His body slammed into the ground, and the world spun around him. Lucas tried to open his eyes. His vision was blurry. His head felt heavy, and a throbbing pain pulsed from his temples through his entire skull. The dry earth and the stench of blood mixed in the night air, choking his lungs.
Footsteps approached—slow, heavy, and deliberate.
Lucas tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. The only thing he could still control was his mind—and even that was beginning to fade, chipped away by searing pain.
"Why aren't you unconscious?" James asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Before James's sword could strike his head, Lucas had bitten his own tongue—hard. The pain had kept him conscious, even after taking such a devastating blow.
Lucas didn't answer. James, now standing beside him, grabbed his collar and muttered,
"You could've died painlessly, you know."
The words sparked something inside Lucas. He spat blood and saliva in James's face, eyes burning with hatred, as if he could kill him with just a glare.
"I'll admit it—you're stubborn. Persistent, even." Despite the insult, James's face showed no anger.
He calmly wiped his face with a handkerchief pulled from beneath his armor, then grabbed Lucas by the back of his collar and started dragging him into the darkness—away from the fire and tents where their group had decided to rest... forever.
"Pray," he said, "that the first beast we meet kills you quickly."
As they moved, Lucas tried to gather his strength, waiting for the right moment to strike. At the same time, he studied James's every movement, hoping the man would let his guard down and assume he was no longer a threat.
"That talk about doing this for the Sinclair Kingdom—just a lie, wasn't it? You were sent by the Graham Kingdom to kill me. How much did they pay to bribe a 'loyal' knight like you?" Lucas said suddenly, his voice weak, laced with provocation.
James stopped for a second. His usually stoic face twisted with anger. Lucas's words had struck a nerve.
"Shut your mouth, Prince! Someone like you, who knows nothing, has no right to judge my actions," James said coldly.
"Why so angry, James? Because I hit a nerve?" Lucas snapped back, unable to hold it in.
He knew he should stop provoking him. There was no gain in pushing James further. But seeing a traitor still standing tall like some noble knight made his blood boil.
'Guess I really have a talent for pissing people off,' he thought.
James didn't respond. He resumed walking, dragging Lucas roughly along. Oddly enough, not a single beast appeared in their path through the forest.
"Maybe all the beasts are at some forest party tonight. Look, why don't you just drop this whole murder plan? I swear I'll forget everything you did to me today," Lucas said, trying to negotiate.
James stayed silent.
[Burning Blood Activated. Your Power Increases Exponentially.]
Suddenly, Lucas moved with incredible speed. A beautifully crafted dagger materialized in his right hand out of nowhere. In one fluid motion, he drove it straight into James's heart—from behind.
It all happened in a split second.
James didn't even have time to react. The attack was fast, unexpected. He never imagined Lucas had a weapon—or the power to wield it. He had completely underestimated the prince he once deemed useless.
But the exponential power vanished the moment Lucas deactivated Burning Blood. His eyes returned to normal, and his body began to tremble. He could barely stay standing.
He knew he was lucky. If James hadn't underestimated him, that sneak attack would've failed. After all, James was a Four-Circle Mage. In a one-on-one fight—even at full strength—Lucas would have stood no chance.
"You... you were hiding your power?" James's voice was hoarse, but brimming with rage.
Hearing it, Lucas's heart sank. He was certain he had stabbed James's heart dead-on. But James... was still alive.
[Burning Blood Activated. Your Power Increases Exponentially.]
Lucas immediately reactivated the skill, bracing for the worst.
A sharp elbow strike came out of nowhere, smashing into his face and sending him sprawling. At the same time, he kicked James's sword—his deadliest weapon—far away.
James reached instinctively for his belt. His hand found nothing. His sword was gone. Roaring with fury, he lunged at Lucas, grabbing his throat and unleashing a flurry of vicious punches.
Blow after blow landed on Lucas's face, blurring his vision and making the world spin. Blood streamed from his nose and temples, dripping onto the grass below.
Lucas struggled, but James's grip was like iron. His breath hitched. A few more seconds like this and his neck would snap—or his skull would shatter.
"I'll kill you... slowly..." James snarled, breath ragged with hatred.
Lucas knew he was out of time. With the last ounce of strength he had, he drove his knee into James's stomach. But James barely flinched—like hitting a stone wall. Even with Burning Blood active, the blow did nothing.
Lucas collapsed, helpless, unable to fight back. His vision dimmed. He had no idea how to survive this.
Then, a flicker of hope.
He felt James's punches losing power, ever so slightly.
Gritting his teeth, Lucas raised his arms, trying to shield his face. He knew what he had to do now—just survive. If he could hang on a little longer, he might make it out alive. James was already dying from the dagger strike. That much was certain.
And James knew it, too.
Realizing his time was running out, James poured every ounce of strength into finishing the job.
"WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE?!" James roared. He stopped punching and wrapped both hands around Lucas's neck, squeezing.
Lucas couldn't breathe.
"DO YOU THINK YOUR LIFE MATTERS?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE WORTH THE LIVES OF THE SOLDIERS AND PEOPLE WHO'LL DIE BECAUSE OF YOU?! IF YOU DIE, THE WAR WITH GRAHAM WON'T HAPPEN! DIE! DIE FOR THE SAKE OF THIS KINGDOM!"
In that moment, all Lucas could see was the madness in James's eyes. And that madness filled him with despair.
Lying helpless, death was all that awaited him. And as his fading consciousness slipped further, the grip on his throat finally loosened.
At the same time, a whisper echoed in his mind:
[You Have Killed a Four-Circle Mage. Would You Like to Extract His Blood?]
'Yes.'