"I don't recall giving you permission to speak," he said, with the lazy cruelty of a man fully aware of his dominance.
Panic twisted inside Lucius. He tried to summon mana, even just a sliver of it—telekinesis, anything—but nothing stirred. The mana around him ignored his presence. Even the mana within him… was silent.
Sort of dead as his eye widened in dawning horror.
Zero Dawn chuckled softly, as if relishing the reaction. "Ah-ah," he said in amusement. "Let me remind you—this is the agreement we 'collectively' came to."
Lucius wanted to scream. Wanted to hurl curses and throw fists, but he could do neither. He had accepted the deal. And now, he was bound—utterly—in both voice and soul.
"Anyways," the Dragon Emperor stretched his arms behind his head with casual arrogance, "you got any questions? Maybe something to say? An opinion to share?" His voice was relaxed—annoyingly mockingly so, and just like that, Lucius could speak again. The words came as naturally as ever, like his voice had never been stripped away... The temptation was immediate.
Lucius had a thousand things he wanted to throw at the Dragon Emperor—questions, insults, curses so ancient even scholars would blush. He wanted to scream, to spit venom, to damn this bastard and every generation before and after him, But something inside him—perhaps reason, perhaps sheer survival instinct—held him back, for good.
Zero Dawn had already revealed the kind of man he truly was. Not the benevolent ruler the stories painted him as, but an egotistical tyrant, manipulative and calculating. Unshakable power wrapped in a god complex. This wasn't a saviour; he was an apex predator... And unfortunately, Lucius had been caught in his jaws the moment he first opened his eyes that night, when he was merely eight.
He breathed in sharply. Then spoke.
"Why wait a month?" he asked, voice low but firm. "I'll come now. What's the point of dragging it out? It's not like I'll have loved ones left to visit, not with the conditions you've laid out. Conditions, by the way, that you have no damn right to impose. It's my life. Not yours."
Zero Dawn's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes shimmered with interest. He was enjoying this, not just the control, but Lucius himself. The fire. The resistance. The fact that Lucius still had the audacity to talk back, even now.
Perhaps it had been centuries since anyone had.
"Because," Zero Dawn said coolly, "you're going to need that month." Lucius frowned. "Why?"
Zero Dawn chuckled under his breath, and Lucius immediately regretted asking. "It seems you've forgotten what's waiting for you when you wake up." He began listing it off, one finger at a time.
"Missing an eye. Missing an arm. Spine trauma. Torn ligaments. Burned flesh. A half-melted face. Multiple fractures. Mana exhaustion. Brain meltdown. Possibly extensive internal bleeding, brain bleeding. Oh—and let's not forget the Chimaera, who, by the way, nearly made mincemeat of you." Lucius flinched slightly. He remembered the pain. Of course he did. The searing heat. The blood. The sound of his own bones cracking.
His face twisted in discomfort. "…Right."
"And," Zero Dawn added, almost as an afterthought, "your 'average-looking face'? Looks even worse now. If someone doesn't scream when they see you, I'll be genuinely surprised."
Lucius bit back a groan, rubbing his temple. This was getting worse by the second. Still, something bothered him—something that didn't make sense.
"If we're soul-bound… why do I have to physically meet you again?" Lucius asked, squinting at the Dragon Emperor. "You should be able to communicate through thought. Through the pact. That's how this works, isn't it?"
The question was logical. But logic didn't matter here. Not with him. Zero Dawn smiled—not kindly.
"It's not that I can't speak through the bond. I simply prefer not to. I enjoy conversations face-to-face. They're more…" He tapped his chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Entertaining." Lucius stared at him in disbelief. So that was it. This wasn't a necessity. It was a preference.
The Dragon Emperor wanted the drama. The confrontation. The theatre of control. Lucius exhaled slowly, suppressing the scream that begged to rip out of him. It wasn't just the absurd terms. It was how little power he had in the face of it all.
Still, one thing was clear.
He would survive. He would heal. He would ascend, but not for Zero Dawn. For himself. For Sara. For his mentor. For everything this bastard told him to give up. He would do it all—and then find a way to break this damn bond one day.
"... Actually, the annoying thing is, I have to share a lot of details, information, and stories," Zero Dawn replied, the usual mockery replaced with a calmer edge now. "About the events you're tangled in... the ones I've already faced… and the ones we're going to face together."
He paused, watching Lucius closely.
"Such detailed information can't be passed through a mental link. Not with the depth and clarity required. It has to be there—in the dimension my body is in. That's the only place I can relay what truly matters. So, yes, it is time-consuming. And no," his lip curled slightly, "I'm not exactly thrilled about it either."
"That makes two of us," Lucius shot back immediately, his tone dry.
Zero Dawn smiled faintly, but didn't retort. Instead, he looked upward for a moment—his expression unreadable—as if checking the flow of time in this strange, suspended realm. Then slowly, deliberately, he lifted his left arm.
That same arm he had used again and again in subtle displays of power, dominance, theatrics, and commands. A mirror to Lucius's own style and preference, his strong side, his fighting side. His left side.
Once it reached Lucius's head height, the Dragon Emperor moved his hand forward, cupping the back of Lucius's neck with a touch so light and controlled it startled him for a moment.
Lucius had thought sensation didn't exist in this place—that it was merely a soul-space, an illusion of consciousness. But the weight of Zero Dawn's touch was unmistakable. Real. Solid. Warm.
But of course. He should have known. This man-this godlike tyrant in a human's skin—was infamous for rewriting the rules of what was possible.
As Zero Dawn gently pulled Lucius forward, their foreheads neared. And just for a heartbeat—barely more than a flicker—Lucius saw something.
Behind the arrogance. Behind the godlike presence. There it was: Relief. Gladness. Satisfaction. Genuine, human emotions.
And though Zero Dawn masked it quickly, Lucius had already seen it. Felt it.
But he didn't dwell on it. He couldn't. His mind had long cast this man as a cruel manipulator. A villain with a god complex. There was no space left to entertain the possibility of… humanity. Not from him. Not now.
Still… When their foreheads touched, Zero Dawn allowed his lips to curl—not with mockery, but with something far more dangerous. A real smile. It wasn't wide. It wasn't loud. But it was genuine. Soft. Calm. Almost... proud.
Then, with his head still gently bowed to match Lucius's height, he spoke.
His voice was deep yet strangely melodic—masculine, but touched with a flowing, feminine cadence. A harmony of contrast. Of command and nurture.
And as he spoke, the entire realm around them responded. The mana that filled the air began to shimmer. Crackle. Stir with meaning.
"THUNDER ZONE: LET THERE BE LIFE, AND ********** "
The words echoed like a decree—ancient, powerful, and absolute as the world around Lucius... Changed, within the blink of an eye.