Velma erged from the summoning circle, her blazing form spreading waves of heat across the battlefield.
Her crimson eyes locked onto the lump of writhing vines before her—a perfect outlet for the fury she'd kept buried for far too long.
Even as an undead bound under Evan's banner, she had retained her mories from the ti she first lived… and died.
That sliver of consciousness had kept her sane—a thin thread of hope that one day she might resurrect, reclaim her authority as a Ruler Candidate, regain her freedom, and stand tall again.
But that hope… had long been reduced to dust.
Crushed, shredded, and torn apart until even the dream of it was gone.
Because Velma had seen sothing no Ruler Candidate was ever ant to see.
The truth—that all of them, every last "Candidate," were nothing but placeholders.
Pawns filling the field for the arrival of the real one.
She had seen it all with her own eyes, through the void of the storage space where she was sealed.
When Evan stepped into the Candidate Grounds, she'd been terrified—certain his death would an her own erasure.
Yet what she witnessed instead was... extraordinary.
He survived.
He escaped—without bleeding a single drop.
As if so unseen hand guided his every step.
That was when she knew: soone was helping him.
Her suspicions only deepened when she saw the ancient Monolith. The sa one that had granted her what she was now.
But the Monolith hadn't given its blessing to her—it had chosen him—her master.
Even when that Authority was later erased, she had felt relief, thinking he'd failed to obtain the Candidate's proof.
That... had been her greatest mistake.
She realised it the mont the Monolith turned blood-red and the entire realm began to tremble.
Instead of teleporting the Candidates away, the opposite occurred; it dragged the whole world sowhere else—sowhere beyond mortal reach.
The aura that poured out that day could have split her soul apart.
She rembered cowering like the other undead, unable to move, barely able to think.
Whatever realm Evan was taken to... was not a place beings like her could even exist in.
Still, she saw everything.
That sacred space—it overflowed with Death energy so pure it made her soul tremble with ecstasy.
For a brief mont, she had felt she could cross the veil of the gods themselves.
But there was sothing else there.
A second power. Darker. Heavier. The energy of the Abyss itself.
To her, it was poison. To him—it was a blessing.
She watched in disbelief as her master bathed in that vile force, as if it were cleansing him rather than corrupting him.
And then… she saw sothing she should never have seen.
A small figure cloaked in mist.
Eyes sharper than spears of light, capable of erasing her entire existence with a thought.
She hadn't even seen him clearly, but one na echoed in her mind.
A na she'd heard whispered in Evan's presence, long ago.
A... sothing. Aiden? No—Arven.
The mont that na resurfaced in her thoughts, those piercing eyes turned toward her.
Straight through Evan's shadow.Straight into her soul.
Her body went cold.
The sa chill she'd felt when she first ca here returned, crawling down her spine like death itself.
And then she understood why, back on the Undead Mountain, she had glimpsed that hazy figure beside Evan.
That being—Arven—had been with him all along.
Even those in the highest Expanse couldn't rival such an existence.
They had been fools—every so-called Candidate, every self-proclaid master of the Nexus.
While the true ruler was being moulded right here… under the guidance of sothing absolute.
She accepted her fate soon after.
Information she was never supposed to know had been carved into her mind, shattering every remaining illusion of freedom.
Serving him from the shadows was no punishnt. It was survival.
It was a purpose.
And when Evan lost consciousness earlier, she had almost broken that command.
She had nearly erged to save him, fearing the eagle might harm him by accident.
That's when she t him.
Arven.The one who already knew everything about her.
He didn't need to threaten her. His presence alone erased any notion of refusal.
In his gaze, she saw what awaited defiance—complete soul annihilation.
So she accepted.
Velma, once a Ruler Candidate, now stood reborn as his loyal summon.
A servant of the abyssal fla.
A weapon of the true heir.
And her mission was simple—eliminate the Lord before her.
Her wings unfurled.
Ashen light scattered.
Peyndral's hulking body trembled beneath her shadow.
He tried to mask his fear with pride.
"Don't think scaring will let you win easily!" he roared, vines erupting from the ground.
"I am the Sole Lord of this Expanse—Peyndral, the Nature Spirit! Don't underestimate !"
But before those vines could reach her, they turned to dust.
Her flas devoured them instantly, reducing everything they touched into grey ash.
Velma hovered in silence, her gaze calm, unbothered.
Even in undeath, her mastery over fla eclipsed her forr self—and far beyond Evan's.
Behind her, spheres of molten dusk began to condense.
One after another, they spiralled into existence, pure Ashen Dusk Flas radiating heat that made the ground ripple.
They streaked forward, each one faster than the last.
Peyndral tried to dodge, using boulders as cover, but his massive body was too slow.
The orbs crashed into him—half his form burned away in an instant.
The rest he tore off himself, screaming, desperate to save what little remained.
It didn't matter.
The battle was already decided the mont Evan summoned her.
....
On the other side of the field, Evan stood before Sylen, whose eyes were locked on Velma's form.
He looked dazed—half terrified, half awestruck.
"What's wrong?" Evan smirked. "Thinking of surrendering? Go ahead, it'll save the effort."
Sylen's gaze drifted between his burning lord, his fallen allies, and Evan. Then… he laughed.
A hollow, broken laugh.
"Hahahaha… ah, I get it now."
Evan frowned. "What's so funny? I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already losing your mind."
Sylen's grin wavered, but his eyes burned with sothing deeper—grief, rage, envy.
"No… I'm just laughing at myself," he said quietly.
"You already know my identity, so let save us both the act. I was created—a test subject, nothing more. No talent. No gifts. Just another prototype that should've been destroyed."
He took a breath, voice trembling between laughter and pain.
"They made after five failures. I was the only one who lived. The perfect clone… or so I thought.
But my creator didn't stop there. He made others. True monsters.
Beings even you couldn't stand against if they faced you now."
His tone cracked.
"I was nothing. A disposable tool. Until I t these idiots—and Elya. For once, my life ant sothing.
And then you ca. You and Peyndral… you took everything from ."
His eyes glistened.
"I just wanted to be called a genius once. To be admired.
But even that… you took away."
He stepped closer, trembling. "If your goal is my real body, then use . Let help. I'll show you where my brothers are. Where he is."
He forced a weak smile.
"I can see it in your eyes too—the sa look. You want to protect soone. You're not heartless.
So please… let live."
Sylen's voice trembled with emotion, every word heavy as if he were fighting tears.
He waited, searching Evan's eyes for even the faintest reaction.
Evan tilted his head. "Are you done, or is there sothing else you want to say?"
"So… nothing I said affects you? Not even a little?" Sylen asked, his composure faltering.
Evan gave a short, humourless laugh. "Nah. Not even close."
He leaned forward, his tone dropping into cold disinterest.
"You think spilling your tragic little story about being a failed clone will make take you along? You want to join to kill your brothers and your main body? Seriously?"
He shook his head slowly.
"You couldn't even finish Beyth alone, and now you want to tag along like you matter. You're a burden—one no one would want to carry. Even if you joined forces with your other selves, you'd still die by soone else or by their own.
But dying by my hands? That's probably the only useful thing you'll ever do.
As for your so-called Monstrous Brothers, they will follow you soon. I have obliterated many Talents; they will face the sa end, too.
Evan's eyes darkened.
"At least then, you'll help kill your brothers and that main body of yours who thinks he can stroll into this world and take over.
Nah… I'll end you here. Then I'll hunt him down next."
He gave a faint smirk.
"So just die peacefully. And if, by so miracle, your soul gets another chance, rember—don't ss with soone out of your league."
Sylen's trembling stopped. His eyes hardened.
"Fine… it was aningless trying to appeal to you. I hoped you'd see reason, but you've forced my hand."
He closed his eyes.
"Let show you the power I can borrow from my original body, which I don't want to use no matter what."
A strange current surged through him, flowing from nowhere and everywhere at once. His wounds sealed, muscles hardened, and energy began pouring through him like a rising storm.
Arven's voice thundered in Evan's head.
"Kid! Seal the place now! If that power exceeds his limit, he'll reach power equal to the Tier 1 killing himself in the process—and take you with him!"
"Oh no, you don't…" Evan muttered, his tone almost lazy as he raised his hand.
"."
A low hum spread from his body. The ground rippled, and a black sphere expanded outward, swallowing the two of them in a cage of shifting void.
The energy flow inside Sylen froze instantly.
He gasped, eyes wide as his link to his main body snapped like a severed cord.
"N-No way… no Tier 0 can hold such power, you—are you from that place?" His voice broke into disbelief.
Evan said nothing. His silence spoke louder than words.
Sylen's face contorted. "You can't be! If you were, you wouldn't need tricks like this! It must be an artifact…" He tried convincing himself, slashing the dark barrier in desperation.
His strike vanished into the void like a pebble sinking into an endless ocean.
"It's useless," Evan said flatly. "Breaking out requires Tier 3 power or higher. Or you kill first—whichever cos first."
Sylen clenched his teeth. "To hold such power… You really must be from there."
Then, his voice grew calm, almost confident.
"But I've recovered enough. With my main body's strength borrowed, defeating you isn't impossible."
Evan raised his sword, eyes dim and steady.
"Don't mistake for whoever you think I am. All that matters is this—you're dying here."
"Then let's make it interesting." Sylen steadied his stance. "If I win, you'll grant my request—help kill my main body. If I lose, my life is yours."
Evan's gaze didn't waver. "Outco won't change. But fine, I'll play along. Don't regret it later—you won't even have a second to realise you've lost."
He surged forward, black aura trailing behind him like mist.
Sylen smirked. "Then let's see if you still sound that confident when the tables turn."
His blade flashed.
'Let's test him first,' Sylen thought. 'He's a mage—his defence can't be that high.'
He attacked in a blur.
But each strike t only air. Evan's movents were smooth, almost casual, dodging with an ease that made Sylen's fury rise.
In monts, Sylen had launched a dozen attacks without landing a single hit.
'Fast and strong… his defence must be weak,' Sylen calculated, trying to rationalise it.
'A few heavy strikes should do it.'
But as he rembered the sight of his own team struggling against Evan's summons, frustration boiled in his chest.
He didn't have ti to play around.
"You leave no choice, Undead Mage," he said coldly, his aura spiking.
"Today, you'll witness sothing no living soul has seen and survived yet."
He spread his arms, silver light beginning to burn from his veins.
"Authority Release—"
The ground trembled. The air twisted.
"."
The world dimd under a rising pale radiance.
And for the first ti, Evan's eyes flickered with faint interest.
To be continued…
What is Sylen's Authority?
What power does Lunaris Dominion truly hold?
Add this to your library and stay ready for the next chapter—where Evan faces an Authority for the first ti in this life.
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