said slowly, "but as an ally, not as a servant."

Marona’s eyes glinted with something like approval. She hadn’t expected such a mature response. "Fair enough," she said with a slight smile. "Next week, there’s a round table meeting with the other black market leaders. You’ll come with me."

Lucas knew he was stepping into dangerous territory. But he had no choice—he was all alone against the world now, and every move had to count.