[Third Person's PoV]
"Hey, genius. I think you forgot a small detail if you're trying to intimidate me with your fire," BlackHeart said with a snarling grin.
His black hair lifted slightly, wavering in the heat before steam began to rise from his body. Then, in an instant, he combusted into beautiful, black flames. Even parts of his hair transformed into fire, and his red eyes burned with fierce defiance.
He looked like an infernal demon, as if he had crawled straight from the depths of hell, glowing with a dark radiance.
As their flames clashed, the surrounding heat became almost unbearable.
Lucian threw his head back and laughed heartily, his voice ringing with amusement. BlackHeart mirrored him, laughing in the same manner. Both of them looked up as they belly-laughed—
Then, suddenly, BlackHeart's expression shifted to panic. He instinctively crossed his arms in front of him.
Lucian's golden-white fist came flying in a devastating uppercut, twisting as it connected. The sheer force lifted BlackHeart off the ground. But before he could be launched away, Lucian pivoted, seized him mid-air, and slammed him toward the ground. His golden flames, now turning nearly white, roared around him as he increased their intensity.
BlackHeart hit the polished ground with such force that cracks splintered outward like a spiderweb. The surface shattered like fragile glass, and he was driven deep into the impact crater. His cheeks puffed up—then he vomited blood. But the heat was so intense that the blood evaporated the moment it surfaced, turning into a crimson haze.
Lucian lifted his fist, watching as the remnants of blood burned off his skin. His cold gaze locked onto BlackHeart's battered form.
"That was your Second Sin," he said icily.
"You dare compare your cursed flames to the Sacred Fire of the Sun? And in front of me, no less?" Lucian scoffed. "It was so pitiful, I couldn't help but laugh."
BlackHeart's body trembled—whether from pain or battle hunger, no one could tell. But a wide, bloodthirsty grin remained plastered on his face, his blood-stained teeth bared in defiance.
Suddenly, multiple magic circles materialized around Lucian, glowing with ominous energy as BlackHeart's aura flared. Despite this, Lucian's expression remained indifferent.
Cursed weapons—swords, spears, polearms, daggers, axes—burst from the magic circles like rockets, all radiating dark energy as they honed in on him. Yet, Lucian merely tilted his body, effortlessly weaving through the onslaught.
He danced through the barrage of cursed blades with almost lazy precision.
BlackHeart, still kneeling, glanced down at his trembling hands, where fragmented bone pierced through torn skin, bleeding profusely. He grimaced.
'Even with my Healing Darkness, this will take time and drain a ton of my energy…'
His thoughts were interrupted as his eyes widened.
Lucian tilted his head at the last second, allowing a two-bladed weapon to fly past his face—only to raise his hand and catch its handle with a single motion.
Landing lightly outside the range of the next wave of attacks, Lucian examined the weapon, gripping its shaft. A slow, knowing smile crept onto his lips.
He raised the battle axe, surrounding it with both his flames and divine light, particularly along its blade, sharpening its edge with power.
Then, gripping the long handle with one hand, he lunged forward in a single step and swung.
A devastating arc of Fire and Light slashed through the air, unleashing an unfathomable shockwave. The cursed weapons shattered into countless shards, and the magic circles that summoned them collapsed.
A long groove was carved into the battlefield where the attack had landed.
BlackHeart stared in disbelief.
A single red line appeared down his face and extended through his entire body.
Then—his form split in two.
Both halves fell in opposite directions, spilling his innards before dissipating into a swirling purple haze.
Lucian exhaled, watching the remnants of his foe vanish.
"And that's why an imitation could never contend with the original," he muttered, gripping his axe. But then, cracks formed along its surface before it crumbled into dust, the remains carried away by the wind.
He frowned. "No weapon can match my power… How vexing."
Turning, he faced Hecate. "Make more."
She blinked. "What?"
"Make more cheap imitations. If they lack my might, perhaps they will make up for it in numbers… or at least, they can try."
Hecate crossed her arms. "Lucian… I'm supposed to be helping you rein in that arrogance. But it seems I'm only making it worse. Your hubris is growing."
Lucian's golden eyes glowed. "Hubris? Arrogance?" He let out a short laugh. "Tell me, is it truly arrogance if I can back up my words with strength?"
He took a step forward, his presence suffocating.
"The weak can't back up their words. That is arrogance. But for those who can? That is called Pride."
His voice was calm but filled with absolute certainty.
"I take Pride in my words because they are backed by my actions. I take Pride in being chosen by the Sun. I take Pride in my strength—unmatched, ever-growing.
I take Pride in my limitless potential. And if my potential is limitless, then my Pride, too, shall be limitless."
His gaze bore into hers. "You tell me to reign it in. To suppress my so-called arrogance. My Pride. But tell me—why should I?"
His voice dropped to a whisper, but it carried the weight of a king's decree.
"If I do not take Pride in myself, in the blood and sweat that brought me here… then who will?"
Lucian tilted his head inquisitively. "Perhaps you will? Or maybe those around me?"
"No. Pride is something one must realize for themselves. It can be hurt, battered, antagonized—but it cannot be given, nor can it be taken away. Pride is self-realization, an unshakable truth no one can strip from you. And I have many things in my life to be proud of… yet you seek to take that from me?"
Lucian chuckled as he looked at Hecate. "I wish you luck in your fruitless endeavor."
He then smirked, his voice laced with amusement. "Now, are you going to summon more of your cheap copies, or are you so entranced by the sound of my voice that you wish to hear me speak a little longer? Just so you know, we don't have all day."
Hecate sighed, frowning. "Why the hell do you suddenly become so philosophical when you're in that form? Sometimes, I find your thought process fascinating. Other times, it's absolutely infuriating… But very well, you're right—we don't have all day."
With a snap of her fingers, the mist around her surged, darkening and growing more corporeal. The cratered, cracked ground began to mend itself, and from the swirling purple fog, multiple figures took shape—each identical to Lucian, down to the last detail, except for their eerie, playfully arrogant smirks.
"I've increased their power slightly," Hecate scoffed. "They should give you more of a challenge."
Lucian nodded. "You have my gratitude."
Hecate raised an eyebrow. "You know how to say thanks? I thought your arrogance—oops, I mean your Pride—would prevent you from such a thing."
Lucian met her gaze with a serious expression. "Pride does not mean I cannot show gratitude. True Pride does not hinder one from expressing basic human decency. I appreciate your training, and so I acknowledge it without shame."
Hecate blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then, shaking her head in amusement, she replied, "You're very welcome… Are you ready?"
Lucian stretched out his hand to the side. The surrounding purple fog stirred and flowed toward his palm, condensing and reshaping itself. Within seconds, a battle axe of pure violet energy materialized in his grip. He swung it once, testing its weight with effortless ease, then nodded in satisfaction.
"This will do for now…"
His golden aura erupted like a volcano, waves of searing energy radiating from his body. He raised his axe, eyes gleaming with fiery determination.
"Come," he commanded. "Become the fertilizer that help my growth."
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