HUUUUM—
The eastern training grounds of the Valerian Palace were sacred ground.
No blood had ever stained these stones in true battle. Here, cultivators tested limits under the watchful gaze of imperial formations—
suppression arrays to prevent death,
recording crystals to preserve every clash,
illusion wards capable of replaying combat in flawless detail.
Today, those wards would record something the heavens had never planned for.
Lucien Valerian and Kael Frostborn stood twenty paces apart.
Stone scarred by generations of sparring stretched beneath their feet.
A crowd ringed the arena—courtiers whispering behind silk fans, generals with arms crossed, sect elders stroking thoughtful beards. Elara stood closest, her grip firm on her sword hilt.
Above them all, the Emperor watched from a raised pavilion.
His face revealed nothing.
—SHIIING—
Kael drew his weapon.
A simple spear.
Frost-steel shaft.
Tip carved from the fang of an ancient ice wyrm.
No ornamentation. No hidden arrays.
A tool meant for one purpose.
Lucien stood empty-handed.
The murmurs swelled.
"Is His Highness truly fighting bare-handed?"
"Against that spear?"
"Madness… or absolute confidence?"
Kael planted the spear butt to the stone and bowed—not as a subject, but as a warrior.
Lucien returned it.
Perfectly.
Then—
—BOOM—
Kael moved.
He exploded forward, crossing the distance in a blink. The spear lunged toward Lucien's chest—precise, controlled, lethal in any other setting.
Any Heavenly Sovereign would have countered with overwhelming force.
Lucien stepped aside.
Not with brilliance.
Not with power.
Just… enough.
The spear sliced through empty air.
Kael's eyes widened a fraction.
He pivoted, sweeping the spear in a frost-laced arc.
Lucien leaned.
A half-step.
No wasted motion.
His feet never left a circle wider than his shoulders.
—DING—DING—
The system screen spasmed at the edge of his vision.
[Combat Event Detected]
Expected Outcome: Absolute Domination
Current Outcome: UNDEFINED
Cracks tore through the interface.
WHY IS HE TOYING WITH HIM THIS ISN'T HOW DOMINANCE WORKS
MAKE HIM CRUSH THE PROTAGONIST
I HATE THIS
Lucien almost laughed.
Kael pressed harder.
Silver arcs of spear-light filled the arena, frost blooming with every strike. He was holding back—but only barely.
To the spectators, it looked like pressure.
To three people, it looked like something else.
Elara, whose dragon blood perceived truth beyond motion.
The Emperor, whose eyes saw causality itself.
And Kael.
Lucien wasn't defending.
He was reading.
Qi flow.
Muscle tension.
Habitual sequences.
He had seen this style before.
Dozens of times.
In another life.
Kael fought like someone guided. Perfect timing. Cinematic flourishes. Movements designed to inspire awe rather than efficiency.
Movements born from a script.
As Kael launched a complex spinning strike—beautiful, deadly, unnecessary—
Lucien stepped forward.
Inside the guard.
Two fingers touched the spear shaft.
Not blocked.
Not seized.
Touched.
—CRACK—
The weapon froze.
Frost raced backward, locking Kael's arms mid-motion. The arena went silent.
Lucien leaned close.
"Your third sequence leaves a 0.3-second opening after the reverse grip transition," he murmured.
"Your master taught you to mask it with frost manifestation. Against most opponents, it works."
Kael's breath caught.
"But to someone who reads qi flow?" Lucien continued softly.
"It screams."
Lucien released the spear.
—CLANG—
Kael stumbled back, staring at his weapon.
The frost melted.
The system screamed.
[CRITICAL ANOMALY]
Protagonist Growth Path Disrupted
Plot Armor Integrity: COMPROMISED
WHAT IF I JUST FORCE A BREAKTHROUGH RIGHT NOW—
A thick golden thread erupted into existence—violent, desperate—lunging for Kael's soul.
Lucien caught it.
The thread burned, resisting, screaming with borrowed authority.
Lucien wrapped it around his hand.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
—SNAP—
Kael staggered, clutching his chest. Golden light flared—
—and died.
He looked up.
Confused.
Relieved.
Lucien raised his voice.
"Again. This time—don't hold back."
Silence.
Then Kael smiled.
Not a destined grin.
A real one.
They clashed again.
This time, Kael fought without guidance.
Rougher. Messier. Alive.
He made mistakes—and learned instantly.
Lucien corrected him without words. A tap here. A halted strike there.
Not domination.
Instruction.
They moved like this for minutes that felt like hours.
When they separated, frost coated the arena. Imperial qi lingered like golden mist.
The crowd didn't know what to think.
Kael planted his spear and bowed deeply.
A student.
Lucien returned it.
An equal.
The system barely existed anymore.
[Chapter Outline: INVALID]
[Character Roles: UNDEFINED]
[Author Status: EXISTENTIAL CRISIS]
Through the largest crack, Lucien saw a single line—
Written slowly.
…what if the villain was right all along?
Lucien reached through.
For a moment, he felt paper.
A desk.
The warmth of a screen.
He left something behind.
A thread.
Black.
Imperial.
Then the crack sealed.
"Stay in the capital," Lucien said as he walked away.
"We have much to learn from each other."
Elara matched his pace.
"You're breaking the world," she whispered.
Lucien smiled.
"Good."
High above, the Emperor watched with eyes that had witnessed dynasties fall.
For the first time in centuries—
He was intrigued.
The story had changed.
And the author was no longer alone.