lina's voice drifted softly in Lucian's ear, taut with warning.
"Take heed… that is the Frenzied Fla. A force not ant for mortal hands, but chaos incarnate—devouring all life, all will. Let it graze you not, not even once."
Lucian could hear the weight in her words.
He knew exactly how dangerous the Frenzied Fla was. The last thing he wanted was to lose control and spiral into madness. If he was going to survive this fight, he had to be careful—extrely careful.
The group approaching now… they bore the signs of Frenzied Fla's corruption. Their erratic movents, the twitching of their limbs, the madness in their eyes. He recognized it.
They must have co down from the deranged village nestled higher up the mountain—ho to the afflicted. With them ca swarms of oversized rats, yellow-eyed and frothing at the mouth.
Then ca a noise—an unsettling fluttering above.
Lucian looked up. Several Winged Misbegotten flew overhead, their grotesque hybrid bodies silhouetted against the dark sky.
He frowned. That made things more complicated.
This wasn't just a random encounter. This was deliberate. These enemies were infused with the madness of Frenzied Fla. A serious threat. Much greater than the usual rabble.
And Lucian wasn't naïve enough to believe he could take a few hits and walk away. This wasn't a ga. One touch from that fire might be enough to crack his mind.
Ideally, he would mount Torrent and whittle away at the enemy's numbers with speed and precision, staying out of reach.
But Irina made that impossible.
A mounted battle was too dangerous while she rode behind him. He couldn't defend her and fight at full strength. One mistake, and she could be seriously hurt.
And he knew the Winged Misbegotten could shoot arrows from the sky. The rats, too, were small and fast—perfect for sneaking past him.
Leaving Irina sowhere safe while he fought? Not an option. They would just go around him and attack her.
No… just like before, he had only one choice: let Torrent carry Irina to safety, while he faced the madness alone.
He smirked. The enemy had planned this well. They'd anticipated his compassion, predicted that he would give up his steed to protect her. They had done everything to strip away his mobility—his advantage.
But so what?
He raised the whistle to his lips and blew.
Torrent ca galloping to his side.
The sound stirred Irina from her uneasy sleep. She awoke with a jolt, but cald as she realized she was nestled against a strong, steady chest. That familiar presence.
"Sorry," Lucian murmured, adjusting her in his arms. "Didn't an to wake you. It'll be over soon."
"It is all right, Sir Lucian. Do not trouble yourself on my behalf—just… please, do be careful."
He nodded. "Just stay on the horse, like last ti. I'll handle the rest."
She gave a small, trusting nod, letting him lift her gently into the saddle. But as his hands pulled away, she found herself missing his warmth.
In truth, his armor was cold and hard. There was no comfort in tal. But the man beneath it—that was what made her feel safe. Like a hero from a story, he had co to her rescue. And now he continued to fight for her.
She hadn't felt peace like this in a long, long ti.
Then, guilt crept in.
She was a burden. He had to look after her constantly. Worse, she had selfishly dragged him into a mission that wasn't his. And he might get hurt because of it.
She couldn't let herself think about that.
From the grace, Lucian retrieved the Lordsworn's Greatsword. Heavy in one hand, but perfect in two.
It was the only colossal sword he had right now. He hadn't chosen it for finesse. He'd chosen it for power.
He wasn't going to waste ti with drawn-out combat. Every swing needed to count.
He didn't bring a shield.
Against Frenzied Fla, even a shield wouldn't help. Madness didn't care about tal or tactics.
This fight would be simple.
No damage... or death.
Arrows whistled down from above.
Lucian tilted his body just enough to avoid them. The Misbegotten's aim was sloppy. Most of the arrows didn't even co close. Good. That gave him so breathing room.
The enemy erged from the tree line.
He counted them quickly: five Winged Misbegotten. Eight, maybe nine Frenzied Villagers. A swarm of rats—more than a dozen of them, all infected with madness. One was enormous, easily taller than a man.
They weren't on him yet.
He could thin them out.
One of the Winged Misbegotten dove at him, claws outstretched.
He t it mid-air with a cleaving strike.
The blade sank deep, carving a diagonal line from its shoulder to its side. Its scream was shrill and animalistic.
Lucian lifted the sword, dragging the body up with it—still skewered on the blade.
Their eyes t.
Even in agony, the Misbegotten glared at him with a snarl.
Lucian smiled. A wild, bloodthirsty grin.
Like a beast baring its fangs.
He reached up with his left hand and gripped its skull.
Then—rip.
The sword swept sideways, tearing the creature apart. Only its head and one dangling arm remained in his grasp. Blood rained down in sheets.
The thing gurgled once… then was still.
He let the pieces fall to the dirt and turned his gaze skyward.
The others hesitated. They'd seen what he just did.
Lucian pulled a set of Kukri from his pouch—loot from a long-forgotten corpse.
Four left. Just enough.
He threw them one by one with practiced motion.
Two hit their mark, sinking into flesh. The creatures faltered mid-flight, wings flailing.
One barely dodged.
The last was unlucky—it took a blade straight to the wing and tumbled from the sky, crashing in front of Lucian.
It scrambled, trying to crawl away, panic in every movent.
Lucian pinned it down with his foot, lifted his greatsword high, and split it clean down the middle from belly to shoulder.
It didn't die right away.
It howled, its insides pouring out into the soil, body twitching violently.
Lucian didn't spare it another glance.
The rats were coming.
Dozens of them, eyes gleaming gold, screeching like demons.
He t them head-on.
Every swing of the greatsword was death. So were sliced clean in half. Others were thrown yards away like rag dolls.
One got too close.
Crack. He stomped it flat, its skull bursting like a lon.
But they just kept coming.
Eight. Nine. Ten down.
Still more.
The massive rat shrieked, coordinating the swarm with eerie intelligence. It directed the others to flank and surround him.
Then ca a scream.
"Ahh—AAAH!"
One of the Frenzied Villagers raised their arms, and a blast of Frenzied Fla erupted from their eyes—a wild cone of yellow fire arcing toward him.
Lucian didn't retreat.
He charged.
The fla seared past his head, close enough to feel the heat. But he didn't flinch.
His greatsword swept low and took the man's legs out from under him, severing them in a single stroke. The torrent of fla ended abruptly as the body crumpled.
Before it even hit the ground, Lucian's blade ca down again.
Clean decapitation.
He stood over the corpse, scanning the battlefield.
More enemies closing in.
He tried to find fear inside himself.
He knew one wrong move could an madness—or worse.
But all he felt… was exhilaration.
He grinned like a wolf before the kill.
"So this is what this place does to you," he whispered to himself.
"This land of madness…"
"The beast inside …"
"…is waking up."
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