"I will follow you."
The chamber fell silent. The other disciples turned to stare at her, their wide eyes filled with confusion and surprise. Even Sheila and Manco froze beside her, their faces mirroring the shock that rippled through the group.
Lucavion, however, tilted his head slightly, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing his features before his smirk returned. "Oh?"
"I said," Ilyana repeated, lifting her chin, "I will follow you."
Lucavion's dark eyes t hers, sharp and assessing, as though he were peering into the depths of her resolve. "And why would you do that?" he asked, his tone curious, almost teasing.
"Because you saved ," Ilyana replied, her voice firm despite the faint tremor in her chest. "You saved all of us when no one else could—or would. Whether you did it for a reason or not doesn't matter. My mother…" She swallowed hard, her voice softening as she continued. "My mother taught never to forget those who have extended a hand when I was in need."
Her gaze didn't waver from his. "I will repay this debt. I don't know how yet, and I don't know what I can offer, but I won't ignore the life you've given back to us."
Lucavion stared at her for a long mont, his smirk fading into sothing quieter—more thoughtful. Beside him, Vitaliara's golden eyes glimred faintly as she regarded Ilyana with a soft, knowing gaze.
[She's sincere,] Vitaliara said gently, her voice resonating in Lucavion's mind. [Her heart is strong, even if she doesn't see it yet.]
Lucavion let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head faintly. "You're a stubborn one," he said, his voice carrying the faintest edge of amusent. "I didn't ask for followers, you know."
"I don't care," Ilyana replied simply, her tone unwavering. "This is my decision. I'll follow you—not because you asked to, but because I owe you my life. And that debt will be repaid."
Lucavion's dark eyes lingered on Ilyana, studying her as though he could peel back the layers of her resolve and see what lay beneath. For a mont, the smirk on his lips faltered, replaced by sothing quieter—curiosity, perhaps. Or maybe disbelief.
And then it returned, sharp and amused, like the edge of a blade that had tasted far too much blood.
"Even though I'm soone with this much blood on my hands?" he asked, his voice calm, yet tinged with sothing darker.
Ilyana's gaze didn't waver, her eyes eting his steadily despite the way her chest tightened at his words. She could feel the weight of what he ant, the unspoken truth of what he had done—the bodies strewn across the Crimson Serpent Sect's halls, the ruthless precision of his blade. He was a force of chaos and death, wrapped in the casual guise of a smirking young man.
"Yes," she replied firmly, her voice unwavering. "Even though you have this much blood on your hands."
Lucavion tilted his head, the faint amusent in his expression deepening. "Even though I'm soone who'll be in trouble a lot?" he pressed, his tone growing lighter, almost teasing now. "Soone who will constantly put himself in dangerous situations?"
"Yes."
"Even though," he continued, his smirk sharpening, "staying near ans you'll be targeted too? You'll end up in the line of fire just for being my acquaintance?"
"Yes," Ilyana repeated without hesitation.
The simple word echoed through the chamber, soft but resolute, ringing louder than any shout. Lucavion paused, as if waiting for her to falter, to take back her words. But Ilyana stood her ground, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she held his gaze.
"This is my choice," she said quietly, her voice steady as a fla. "Whatever cos from it—whatever danger, whatever blood—I accept it. I owe you my life, and I will repay that debt."
Lucavion stared at her, his smirk softening into sothing more subtle, more genuine. The faint flicker of surprise in his eyes disappeared, replaced by sothing harder to define. Respect, perhaps, or a glimr of sothing he wouldn't na.
"Stubborn," he muttered, shaking his head with a faint chuckle. "Absolutely stubborn."
[She's serious, Lucavion,] Vitaliara said softly, perched still and silent on his shoulder. Her golden eyes glead as she watched Ilyana with quiet approval. [Don't dismiss her so easily.]
'Heh….Even though she looks fierce and admirable, that is not how the world works…..She is far too weak to stand by my side.'
Lucavion's gaze lingered on Ilyana, his smirk sharpening as his dark eyes bore into hers. For a mont, silence stretched between them, as though he were weighing her very soul. Then he spoke, his words carrying the weight of finality.
"You're too weak to stand by my side," he said, his tone blunt, cutting through the fragile resolve she had wrapped around herself. "If you really want to repay , then you must get stronger."
Ilyana flinched, his words striking deep. Yet she didn't break. Her fists clenched at her sides as her jaw tightened, her gaze holding firm.
Lucavion said nothing more. He turned away, his coat sweeping behind him as he strode toward the grand chamber's exit. His boots echoed softly on the blood-streaked floor as he passed by the fallen elders, his sharp eyes scanning their remains with thodical precision. He crouched briefly over each body, plucking the spatial rings from their fingers with casual indifference—one by one.
"Even if we're weak now…" Ilyana called after him, her voice trembling but steady, "we can still be a help to you!"
Lucavion didn't pause, his smirk audible in his voice. "With the way you are, you won't."
The words cut deep, and yet there was no cruelty in them—just a cold, matter-of-fact truth. Ilyana's chest tightened as she watched him, frustration bubbling up within her.
"But who knows?" Lucavion said, his voice carrying as he straightened and resud walking. "Maybe the next ti we et, you'll be different."
"Wait!" Ilyana shouted, her voice louder this ti, filled with defiance and resolve. "I will repay you, no matter what! Just wait and see!"
Lucavion tilted his head slightly as he reached the far end of the hall. Though he didn't turn around, the faint sound of his chuckle drifted back to her. "Heh… I'll be waiting."
Just as his figure was about to disappear into the shadows of the corridor, sothing struck Ilyana like a sharp jolt. His na. She had never learned his na.
"You!" she shouted desperately. "How can I find you?"
Lucavion paused, his silhouette frad by the flickering light of the torches. For a mont, he said nothing, and then his voice cut through the silence, calm and clear.
"The na?"
"Yes!" Ilyana replied breathlessly. "Tell your na!"
Lucavion glanced over his shoulder, his face still hidden in shadow, though the faint curve of his smirk was unmistakable.
"Lucavion."
The na hung in the air, as though it carried a weight all its own.
"Lu… ca… vi… on?" Ilyana repeated slowly, tasting the na as though it were foreign and familiar all at once.
Before she could say anything more, Lucavion turned away fully and stepped into the darkness beyond. His figure disappeared as silently as it had co, leaving only the echo of his na and the lingering scent of blood in his wake.
"Lucavion…" Ilyana whispered, her voice soft but resolute as she stared at the spot where he had disappeared. The silence of the chamber seed heavier now, the absence of his presence like a void left behind.
Her hands curled into fists as her resolve hardened into sothing solid, unshakable. Her voice, though quiet, carried with it a promise—one born from grief, gratitude, and unyielding determination.
"I will make sure… I will repay it back," she vowed, her eyes never leaving the darkened corridor. "No matter what."
The disciples behind her looked on in silence, watching as their young leader stood tall, her expression set with purpose.
And in her mind, the na echoed like a beacon.
Lucavion.
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