Chapter 462: Knight Commander
"You have put quite a show, but everything has a location, don't you think?"
Aeliana's gaze snapped to Luca, her amber eyes narrowing in irritation.
Luca merely raised his hands in mock surrender, his lips curling into that ever-present smirk. "Come on now," he murmured, his voice smooth, teasing, as if the tension crackling between father and daughter wasn't thick enough to choke. "Don't show your fangs—you're going to scare me."
His black eyes flicked to the side, subtly signaling behind them.
Aeliana's brow twitched.
And then she saw it.
The knights.
Most of them were pretending to be occupied, hands tightening on weapons, adjusting armor, staring just a little too hard at the horizon as if the sight of endless ocean had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.
But it was obvious.
They had been listening.
Every single one of them.
Luca's smirk widened, his voice carrying an easy amusement. "See? Everything has a place. Even father and daughter quarrels."
Aeliana inhaled sharply through her nose, schooling her features into something unreadable, but the irritation remained. She had been so wrapped in the moment—so caught in the sharp edge of words exchanged—that she had forgotten where they were.
Who was watching.
Aeliana's eyes flickered back to her father.
Thaddeus did not react immediately. His golden gaze lingered on Luca for a moment—assessing, measuring, as if determining whether to be irritated by his interruption or acknowledge the truth in it.
Then, slowly, he exhaled.
A single wave of his hand.
The wind shifted.
A deep rumble swept through the ship, not violent enough to knock anyone off balance, but strong enough to make the message clear. The wood groaned under the sudden force, the sails snapped taut, and the ocean seemed to shudder in response.
The knights stiffened.
It was not an order. Not a command.
But they understood.
Silently, swiftly, the men refocused, their movements deliberate, precise, returning to their stations as if they had never been listening at all.
Luca let out a low whistle, watching the way the tension broke—not in the air, but in the behavior of the knights, the way they abandoned their pretense of disinterest and simply moved.
'And just like that, the show is over.'
But despite the way the scene dissolved, something lingered.
The Duke's mood had shifted.
It was not just that the argument had been interrupted. It was not just that they had been watched.
It was that he no longer felt like arguing.
His expression remained composed, his stance firm, but the sharpness—the weight in his tone, the storm brewing beneath his words—had dulled.
Aeliana saw it too.
And for some reason, that annoyed her more than anything else.
She had been ready for it. Ready to fight, to push, to meet him head-on.
And now?
Now, it felt unfinished.
Thaddeus turned, his cloak shifting slightly with the movement. He did not spare another glance at Luca, nor at the knights, nor at the open sea.
Only at her.
His golden eyes lingered on hers, steady, unwavering.
And then, without another word—
He walked away.
Luca watched him go, his smirk lazy, his black eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Well," he murmured, crossing his arms loosely, "that was almost exciting."
Aeliana shot him a glare.
Luca chuckled.
Then, tilting his head slightly, he sighed. "Tch. You're still glaring at me. What, did I ruin the moment?"
Aeliana exhaled sharply. "You talk too much."
Luca grinned. "And you argue too much."
Aeliana's glare darkened as she stepped toward him, her movements slow, deliberate.
Lucavion, however, remained exactly where he was.
Unmoved. Unbothered.
His smirk never wavered, his black eyes gleaming with that same insufferable amusement.
Aeliana stopped just before him, tilting her chin up slightly as her amber gaze burned into his.
"Do you think this place is somewhere you can act as you please?"
Lucavion blinked, tilting his head. "Hmm? What do you mean?"
Aeliana's expression sharpened, her voice dropping just slightly—just enough for only him to hear.
"Now, you are speaking to the heiress of the Thaddeus Duchy before her knights," she murmured, her tone like the edge of a blade. "With just a single order of mine, your head can be cut off."
Silence stretched between them.
And then—
Lucavion's smile widened.
Not in mockery. Not in fear.
But in genuine delight.
"So what?" he mused, exhaling softly. "Didn't I tell you before?"
He lifted a hand, pointing directly at her, his black eyes locking onto hers with something far deeper than amusement.
"How can I call myself brave and strong if I'm afraid of something just because it's different?"
Aeliana stilled.
Because she had heard those exact words before.
"I, Lucavion, am scared of nothing."
Not long ago.
Not in this cavern.
But in the depths of despair.
When she had first shown him her marks.
Her cursed, wretched skin—the twisted scars of her illness that had made even the most hardened nobles recoil.
She had expected disgust.
She had prepared for it.
And yet—
At that time, Lucavion had simply looked at her. Unflinching. Unshaken. And then, with the same confidence, he had said it.
The exact same words.
Aeliana's breath hitched slightly.
Come to think of it—he had already revealed his name then.
She had been too consumed, too lost in the moment to process it at the time.
But now, as the memory resurfaced—
She realized.
Even then, he hadn't lied.
Lucavion had always been exactly who he said he was.
Her fingers twitched at her side.
"Really?" Aeliana muttered, her amber eyes searching his face, looking for something—anything—that might hint at falsehood, at pretense, at some reason behind his words.
Lucavion didn't hesitate.
"Indeed," he said simply.
His voice was calm. Steady.
Too steady.
"To me, you have never been the Duke's daughter." He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the very notion. "You were just the Little Ember who argued with me. And this is still the same."
Aeliana stared.
For a long second, she said nothing.
"…You're serious," she finally murmured.
Lucavion's black eyes gleamed. "I don't lie."
And—he didn't.
Aeliana realized it then.
Right now—
He wasn't guarded.
He wasn't calculating his words, wasn't carefully choosing them to manipulate her like so many others had done before.
Right now, if it had been anyone else, they would have already been groveling—acting respectfully, trying to gain her favor, trying to lick her boots for the slightest chance at power, at influence, at something.
But Lucavion?
He did not.
Maybe—maybe—he had something to gain by acting this way.
Maybe he didn't.
But—
It didn't matter.
It just—didn't.
Aeliana clicked her tongue.
"Tch..."
She didn't understand him.
She just couldn't.
What the hell was going through his head?
What was he talking about?
He just—
He just felt foreign.
Chapter 463: Knight Commander (2)
Duke Thaddeus stood at a distance, his golden eyes steady, unreadable. The argument between him and Aeliana had dissipated, but something else had taken its place—something quieter, something more subtle, but no less consuming.
He watched.
Watched as his daughter squared off against the young man—Lucavion—with sharp words and sharper eyes. She was rigid at first, her irritation evident in the way her fingers twitched at her sides, the way her weight shifted just slightly, betraying the restlessness beneath her composed facade.
But then—slowly, subtly—it changed.
Aeliana's posture loosened, her stance no longer coiled tight with irritation but something else. The sharp edge in her eyes remained, but now it was tempered, focused, searching. She didn't turn away, didn't dismiss him.
She was engaging him.
Not just with words, but in the way her body responded—how her shoulders eased just slightly, how her lips pressed together in something that was not quite a frown, but not quite neutrality either.
And Lucavion—this boy—was unaffected.
No, more than that. He welcomed it.
His amusement was genuine. His body language relaxed, effortless, as if standing before Aeliana—before the Duke's own daughter—was no different from idle conversation with an old friend. His smirk never wavered, his black eyes never strayed.
He was not intimidated by her.
Not by her name. Not by her title. Not even by the fact that she had just threatened to take his head.
And what was stranger still—
Aeliana did not push him away.
She let him remain.
Thaddeus' gaze narrowed, something tightening in his chest. This. This was not something he had seen in her for a long, long time.
She was engaging with him the way she used to when she was young.
Before the sickness.
Before the veils and the isolation.
Before she had stopped seeking companionship altogether.
His mind drifted—to a different time, to a memory buried beneath years of duty, of war, of silence.
Aeliana had always been strong-willed. Even as a child, she had never been the type to sit quietly, never content to simply be the delicate daughter of a Duke. She had been fiery, stubborn, alive.
He remembered the way she had once run through the estate's gardens, the way she had pulled at the hems of the knights' cloaks, demanding they teach her how to wield a sword—much to their exasperation. She had always pushed, always tested her limits, always fought for what she wanted.
And back then—
She had laughed.
Not often. Not freely. But genuinely.
And then the sickness had come.
And everything had changed.
The fire in her dimmed. The defiance that once burned bright had been forced into embers, smothered beneath years of weakness, of limitations, of walls he had built to protect her.
For years, she had been surrounded by people who only ever looked at her—with pity, with reverence, with careful, measured words meant to keep her from breaking.
But now—
Now, she was standing before this young man, and she was not being careful.
She was challenging him.
She was reacting.
And this young man named Luca?
Thaddeus inhaled slowly, exhaling through his nose, his gaze unreadable as it lingered on his daughter.
Thaddeus' fingers curled at his sides, his patience thinning by the second.
His instincts, the ones honed through war, through years of command, through the weight of ruling an entire duchy, had always been sharp—unyielding. And yet, at this moment, it was not the instincts of a ruler that screamed at him.
It was something far more primitive.
A father's instinct.
Even as his mind told him there was nothing inherently wrong in what he was witnessing, something inside him refused to ignore it. Refused to let this… this boy—this Lucavion—stand so easily before his daughter, so unaffected by who she was.
It was irrational.
It was unnecessary.
But it was there.
A deep-seated irritation curled within him, sharp and persistent, demanding that he act—that he put an end to whatever this was before it could become something more.
His daughter—his only daughter—who had spent years hidden away, too weak to even leave her chambers, now stood before this young man as if none of it had ever happened.
And Thaddeus didn't know how to feel about that.
Aeliana had never let anyone stay too close. Not since the illness. Not since she learned that people did not treat the sick with kindness—but with pity.
Yet here she was, standing before Lucavion, trading words, meeting his gaze, engaging him as if he were an equal.
And he—
He looked at her with something other than pity.
That should have been a relief.
It wasn't.
Thaddeus exhaled, slow and measured, yet his irritation did not settle. It dug into him, restless, grating.
'This is absurd.'
He was not that kind of father.
The overbearing kind. The kind who hovered. The kind who meddled in matters that were beneath him.
And yet—
And yet.
His body had already moved before his mind could stop him.
With deliberate steps, he approached.
The weight of his presence was unmistakable, the air shifting just enough to be felt. He did not summon his mana, did not impose his will upon the space, but everyone knew he was there.
Lucavion was the first to acknowledge him.
The young man tilted his head slightly, black eyes gleaming with something unreadable—too knowing. He had sensed the irritation the moment Thaddeus stepped forward, but instead of faltering, instead of acting with the caution most men did in his presence—
Lucavion smiled.
That same insufferable, infuriating smirk that did not belong to a man who should know better.
'Audacious little—'
Thaddeus halted just beside Aeliana, his golden eyes locking onto Lucavion's with quiet intensity.
For a long moment, nothing was said.
Lucavion, utterly at ease, let the silence stretch, let it linger, let it settle like a tangible thing between them.
And then—
"Duke Thaddeus," he greeted, voice smooth, unhurried.
Thaddeus did not answer immediately. He simply looked at him, measured him, let the weight of his gaze do what words did not.
Lucavion did not fidget. Did not shift.
Did not lower his eyes.
Aeliana, who had remained silent up until now, finally sighed. "Father," she said flatly. "What are you doing?"
Thaddeus ignored her.
Instead, he let his gaze flick briefly to her before returning to the young man before him. "What exactly," his voice was low, even, measured, "do you think you are doing?"
Lucavion blinked, mock innocence playing across his features. "Speaking?"
The sheer audacity.
Thaddeus' jaw ticked. "Is that what you call it?"
Lucavion's smirk widened. "Unless the rules of conversation have changed, yes."
A beat of silence.
And then—
Aeliana groaned.
"Oh, for the love of—" She rubbed her temple, irritation slipping into her voice. "Can you not?"
Thaddeus did not shift his gaze.
Lucavion, however, exhaled softly, shaking his head as if this entire thing amused him more than it should.
"Duke Thaddeus," Lucavion mused, tilting his head slightly, "I understand that you have a great many things to worry about, but I must ask—" his black eyes gleamed, his smirk unfaltering. "Are you truly concerned about my presence, or do you simply not like that I exist?"
Aeliana stared.
Thaddeus' irritation spiked.
He had to force himself not to exhale sharply, not to react, not to let this boy think he had successfully dragged him into whatever game this was.
'This boy is insufferable.'
'And yet—'
Thaddeus had never met someone who could provoke him with so few words.
His silence must have given Lucavion all the answer he needed, because the young man chuckled.
Aeliana, sensing that something truly ridiculous was about to happen, stepped between them.
"Enough," she muttered, more exasperated than anything else. "Father, stop it. Lucavion—shut up."
Lucavion raised his hands in surrender once more, that same smirk lingering. "As you wish."
Lucavion's smirk remained, but his posture shifted slightly—not in retreat, not in caution, but in preparation.
His raised hands lowered, slow and deliberate, his black eyes glinting with something far sharper than amusement.
"Or….Is that what you expected me to say?"
His voice was light, but there was weight behind it—something that dared them to listen, dared them to understand that he was not a man who bowed.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"I refuse."
Chapter 464: Knight Commander (3)
"I refuse."
Lucavion's smirk curled into something sharper, something unapologetically defiant.
"I do not bow to anyone, nor obey anyone."
The air shifted.
Tension snapped through the deck like a drawn bowstring, pulled too tight, too close to breaking.
A vein twitched on Thaddeus' temple.
'This boy—'
A slow, burning irritation curled within him, relentless and unyielding. His patience, already strained from far too much of this nonsense, was now on the verge of snapping entirely.
But before he could react—
A sudden, sharp movement from the side.
Aeliana barely had time to register it.
Steel gleamed in the air.
"How dare you!"
The voice rang out, filled with righteous fury.
Reinhardt Valsteyn.
The Knight Commander.
The man who had served under Thaddeus for years, who had dedicated his life to the Duchy, to the Duke—to Aeliana.
His blade flashed, a streak of silver cutting through the air with lethal precision.
It was not a warning.
It was an execution.
"No!"
Aeliana's voice pierced through the moment, but she was too far, too late—
The sword fell.
CLANK!
Sparks exploded as metal met metal.
A shockwave tore through the deck, a pulse of force so strong it sent the loose planks groaning, the air shuddering beneath its weight.
Before it could reach her—
A barrier.
It formed in an instant, golden and unyielding, wrapping around Aeliana like a shield—an instinctual act, a forceful command of mana so absolute that it shattered the force of the shockwave before it could even graze her.
Aeliana stumbled back, but the impact never reached her.
Thaddeus' hand was still raised, his golden eyes sharp, glowing with restrained fury.
His barrier held.
His daughter was untouched.
And before him—
CLANG!
The impact rattled through Lucavion's arm like a shockwave, the bones in his forearm fracturing under the sheer force of Reinhardt's strike. Pain flared, hot and searing, but he didn't falter. His estoc, wreathed in that strange, black light, met the Knight Commander's blade head-on. Sparks flew as their auras clashed, energy rippling outward in violent waves, tearing into the wooden deck beneath them.
Aeliana stumbled back, eyes wide, barely able to process what she was seeing.
Reinhardt's sword should have cleaved him in two.
Yet here he stood.
Not unharmed—far from it—but alive.
Lucavion chuckled, breath ragged, as blood dripped from his broken arm. His grip on the estoc hadn't loosened, even as the veins along his wrist bulged unnaturally, straining from the pressure. His fingers trembled, but whether from pain or exhilaration was impossible to tell.
"Ah… this is amusing," he muttered, tilting his head, his voice edged with an odd, detached mirth. His golden eyes, usually filled with mocking arrogance, burned with something far more dangerous.
Reinhardt's expression darkened.
The boy was smiling.
Despite the pain, despite the overwhelming disadvantage, he looked entertained.
And then there was that mana.
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. It was unlike anything he had encountered in decades, yet disturbingly familiar. He had felt it before. Not this exact presence, but the essence of it—somewhere in the past, buried in the bloodstained pages of history he had once turned away from.
That creeping darkness, unfathomable yet incomplete.
"How?" the Duke murmured under his breath. His golden eyes flickered, scanning the dark energy that coiled around Lucavion's blade. It was unstable, restless, like a caged beast gnawing at the bars of its confinement. But the most unsettling part—
It made him feel threatened.
He, an eight-star Awakened, a veteran of countless battles, a warrior whose aura alone had made seasoned knights tremble—felt a sliver of danger from this boy's mere presence.
'Impossible.'
Reinhardt, oblivious to the Duke's internal alarm, pushed forward. His sword pressed down with crushing force, the sheer weight of his mana-infused strike threatening to shatter Lucavion's defense entirely.
The estoc groaned under the pressure, its slender blade bending, on the verge of snapping.
Lucavion's grin widened. His fractured arm screamed in protest, the pain drowning out reason, but he welcomed it.
'This body is weak. But weakness can be entertaining, no?'
The darkness around his blade pulsed—once, then twice—before surging outward.
BOOM!
The force erupted between them, a concentrated burst of mana clashing against Reinhardt's power. The shockwave sent cracks racing across the deck, planks splitting as the impact hurled both combatants backward.
Lucavion landed hard, rolling to absorb the force, his injured arm hanging limply at his side. His coat, once pristine, was now tattered, blood soaking through the fabric where splintered wood had torn into his skin.
Reinhardt barely stumbled, his footing unwavering, but he looked at his own blade with a frown.
A portion of his mana had been… devoured.
"What trickery is this?"
Lucavion exhaled sharply, shaking his broken arm as if testing it. The pain was unbearable. His fingers twitched uselessly. 'Ugh. That's not going to be of much use for now.'
Yet he was still standing.
And more importantly, he was still smiling.
Thaddeus took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing further. "Enough."
Reinhardt took a sharp step forward, his blade still in hand, his mana still bristling around him. His breath was controlled, his stance unwavering, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable.
"This level of disrespect cannot be tolerated, Your Grace." His eyes blazed as he turned toward Thaddeus, the weight of his conviction sharp as his blade. "He does not know his place. Shall I correct that?"
Lucavion let out a breath—slow, measured, but the strain was clear. His broken arm trembled slightly, his coat dark with blood, but his smirk remained, though thinner now.
And still, he spoke.
"What? Since when did speaking one's mind become disrespect?"
His black eyes, sharp despite his injuries, flickered toward Reinhardt with something close to amusement—as if none of this was enough to deter him, as if nothing ever would be.
Reinhardt stiffened. "You—"
"Enough."
Thaddeus' voice cut through the air like a blade.
Reinhardt froze.
The ship itself seemed to still beneath the weight of the Duke's command.
For a moment, no one moved.
And yet—
Lucavion grinned.
Even wounded, outmatched, standing before the most powerful man on this ship— he did not falter.
"Speaking without manners is not the same as speaking freely," Reinhardt growled, his grip tightening on his sword. "You insulted the Duke himself."
Lucavion tilted his head.
"I disagree."
His voice did not hold arrogance this time. Nor mockery.
Only conviction.
"Manners," he said, exhaling, shifting his weight onto his uninjured side, "are nothing more than fabricated chains. An illusion created by those in power to control those without. They are limits. They do not exist to show respect—they exist to restrict."
Reinhardt's brows furrowed. "That is nothing but a child's excuse for insolence."
Lucavion laughed. It was a short sound, low, rough—pained. His ribs ached from the impact, his arm screamed at him to be still, but he was not done.
"Insolence?" He hummed, tilting his head, his dark eyes glinting. "If speaking honestly is insolence, then tell me, Sir Knight—who benefits from your so-called decorum?"
Reinhardt stepped forward, barely restraining himself. "Everyone. Society thrives on order, on respect. Without it, the world would crumble into chaos."
Lucavion exhaled, slowly, deliberately.
"And yet," he mused, his smirk curling back into place, "somehow, I suspect that the ones who demand the most respect—are the ones least deserving of it."
Reinhardt's eyes blazed.
"Enough of this nonsense!" His blade twitched in his grip, his composure fraying. "You speak without control. That is not freedom—that is recklessness."
Lucavion chuckled.
And then, his gaze—his dark, piercing gaze—shifted ever so slightly.
Not toward Reinhardt.
But toward the Duke.
"Also," he said, casually, but his voice was edged, "to me, the one who lacks manners is not the one who speaks freely, but the one who eavesdrops on conversations they were never invited into."
Reinhardt stilled.
Aeliana's breath hitched.
Thaddeus' golden eyes narrowed, something cold flickering beneath them.
"Isn't that right, mister Knight Commander?"
Chapter 465: Knight Commander (4)
"To me, the one who lacks manners is not the one who speaks freely, but the one who eavesdrops on conversations they were never invited into. Isn't that right, mister Knight Commander?"
Reinhardt's glare sharpened, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, but before he could lash out, Thaddeus raised a hand.
"Enough."
The single command, spoken without force yet carrying undeniable authority, anchored the moment in place. Reinhardt exhaled sharply through his nose, but he obeyed, stepping back.
Thaddeus' golden eyes, steady and unreadable, remained on Lucavion.
"I trust Reinhardt," he said, his voice even, absolute. "He is more than qualified."
Lucavion's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it curled at the edges, something knowing gleaming behind his dark eyes.
"Then why not make it so that he was here from the start?" His tone was almost lazy, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath it. "After all, there's always the chance that your daughter wasn't even aware of his presence."
Aeliana's eyes flickered slightly, her fingers twitching at her sides.
Lucavion saw it.
His grin widened.
A beat of silence.
Then, smoothly, he continued, "Also, let's not forget—I nearly lost my life here." He gestured slightly with his uninjured arm, his coat still damp with blood, his breathing still slightly uneven. "Surely, the Duke—the mighty Pillar of the Empire—could have prevented it."
Another pause.
And then, as if the thought had only just occurred to him, Lucavion tilted his head.
"Unless…" He let the word linger, rolling it across his tongue, his gaze flickering with something deliberate.
Thaddeus didn't react, but Lucavion could feel it—the shift in the air, the weight of that silence pressing down like the stillness before a storm.
"Unless," Lucavion mused, "this was a test."
Aeliana's breath hitched.
Reinhardt's expression darkened.
Lucavion?
He smiled.
"That would be interesting, wouldn't it?" He exhaled, feigning thoughtfulness. "The great Duke Thaddeus—watching from the sidelines, waiting to see if I'd survive or crumble." His black eyes gleamed with undisguised amusement. "A bit cruel, perhaps, but I suppose I can't be too offended."
He let the words settle. Let them weave into the air.
Then, after a deliberate pause—
His smirk sharpened.
"After all," he mused, "I do love a good game."
Thaddeus' gaze was sharp, unwavering as he leveled his eyes at Lucavion. There was no immediate answer to the provocation, no verbal retaliation, only the weight of silence pressing down on the deck. It was an acknowledgment, in its own way, that the boy had struck something close to truth.
Aeliana, however, was quicker to act. She stepped toward Lucavion, her focus shifting entirely to his arm.
"Are you okay?"
Lucavion blinked at the question, as if mildly surprised by her concern. Then, with an easy shrug, he glanced at his injured limb, rolling his shoulder slightly as if to test its limitations. His smirk, though strained, never quite disappeared.
"It's fine," he said, voice light but edged with exhaustion. "As you've seen before, I've been injured way worse than this."
Aeliana didn't answer immediately. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable, though her fingers curled slightly at her sides. There was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something that Lucavion caught but did not comment on.
She exhaled, slow and controlled, before turning her glare toward her father.
Thaddeus let out a quiet sigh.
This young man…
The truth was, he could have prevented it. Reinhardt, for all his fury, was still his subordinate and obeyed his command without question. One word from him, and the sword would never have been swung in the first place. Yet he had chosen to watch, to observe. To see if this Lucavion was truly capable of standing his ground.
Still, Reinhardt had gone too far. That much was undeniable. The boy had nearly lost his life, and despite his arrogance, he was right about that.
Even so, that was not the part that unsettled Thaddeus the most.
It was the energy.
The flicker of something old beneath Lucavion's mana. The way it surged, chaotic and restrained all at once, unstable yet unmistakable.
A memory stirred, unbidden.
A battlefield, long ago.
The scent of blood thick in the air, the sky darkened by the smoke of war.
And a man—a lone figure standing amid the corpses of countless soldiers, his presence a force of nature that none dared to stand against.
Thaddeus remembered that scene as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
A legend.
A madman.
The one who had carved his name into history with nothing but blood and sheer, unrelenting will.
'No way…'
His fingers curled slightly, a shadow passing through his thoughts.
There was no possible connection. That man had disappeared nearly twenty years ago, vanishing into obscurity as if he had never existed.
And yet, something about Lucavion's energy, the way it crackled against the air, made Thaddeus remember.
He exhaled slowly, pushing the thought away.
No. It was just a coincidence. A mere resemblance, nothing more.
And yet, as he looked at Lucavion again, he couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was only the beginning.
Top of Form
Bottom of Form
Thaddeus exhaled, the weight of his thoughts settling, but not enough to keep him from acting. With a simple flick of his hand, he gestured toward one of the knights standing at attention nearby.
"Bring out Lirian," he commanded, his voice carrying across the deck with ease.
The knight immediately saluted before turning on his heel and striding away.
Lirian was among the finest healers in the Duchy, a prodigy in restorative magic and battlefield medicine. Thaddeus had brought him along for this expedition precisely because he anticipated the need for quick and effective healing. And now, despite Lucavion's bravado, the boy's injuries needed attention. He would not have his daughter hovering over a half-broken man, nor would he allow someone who had been reckless enough to stand against Reinhardt remain wounded under his watch.
His gaze shifted.
Reinhardt stood firm, but Thaddeus could see it—the barely concealed frustration, the tension still coiled in his stance. Yet, more than that, there was the weight of realization in his expression. A subtle flicker, brief but telling.
He knew he had gone too far.
But that alone wasn't enough.
Thaddeus' golden eyes narrowed slightly, sharp and deliberate. No words were spoken, no reprimand voiced aloud, but the message was clear as day in the way he held his stare.
Repent.
Reinhardt stiffened.
Aeliana's glare still burned at the edges of his vision, her expression cold and unforgiving. She had not spoken since tending to Lucavion, but her stance, her silence, was louder than words.
And Thaddeus knew that if he did not handle this properly, her anger would only deepen.
Reinhardt inhaled through his nose before, finally, his fingers loosened from the hilt of his sword. With a slow, steady movement, he turned toward Lucavion.
A pause.
Then—
"…I overstepped."
His voice was level, but there was weight behind it.
Aeliana blinked, clearly not expecting him to acknowledge it so quickly.
Lucavion, however, merely chuckled, shifting slightly despite the pain laced in his movement. "You think?"
Reinhardt's jaw tensed, but he held his composure. His pride would not allow him to bow outright, but his words, his acknowledgment, were already more than what most would have expected from the Knight Commander of the Duchy.
"Well….I did not expect much already….But….Good boy."
"You!-"
"Calm down, Reinhardt."
"Ahahaha…"
Chapter 466: Knight Commander (5)
Thaddeus' golden eyes darkened, cutting through the lingering tension with a single, pointed glare.
"I have tolerated your insolence thus far, Luca or whatever your real name is," he said, his voice calm, measured, but carrying the weight of something undeniable beneath it. "Because it appears you saved my daughter."
His gaze did not waver.
"But everything has a limit."
The words fell like a stone, heavy and absolute. A warning. A line drawn in the sand.
Lucavion, however, did not flinch.
He met Thaddeus' gaze without hesitation, his black eyes unreadable, holding steady for a long moment. The air between them remained still, as if waiting for something to break the silence.
Then—
Lucavion sighed.
His shoulders loosened, his posture shifting slightly as he lifted his uninjured hand in surrender.
"I understand that," he admitted, his tone smoother now, not quite yielding but not as sharp as before. "But you must not expect me to stay still when someone I don't know suddenly attacks me and breaks my arm, right?"
He tilted his head slightly, his smirk barely lingering at the edge of his lips.
"At the very least, I should have some leverage, don't you think?"
Silence.
A heavy pause.
Then—
"...Sigh…."
Thaddeus exhaled, slowly, rubbing his temple as if physically forcing himself to maintain his patience.
He truly had no words for this young man.
Lucavion was like a charlatan, twisting the simplest arguments in his favor, never quite wrong, never quite right—always walking that insufferable line between amusement and audacity.
And what made it even worse was the fact that this ridiculous boy had somehow attained true strength.
It was absurd.
A contradiction.
Someone with this personality had no business wielding such power.
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes slightly.
He had met many warriors. Kings. Generals. Legends of their time.
But never had he met someone like this.
Lucavion's smirk widened slightly as he tilted his head, studying the Duke with keen, knowing eyes.
"Whatever my real name is?" he echoed, amusement threading through his tone. "I see… It appears that the Duke has already done a background check on me."
Thaddeus met his gaze without hesitation, his expression unreadable, yet there was no denial in his stance.
"With the kind of attention you drew during the expedition, there was no chance I would simply leave you alone," he said evenly.
Lucavion hummed, not particularly surprised. Of course, a man like Thaddeus would have looked into him. Anyone who had managed to survive against the Kraken, someone who had broken through a star rank mid-battle, was bound to be investigated.
But the way the Duke phrased it, the way he didn't outright confirm what he had found, was interesting.
'So he's still uncertain about me. Good.'
Before the conversation could continue, footsteps approached from behind.
"Your Grace," the knight who had been sent out earlier spoke, bowing slightly. "Healer Lirian has arrived."
A man stepped forward, his presence far quieter compared to the tension that had filled the deck only moments ago. He had an air of composed confidence about him, dressed in the robes of a high-ranking medic, his sleeves embroidered with the crest of the Duchy's elite healers.
Lirian's gaze flickered toward Lucavion, assessing him quickly before setting down his bag of supplies.
"Let's begin," he said briskly, already pulling out his tools. "Hold still, please."
Lucavion gave an exaggerated sigh but obeyed, though not without muttering, "As if I could move much with a broken arm."
Lirian paid him no mind, his hands already moving over Lucavion's injuries. His mana, cool and steady, seeped into the wounds, knitting flesh back together, soothing over the worst of the damage.
But then—
He stilled.
A faint furrow appeared between his brows as his fingers lingered over Lucavion's forearm, his mana pulsing slightly as if searching for something.
A pause.
Then, carefully, he spoke.
"Pardon, but may I ask something?"
Lucavion raised a brow. "Depends on the question. You may not get an answer."
Lirian's lips twitched faintly, but he pressed on. "Just something basic. What is your rank exactly?"
Lucavion blinked at the oddly specific question. "My rank?" He tilted his head before answering casually, "Five-star."
Lirian exhaled softly, as if confirming something to himself. "Just as I thought."
Aeliana, who had been watching silently up until now, frowned slightly. "Is something the matter?"
Lirian hesitated, his fingers still lightly resting over Lucavion's arm as if trying to make sense of what he had just discovered. Then, carefully, he chose his words.
"It is nothing… It's just…" He paused, considering. "I feel like this body has undergone more than one Body Reconstruction."
Lucavion's eyes flickered with something unreadable, though his expression remained neutral.
"Hmm? What makes you think so?"
Lirian's gaze remained focused, his mana pulsing ever so slightly again as if feeling out the layers beneath the surface of Lucavion's body.
"There are signs," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Subtle ones, but they're there. The kind that shouldn't exist unless a person has forcefully undergone reconstruction multiple times."
Aeliana's frown deepened. "That's…" She trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.
Because that was impossible.
Body Reconstruction was a rare and painful process, one that very few could endure with only the strength of 5-star, and only once in their lifetime. It was something only the most powerful mages or warriors dared to attempt, as it required breaking down the body entirely to rebuild it stronger.
To go through it more than once was unheard of.
And yet—
Lucavion let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if amused by the entire conversation.
"You may simply be mistaken," he said, his tone light, almost dismissive. "After all, what you're suggesting is unheard of, isn't it?"
Lirian hesitated for a fraction of a second before exhaling, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah… That's right," he admitted with a small chuckle. "I suppose I've spoken too much for no reason. My apologies."
The moment of tension dissolved as the healer continued tending to Lucavion's wounds, his movements practiced and efficient. His mana pulsed gently, closing torn flesh and soothing damaged nerves, the golden light of his magic flickering across Lucavion's skin.
Still, as he worked, Lirian couldn't help but comment.
"You should take better care of your body," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Even though it appears to be far more durable than most—almost unnaturally so—everything has its limits."
Lucavion glanced at him, dark eyes unreadable. "Durable, huh?"
Lirian nodded. "Your body has a strong regenerative force, stronger than any ordinary five-star I've come across. It's subtle, but it's there. It's almost like your body was… rebuilt for survival."
A pause.
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, his smirk still lingering at the edges of his lips, though fainter now. "And what happens if I don't take care of it?"
Lirian blinked at the unexpected question before shrugging lightly. "Well, I don't know. I'd say… you'd probably die early?"
Lucavion's expression didn't change immediately.
But for a moment—just a flicker of a second—his gaze turned distant.
"…I see…"
He exhaled slowly, tilting his head back, looking up at the sky as if pondering something only he could understand.