The world inverted.
Lucien fell through the estate like a dagger through rotting fruit—past wine cellars where bottles pulsed with black liquid, through servant quarters frozen in mid-scream, down into foundations where stones bled ichor.
His silver mask-eyes burned as he tumbled into the Maw's chamber.
He should have shattered on impact.
Instead, he landed in a crouch—his hollowed-out muscles moving with alien precision. Before him stretched a cathedral of living flesh: rib-like arches pulsed above, the floor undulated like a sleeping beast's flank, and at the center—
Kael sat upon a throne of screaming faces.
"Lesson two," he said, fingers steepled. "How to properly wield what's been taken from you."
First Exchange: Silver vs. Void
Lucien moved before he could think.
[Martial Arts Mastery] surged—his spine straightened, hands formed the Crane's Beak strike. Unlimited mana roared through corrupted channels.
Kael didn't rise.
A flick of his wrist.
Black threads erupted from the floor, humming with anti-mana. Lucien's Skill Analyzation flared:
[Void Bindings]
• Composition: 78% corrupted saint-bone
• Weakness: Requires anchor points
Lucien twisted mid-air. Silver flames erupted from his palms, severing three threads—
The fourth wrapped around his ankle and yanked.
The floor met his face like a hammer.
Second Exchange: The Apostle Interrupts
Wax dripped from above.
Orlan reformed mid-fall—a molten marionette of burning eyes and slurred scripture. The third eye in his chest pulsed—
—and the chamber sang.
[Hymn of Unmaking] screamed through the air in waves. Where they passed, stone melted.
Lucien rolled, barely dodging a note that scorched the hair from his scalp.
His mask-eyes pulsed:
[Frequency Disruption]
Lucien clapped his palms together.
Silver mana detonated outward in a concussive burst, shattering the hymn's waveform. The backlash staggered Orlan.
Kael applauded, slow and steady.
Third Exchange: Throne Room Blitz
Lucien dashed forward.
[Enhanced Musculature] overloaded his body—mana-fed tendons howled as he blurred across the chamber.
First strike: A Crane's Beak aimed at Orlan's central eye. The apostle twisted, losing a chunk of shoulder.
Second strike: A spinning kick wreathed in silver fire. Kael's threads snapped like brittle bone.
Third—
Kael caught his fist.
"Predictable."
The crown pulsed.
The throne shrieked.
Final Exchange: The Hollowing
The blast launched Lucien across the chamber.
He crashed through three arches of pulsing flesh and skidded to a stop. Blood—thick and black—poured from his ears.
Mask-eyes flickered with damage reports:
[Right Arm: Fractured]
[Ribcage: 43% Compromised]
[Mana Channels: Overload Imminent]
Across the room, Orlan reformed again.
Kael rose.
His shadow stretched unnaturally across the organic stone.
Lucien stood. His body moved without consent.
Silver fire condensed into a blade-shaped mass—unstable, volatile.
A suicide technique.
Kael sighed.
"Still missing the point."
He snapped his fingers.
The Maw woke.
Final Line
Some weapons aren't meant to be held.
They're meant to be unleashed.