Chapter 217:

The moment Lucifer said "fine," the square cracked open beneath him.

Mana surged from his body in waves—deep red, shadow-laced, burning hot and cold at once. His eyes glowed like blood suns as his aura flared, pushing outward like a tide. The stone around his feet shattered. Dust curled up into the air, circling him like ash pulled by gravity.

Valecar moved first.

He was fast.

A flicker. A ripple in the air. One heartbeat.

And then his fist slammed toward Lucifer’s head with enough force to break a mountain in half.

Lucifer ducked low, the punch slicing overhead, carving a crater through the air. He countered with a sharp elbow to Valecar’s ribs—clean, precise—but Valecar twisted, using his momentum to spin and strike with a backfist laced in dark crimson flames.

It hit.

Lucifer flew sideways, cracking into the shattered remains of the plaza wall. Dust exploded outward as he righted himself mid-air, sliding backward across the rubble.

He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Valecar stood where he landed the hit, shoulders loose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You’re slower," he said.



Lucifer didn’t answer.

He stepped forward and raised his hand.

A long, curved blade of living shadow formed in his grip—his ancestral weapon, Velrith, humming with latent power.

He vanished.

Then reappeared behind Valecar in the same breath.

He slashed.

Valecar barely dodged—the blade grazing his cheek and drawing a thin line of black blood. He jumped back, summoning a black halberd of spiked obsidian from the ground. He caught it mid-air and spun it with one hand before charging forward.

The two clashed in the center of the ruined plaza.

Shadow met infernal steel. Every strike was a shockwave. Every parry split the air. Lucifer moved like a storm—calculated, overwhelming—but it was clear he wasn’t at full strength. His swings were half a second slower than normal. His footwork lagged just enough to allow Valecar to keep up.

Valecar was good.

Too good.

His movements were sharp, ruthless. Unpredictable. And he was enjoying this.

Lucifer tried to press, using a burst of blood magic to freeze Valecar in place—but the moment the glyph lit up, Valecar grinned and dispelled it with a crimson seal etched onto his forearm.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

"A counter-sigil?" he muttered.

Valecar’s grin widened.

"You’re not the only one who studied the old arts."

He leapt forward, ramming Lucifer with his shoulder and knocking him back again—straight into the edge of the crater.

Lucifer hit the ground hard, skidding until his back slammed into a broken column.

Then it happened.

Valecar’s hand slipped into his coat.

And he pulled out something old. Something cursed.

A twisted black vial.

Lucifer’s eyes widened.

"No—"

Valecar bit into it with his fangs, and the liquid inside hissed like acid meeting blood. His veins turned black for an instant, glowing with unstable runes. His aura spiked.

He dropped the vial and vanished.

Lucifer barely rolled aside as Valecar reappeared in a flash of blood mist, punching a hole into the stone where his chest had been.

Lucifer staggered to his feet, breathing hard.

His vision swam.

The fight with the Vrahl’An... it hadn’t healed yet. His insides were still recovering. Every movement now pulled at something broken.

Valecar knew it.

And he pressed harder.

He didn’t fight like a warrior anymore. He fought like a predator who smelled blood.

Claws formed on his hands—elongated, razor-sharp. He slashed across Lucifer’s chest, drawing a spray of red. Lucifer blocked the next strike with his forearm, but the impact cracked his bone.

He clenched his jaw and kicked Valecar in the ribs, sending him flying—but it only bought seconds.

Lucifer fell to one knee.



Blood dripped from his side. His vision blurred. He tried to stand—

A shadow bolt slammed into his shoulder.

Valecar landed with a low laugh, one hand still glowing.

"Still trying to act like a king," he said.

Up on the cliffs, Valena, Zane, and Dracula watched with sharpened eyes.

Valena stepped forward. "He’s hurt. We need to go."

Dracula placed a hand on her shoulder. "Not yet—"

Another explosion shook the air as a wave of black fire erupted in the square.

Zane clenched his fists. "That’s enough."

But before any of them could move, figures dropped down around them.

Five vampires. Nobles. Subordinates of the old guard.

Valecar’s loyalists.

They blocked the path down to the town.

"Stand aside," Valena warned.

"No," one of them said. "Not this time."

Dracula’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes gleamed. "You protect a traitor?"

Another one spoke. "We protect the realm. He’s not fit to lead if he falls this easily."

Valena took a step forward, hand already glowing with curse sigils.

Zane’s voice was colder now. "Move or bleed."

But none of them moved.

Below, Lucifer was on one knee again.

Valecar approached slowly, eyes gleaming with fury. His chest heaved with exhaustion, but his expression was filled with something else.

Spite.

Resentment.

He looked down at Lucifer like he had waited centuries for this.

Lucifer forced himself upright.

One leg trembling.

Blood soaked the side of his coat.

He spat red onto the ground and stared up at Valecar.

"You think this makes you worthy?" he said, voice low.

Valecar didn’t answer.

Lucifer coughed. "I’ve fought monsters you can’t even pronounce. I’ve bled in planes that don’t follow time. I’ve lost pieces of myself that will never come back."

His eyes locked onto Valecar’s. Crimson met crimson.

"And even now... even like this..."

He took a step forward, trembling—but upright.

"...you’re still just a shadow."

Valecar’s expression twitched.

Lucifer didn’t stop.



"My father said you were a mistake. A low-life given power by pity. A child playing dress-up in a dead man’s crown."

Valecar’s fists clenched.

Lucifer’s voice sharpened.

"You were never meant to rule. You weren’t born of the blood. You weren’t chosen. You’re not anything."

A pause.

Then—

"You’re a fucking joke."

Valecar’s aura exploded.

He let out a roar and raised both hands—power flooding them like firestorm veins—and hurled everything he had forward in one final strike.

Aimed for Lucifer’s heart.

And in that moment—

Everything went still.