The faint smell of old herbs and lingering incense filled the air as Lucien walked toward his uncle's quarters. The eastern wing of the Arkanveil compound was quieter than the rest, a place where shadows seemed to linger even in daylight. Servants bowed deeply as he passed, their eyes averted—not merely out of respect for the young master, but from the ingrained caution that came with entering Raven Arkanveil's domain.
Raven Arkanveil, the man who had once been a powerhouse on the battlefield—the Shadow Vanguard who could cut through enemy lines like a phantom blade—sat quietly in his private garden. His presence, once overwhelming, was now subdued, though his eyes remained sharp as obsidian daggers. A blanket covered his legs despite the warm afternoon, a silent testament to his condition.
Fifteen years had passed since that fateful day on the Plains of Mourning, when the Demon General Vorath had unleashed corrupted mana that seared through protective barriers like they were paper. Fifteen years since Raven had thrown himself between that attack and his brother Raelan, saving the current family head but suffering a wound that no healer in the Four Kingdoms could fully mend.
Lucien approached without hesitation, his footsteps deliberate on the stone path.
"Nephew," Raven acknowledged, his voice carrying the rasp that had become familiar after years of pain. "Twice in one month. I'm honored."
A hint of sarcasm colored the words, but there was no true bite behind them. Raven had always been direct, even before the injury that had confined him to this garden and his quarters.
"Uncle," Lucien replied with a respectful nod. "The cherry blossoms are particularly vibrant today."
Raven's gaze flicked to the trees, their pink petals drifting lazily in the gentle breeze. "Don't waste your silver tongue on me, boy. What brings you here?"
From the shadows of a nearby pavilion, Raelan emerged. The current head of the Arkanveil family moved with the quiet authority that had cemented their position among the noble houses. His presence here was unexpected but not surprising—he often visited his brother during the quieter hours of the day, bearing the weight of unspoken guilt.
"Father," Lucien acknowledged with a slight bow.
"My son," Raelan replied, his voice carrying the formal tone he used in public settings. "I didn't expect to find you here."
"I came with a purpose," Lucien said, reaching into his robe.
He held out a small crystalline vial containing a luminescent liquid that shifted between crimson and gold—the SSS-grade healing potion that Ignis had wasted after getting beaten by Bhulla. The sunlight caught it, sending prismatic reflections dancing across the garden stones.
Raven's eyes narrowed, recognition dawning immediately. As one of the family's former elite warriors, he could sense the potency of what Lucien offered.
"This... you use it," Raven said after a long pause, eyes narrowing slightly. "Such items are rare beyond measure. Your path requires every advantage."
There was no mistaking the value of what Lucien held. An SSS-grade healing potion could fetch a price that would bankrupt minor kingdoms, its creation requiring ingredients from the deepest dungeons and knowledge held by only the most accomplished alchemists.
"I insist, Uncle," Lucien replied calmly, his voice firm but respectful. "That wound has lingered too long. The family needs all its strength gathered for what's to come."
Raelan, standing nearby, also hesitated, his brow furrowing. "Lucien… Are you sure? That potion—"
"Is exactly where it needs to be," Lucien finished, extending the vial closer to his uncle.
Something unspoken passed between nephew and uncle—a moment of understanding that transcended words. Raven had been a warrior first, a tactician second. He recognized the look in Lucien's eyes—calculation, certainty, and something else... something that spoke of knowledge beyond his years.
Raven finally accepted the vial with a hand that trembled slightly—not from emotion, but from the constant pain that had been his companion for a decade and a half. He uncorked it carefully, the scent of celestial herbs and distilled mana filling the garden.
"To the future of our house," he said quietly, raising the vial in a toast before consuming the contents in a single swallow.
The effect was immediate and profound. As the potion coursed through his body, light flickered beneath his skin, tracing the pathways of his veins like liquid starlight. The demonic mana injury—one that had scarred his bones after protecting Raelan on the battlefield—began to unravel like a knot finally coming loose.
Crimson energy dispersed from his skin, dissipating into the air like smoke from a dying fire. The corrupted essence that had anchored itself to his life force dissolved under the purifying power of the potion. For the first time in decades, Raven breathed freely, his lungs expanding without the familiar stab of pain.
The transformation was visible to all present. Color returned to Raven's pallid complexion. His shoulders straightened, no longer burdened by constant agony. The aura around him, once fragmented and restrained, flowed smoothly now, growing stronger with each passing moment.
Raelan turned away, his eyes misted with emotion he rarely displayed. "This… was one of my greatest regrets." His voice barely carried above the rustling leaves. "That day on the Plains... I should have been faster, stronger."
"And I would make the same choice again," Raven replied, standing for the first time without support. He flexed his hands, feeling strength return to muscles long weakened. "It was my duty as your brother, as an Arkanveil."
The two brothers shared a look that communicated decades of complicated emotions—pride, regret, loyalty, and the unbreakable bond of shared blood and battlefield memories.
Raven, now fully healed, stood to his full impressive height and looked at Lucien with a complicated gaze that mixed gratitude with suspicion. "Thank you, brat," he said, the familiar term of endearment carrying new warmth. "Though I wonder what game you're playing."
Lucien merely smiled, offering neither confirmation nor denial. "No games, Uncle. Only preparation."
"For what?" Raelan asked, his leader's instinct sensing the currents beneath his son's actions.
"For whatever comes," Lucien replied enigmatically. "The world is changing faster than most realize."
A testing pulse of power emanated from Raven as he assessed his restored abilities. The garden trembled slightly, fallen leaves rising into the air before settling again. His eyes widened in surprise.
"My power... it's not only restored. It's greater than before," he observed, a hint of his old fierce smile returning. "The injury was holding back my advancement all these years."
---
[SYSTEM INTERFACE – ACCESS GRANTED]
Name: Raven Arkanveil
Race: Human (Arkanveil Shadow Line)
Age: 48 Years
Rank: Quasi SSS (Level 89)
---
Traits:
• [Shadow Sovereign – SS+ Grade] (Recovering)
• [Phantom Step – SS Grade]
• [Pain Tolerance – S+ Grade] (Enhanced)
---
Skills:
• Shadow Blade Mastery – Lv. 9 (996/1000)
• Silent Elimination – Lv. 8
• Phantom Strike – Lv. 7
• Pain Conversion – Lv. 9 (Enhanced)
• Strategic Assessment – Lv. 6
---
System Note:
→ Demonic corruption fully purged. Advancement path restored.
→ Shadow element affinity increased by 35%.
→ [Shadow Sovereign] trait recovering to full potential (estimated time: 7 days).
→ Combat effectiveness at 87% of prime condition. Full recovery expected within fortnight.
---
"I return to command the family's elite Shadow Corps immediately," Raven announced, his voice carrying the authority that had once made enemy legions tremble. "They've grown soft under Tavrin's leadership."
Raelan nodded, relief evident in his expression. "They'll be ecstatic to have you back. As am I, brother."
As Raven moved to leave the garden, his steps already regaining their predatory grace, he paused beside Lucien. "When you're ready to tell me what you're truly planning, you know where to find me," he said quietly. "Whatever storm you're preparing for, remember that shadows can be your strongest allies."
Lucien inclined his head respectfully. "I'll remember, Uncle."
---
Later that day, as the sun began its descent toward the western mountains, Lucien visited his elder brother, Aleron Arkanveil. Unlike the quiet solemnity of Raven's garden, Aleron's training yard echoed with the sound of steel against steel, of controlled breathing and precise footwork.
Aleron, seven years Lucien's senior, was everything an Arkanveil knight should be—powerful, disciplined, and utterly devoted to the family legacy. Where Lucien's path had diverged into realms of knowledge and arcane mysteries, Aleron had embraced the traditional warrior's path with singular focus.
As Lucien approached, Aleron finished his routine, his blade singing through the air one final time before returning to its sheath. Sweat glistened on his brow despite the cool evening air.
"Brother," Aleron greeted him, reaching for a towel. "Come to challenge me again? Last time didn't end well for you, as I recall."
A competitive smirk crossed his features, referencing their last sparring match weeks ago. What he didn't know was how much Lucien had held back, how carefully he had maintained the illusion of being the weaker sibling.
"Not today," Lucien replied, a small smile playing on his lips. He held out a shining pill that pulsed with inner light—the same Trait Evolution Pill Ignis had used to dramatic effect. "I brought you something more valuable than another defeat."
Aleron's eyes widened as he recognized the object. Trait Evolution Pills were the stuff of legends, capable of permanently transforming a cultivator's innate abilities to a higher state of being.
"You use it," Aleron said after a moment, his tone uncertain as he pushed Lucien's hand away gently. "Your journey is far more important than mine. I'll advance through traditional means."
There was no jealousy in his words, only the sincere belief that his younger brother's mysterious path somehow held greater significance for their family's future.
"I said take it, brother," Lucien insisted, his voice carrying an unusual edge of command. "The Arkanveil eldest should be the strongest among us."
Something unspoken passed between them—acknowledgment, perhaps, that regardless of birth order, they both knew Lucien had chosen a different kind of power than the straightforward strength valued by their lineage.
Reluctantly, Aleron accepted the pill, studying its radiant surface. "This could advance me beyond the A-rank barrier," he said quietly, the implications clear in his voice. Such a leap would normally require years, if not decades, of cultivation.
"Precisely," Lucien replied.
With a nod of resolution, Aleron swallowed the pill. The effect was immediate and spectacular. A searing wave of blood-red aura surged from within him, cracking the stone beneath his feet and sending ripples through the training yard's barriers. Power erupted from his form as his Trait evolved, transforming at the fundamental level.
The once mighty [Blood Knight – SS+] now transformed into the [Blood Dominator – SSS] trait, a difference not merely of degree but of kind.
---
[SYSTEM INTERFACE – ACCESS GRANTED]
Name: Aleron Arkanveil
Race: Human (Arkanveil Core)
Age: 21 Years
Level: 53
Rank: A-Ranker
---
Traits:
• Blood Dominator – SSS Grade
• Iron Will – S Grade
Skills:
• Sword Aura Mastery – Lv. 9
• Combat Intuition – Lv. 7
• Blood Pressure – Lv. 6
Storage Capacity: 120 Cubic Meters
---
System Note:
→ Trait [Blood Knight] evolved to [Blood Dominator – SSS Grade]
→ Within his domain, Aleron can manipulate and dominate the blood of enemies. Weaker foes can be killed instantly. Stronger ones may resist, but their blood rages uncontrollably, impairing their combat precision.
→ Blood sensing range increased to 300 meters.
→ Can now form solid blood constructs from ambient blood essence.
→ Advancement path restriction removed. Path to S-Rank open.
---
The air around him became thick, almost viscous with power. A violent crimson hue tinted the training yard as Aleron's aura stabilized at a new plateau. Bloodlust flared in his eyes, his pupils dilating as new instincts and abilities flooded his consciousness.
"This power..." he whispered, looking at his hands as veins of crimson light pulsed beneath his skin. "It's... intoxicating."
"And dangerous, if not properly controlled," Lucien cautioned, seemingly unaffected by the oppressive aura that had several nearby servants backing away in fear. "Your domain ability needs careful refinement."
Aleron nodded, visibly struggling to contain the surging energy within him. "I need... space. To adapt."
Understanding immediately, Aleron walked with measured steps into the family portal room adjacent to the training yard, each footfall leaving a faint red imprint that faded moments later. He stepped onto the activation circle, setting coordinates for the Crimson Desert training realm—a place where he could release his raging energy without risk to others.
Before the portal activated, he looked back at Lucien, his eyes now returned to normal but carrying a new depth. "Why?" he asked simply. "Why give this to me instead of using it yourself?"
Lucien's expression revealed nothing. "Because you're the sword of our family, brother. And I need that sword to be sharp for what's coming."
The portal flared to life, enveloping Aleron in shimmering energy before he could ask the obvious follow-up question—what exactly was coming that required such urgent preparation?
Lucien watched him vanish into the portal, a soft, satisfied smile on his lips. Another piece positioned perfectly on the board. The storm on the horizon grew closer with each passing day, but so too did the Arkanveil family's readiness to face it.
As he turned to leave, his hand unconsciously moved to his wrist, where the strange mark pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. Time was running short. There were still others who needed their burdens lifted, their powers restored.
And Lucien had promises to keep—to the living, to the dead, and to powers beyond both.