Lucius: Embers of The Abyss

The air in the Secluded Hollow was thinner than usual.

Lucius sat cross-legged within the stone basin, his breath slow, deliberate, tinged with faint embers. Around him, concentric circles of Twilight Qi spiraled and collapsed, drawn into his body only to be cast out again in tightly coiled shockwaves. The basin was etched with runes of flame and void—left by generations long dead—and now, it bore the pressure of something unprecedented.

Lucius's cultivation had reached a bottleneck.

He knew it the moment his Qi ceased to churn violently. It had quieted instead—become still, deep, and unmoving. But stillness was not peace. It was weight. It was the pressure of a realm not yet entered, a gate not yet broken.

And it refused to yield.

He inhaled once more. The world turned dark.

Then he plunged back into the Twilight Sea—his inner world.

---

Within the Twilight Sea

It was endless. Drenched in violet haze, starlit echoes, and whirlpools of molten qi. Lucius drifted like a shadow, stripped of form, yet aware of every drop in this unfathomable ocean. The core of his being—a black sun—hung suspended before him. It pulsed with radiant fire and shade, flickering in silent tension.

This was the foundation he had forged through pain and mastery. The culmination of breathwork, control, and constant healing from wounds older than his years.

But now... he had to compress it further. To collapse the sea into a singularity. A core fit for the First Rate Realm.

"Devour or die."

The voice rang again—ancient and echoing from the black sun itself. It was not Klaigos, nor the Abyssal Fang. It was something older. Something within his blood.

Lucius stepped forward, his will forming into a blade of light and a blade of dark—mirroring the eventual destiny of his martial path.

"Neither," he answered. "I will become more than both."

He struck the core.

---

Reality – Secluded Hollow, Ember Vault Depths

Lightning exploded from Lucius's body.

Qi surged into the earth, splitting the stone basin and lighting the walls with jagged streaks of amethyst fire. From the ceiling, forgotten chains trembled—ones left from the time of the Flame Seers. The dormant Ember Wards flared into activity.

And yet, Lucius remained still. He bled from his nose, his left eye ruptured slightly, and veins along his neck swelled and darkened—but he did not scream.

Instead, he clenched his fists and forced his body to accept the backlash. Forcing his Twilight Core to reform.

Nearby, a voice emerged from the dark.

"…Stubborn little ghost."

A figure watched from the edge of the chamber. A woman, no older than sixteen, robed in grey flameweave. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow, yet her presence didn't disrupt the Qi around her. She was an apparition—perhaps a spiritual echo.

Or a test.

Lucius opened one eye. "Another trial?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped into the basin, unbothered by the lashing winds of Qi.

"You formed your foundation too quickly," she said, crouching before him. "Even the Heaven Destroyer took six years. You did it in one. You'll break apart if you push now."

"Then I'll break," Lucius said through clenched teeth. "And forge myself again."

Her expression didn't change. "You sound like Klaigos."

Lucius blinked. "…You knew him?"

"I was his rival. Once."

Her form shimmered, and Lucius saw it: a distant memory. She once wore silver armor and wielded blades of crystal. Her eyes were not hollow then—they burned like the morning star.

"I am called Velhya of the Pale Star," she whispered. "And I will be your opponent now."

---

Battle in the Secluded Hollow

Lucius stood, bones cracking, body still trembling.

Velhya did not give him time to recover. Her palm shot forward—a perfect execution of Moonflow Step—and struck his shoulder, spinning him sideways. He countered with a downward sweep of raw Twilight Qi, forcing her to vanish like mist.

"She's not real," Lucius murmured. "A trial projection…"

Velhya's voice emerged from behind. "Pain is still real."

Her leg slammed into his ribs, and he tasted blood. Lucius dropped low, sending a spiral of abyssal flame in every direction. It blackened the walls, consumed the air—but touched nothing.

She reappeared above. "Still too slow."

Her blade struck his neck—and passed through it. Not to kill, but to brand.

A sigil of flame and frost seared itself across his shoulder. Lucius cried out—not in pain, but fury.

"ENOUGH!"

He exhaled the Reverse Twilight Cycle. His inner sea erupted outward, condensing into a shield, then a lance, then a dragon of violet energy.

Velhya stopped.

"That… that was not taught to you," she said. "That was created."

Lucius stepped forward. "I told you. I'll be more than both."

He thrust the energy-dragon forward, not to strike—but to merge with the core in his chest.

The moment it touched—

---

Twilight Core Breakthrough

The world shattered.

Lucius's perception expanded beyond body, flame, and thought. He saw himself not as a child, nor a cultivator, but as a star in the process of birth.

He saw the past: his mother's face, blurred by blood and memory.

He saw the future: a sky where a black sun clashed with a golden spear.

And he saw now: the Twilight Core compressing into a crystalline form, condensing every breath, strike, and scar into a foundation unlike any other.

A fusion of two destinies.

A core that sang both abyss and flame.

---

Moments Later

Lucius awoke, lying in the remains of the basin.

His body was cracked—skin flaking in places, eyes burning, voice gone hoarse. But inside? He felt light. Alive.

He had reached the First Rate Realm.

His breathing was lighter. His veins carried Qi more freely. His vision clearer—down to the trembling of particles in air.

Velhya was gone. Only a single phrase remained etched in the stone beside him:

> "You are no longer beneath the stars, Lucius Ashborne. You are becoming one."

He lay still for a moment, then whispered to himself.

"…This isn't the end."

---

Elsewhere – Hidden Council Chambers, Velzarim Cult

High Elder Darcon, shrouded in black mist, turned toward the central flame mirror. The image of Lucius's breakthrough faded into smoke.

"He's accelerated again."

The masked figure beside him nodded. "He's forming something unstable. Not a typical First Rate Core. It will not serve our purposes."

Darcon's voice curled like smoke. "No. But it may become more than a pawn. He is approaching the threshold."

A new voice joined them. "Then let the shadows meet him before he crosses it."

It was the Abyssal Crown of Flesh.

---

Lucius – Days Later

Lucius trained silently near a roaring waterfall inside the Ember Vault's deep gorge. Qi streamed around him in cycles, no longer volatile, but disciplined. Still, he did not smile.

He had broken through. But the echoes of that trial lingered.

Velhya…

He wondered if she had been real, or simply a memory placed by the Vault's ancient will. Either way, she had challenged something deeper in him—not his strength, but his resolve to define power.

He stared at his reflection in the stream. It shimmered strangely.

A moment later, he felt it.

Killing intent. Refined. Cold. Focused.

He turned.

A figure emerged—cloaked in veil-ribbons, face hidden, but aura unmistakably Transcendent Realm – Early Phase.

The assassin from the Phantom Shadow Pavilion had come.

And Lucius had only just begun to understand his new strength.

Lucius didn't move.

He remained kneeling by the stream, fingers dipped in water, heart quiet. But his mind had already entered the Second Breath State—a heightened reflex forged during Twilight Core stabilization. His body responded before his eyes confirmed the threat.

The assassin stepped forward, silent as windless dusk.

Cloth ribbons obscured the figure's form—blending shadow, mist, and flesh into something both intangible and deadly. Their killing intent was restrained—professional, not emotional. Every step screamed of one purpose.

Eliminate.

Lucius turned his head, just slightly. "You were watching me."

The assassin said nothing.

But a subtle hum rose. Qi curved in the air—an odd pattern, sharp and concentric. Lucius recognized the technique.

> Silent Cicada Thrust — Phantom Shadow Pavilion art.

It blinds spirit sense half a breath before the strike lands.

A near-invisible strike tore forward. Lucius leaned left. It grazed his shoulder and split open his robe—not his flesh. He rolled backward, drawing in his Qi like a cloak.

The assassin blinked.

"Your instincts are beyond First Rate."

Lucius stood slowly, his left palm glowing faint violet, his right closing into a silent fist.

"I've already seen your death."

Those words weren't a bluff. During his breakthrough, he had received a faint future echo—a blurry image of a pale, veiled opponent with blades like threads.

It had felt distant then.

Now it stood before him.

Lucius exhaled. "Come, then."

The assassin responded.

In a blink, they crossed the distance, shadows trailing like bleeding silk. Steel flashed—three needle-thin daggers—each aimed for the heart, throat, and liver.

Lucius's pupils dilated. His foot turned. Time slowed and slowed down.

The Fang pulsed.

The battle had begun.

[End of Chapter 29]