Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra-Chapter 583: Who are you ? (2)

Lucavion's breath steadied. His hands, once trembling from the aftershock of the artifact's vision, now felt still. Purposeful.

So this is where you've been hiding.

The image of the fortress burned into his mind. A place even Draven hadn't uncovered. The artifact had done more than just reveal the location—it had linked him, however briefly, to his prey.

Lucavion had felt it.

For just a moment, the faintest pulse of presence—a tether between himself and Aldric Veltorin.

And that was all he needed.

Now, he was here.

The city streets were a blur beneath his feet as he moved, the echo of the past pressing against his ribs, urging him forward. His body was taut with tension, coiled like a blade that had been waiting for years to be unsheathed.

He had waited for this moment.

For this chance.

To cut down the ghost of the past.

The wind howled as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, his steps weightless, silent. The streets of Varenthia sprawled beneath him, tangled veins of alleyways and narrow roads. But his focus was singular.

Aldric was on the move.

Lucavion could see him now, slipping through the web of conflict with effortless speed.

The war had begun, but Aldric wasn't defending. He wasn't hiding in the fortress that even Draven had failed to uncover.

No—

He was hunting.

And that was fine.

Because so was Lucavion.

He exhaled, feeling the anticipation simmer just beneath his skin. The hunt was over.

And the kill was about to begin.

*****

CLANK!

The moment their weapons clashed, Lucavion knew—Aldric had already sensed him.

But he didn't care.

Didn't care that the man was skilled. Didn't care that he was older, faster, stronger.

Didn't care that this was the same monster who had once left him bleeding in the dirt, unable to fight back.

Because this time, he was here on his own terms.

Aldric slid backward, his expression unreadable. His grip on his spear remained firm, controlled, but there was something else in his stance now—

Interest.

Lucavion barely took a breath before he lunged again, his estoc slicing through the night air with terrifying precision. Fast. Precise. Unrelenting.

Aldric blocked—barely. Sparks flickered between them, the ringing of steel slicing through the city's distant chaos.

Lucavion saw the slight shift in Aldric's expression, the flicker of curiosity in those crimson eyes.

He doesn't recognize me.

Lucavion's grip tightened around the hilt of his estoc.

Aldric's eyes flickered—assessing, calculating—but not recognizing.

Not remembering.

Lucavion felt something crack.

He doesn't remember?

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The bastard who had carved a scar across his face. The man who had slaughtered his second family—the only ones who had reached for him when he had nothing.

And he didn't even remember?

Lucavion's breath came slow, deep. Controlled—but barely.

Aldric's stance remained steady, his crimson eyes watching him with calm, unreadable curiosity.

As if Lucavion was just another nameless opponent.

As if their history was meaningless.

As if those lives—the ones stolen, the ones he had carved from existence—were nothing.

Lucavion's blood boiled.

His fingers twitched. His muscles coiled, every nerve in his body screaming for release.

Kill him.

The command in his mind was instant, unfiltered. A raw instinct, a fire consuming everything.

His vision blurred at the edges.

I was the one left behind.

I was the one who buried them.

I was the one who had to crawl forward, piece myself back together.

And you—

"You don't remember?"

Lucavion's voice cut through the air, low and sharp.

Aldric blinked. A flicker of something in his gaze—mild curiosity, like a man studying a puzzle whose pieces didn't quite fit.

Lucavion exhaled.

And then—

His bloodlust surged.

Like a dam breaking, the air around him grew heavy, thick with suffocating pressure.

Aldric's expression finally shifted.

His grip on his spear tightened ever so slightly.

Lucavion barely noticed.

He was already moving.

—SWOOSH!

His estoc struck with terrifying speed, a blur of steel aimed at Aldric's throat. The attack was not precise. Not clean.

It was pure killing intent.

Aldric blocked.

—CLANK!

The force of Aldric's spear sent a shuddering impact through Lucavion's arm. The estoc's blade quivered under the pressure, steel grinding against steel as the raw power behind Aldric's strike forced him to give ground. The wind howled between them, and Lucavion barely had time to react before—

—WHOOSH!

Aldric twisted his spear, using the force of their locked weapons to pivot his body, the air distorting around him as he surged forward. Lucavion's instincts flared—he ducked, the spear's tip whistling past his ear, carving through empty air where his throat had been a heartbeat before.

Fast. Too fast.

Aldric didn't stop. His footwork was flawless, his movements seamless. The moment Lucavion dodged, the spear snapped downward like a viper, aimed at his exposed ribs. He barely managed to parry, but the impact rattled his bones, forcing him backward again.

—THUD!

His back hit the stone railing of the rooftop. The wind affinity was clear in every strike, every movement—Aldric wasn't just strong. He was weightless, swift, untouchable. His spear struck again, and Lucavion had to roll to the side, feeling the force of the attack split the stone behind him.

'Tch.'

"You…."

Lucavion's voice was taut, sharp as the blade in his grip. But Aldric—that bastard—

He was smiling.

No—

He was laughing.

"Those eyes…"

Aldric's crimson gaze locked onto Lucavion's with eerie stillness. His expression, for the first time since the fight began, shifted—not with tension, not with calculation—

But recognition.

Lucavion's breathing hitched.

The scar on his face. His black, empty eyes.

It was sinking in.

Aldric exhaled slowly, his lips curling. A breath—then,

"Ahahahahahaha!"

The sound cut through the night air like a blade.

Lucavion's grip on his estoc tightened as Aldric tilted his head back, his laughter ringing through the empty streets of Varenthia.

A genuine laugh. Deep, full-bodied.

Like this was amusing.

Like this was funny.

Like it wasn't the most important moment of Lucavion's life—

Like it wasn't the culmination of years of suffering, of clawing his way forward, of training until his body broke just to get this chance.

Aldric's laughter slowed, his smirk widening as he finally looked back at Lucavion. His eyes glowed with something unreadable—excitement? Amusement?

Mockery.

"Who would have thought?"

Lucavion's blood burned. His muscles tensed, coiled so tight it felt like he might snap.

Aldric took a step forward, his spear resting lightly in his grip. His grin didn't fade, his voice dripping with mirth.

"You are that kid from the battlefield."

Aldric's voice carried an almost delighted amusement, his smirk widening as he studied Lucavion like a long-lost curiosity.

Lucavion didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't breathe.

The words scraped against his mind like a rusted blade.

That kid.

That kid.

As if he had been nothing.

As if the ones who had died—Garret, Mateo, Felix, Elias, Clara—had been nothing.

As if Aldric had simply stepped over their bodies and forgotten them.

Aldric exhaled through his nose, shifting his spear in his grip. "Hah. I almost feel bad for not remembering." His crimson eyes gleamed, sharp with something wicked.

Aldric chuckled, low and deep, as if he was savoring the moment. His crimson eyes gleamed with something dark—satisfaction, perhaps. Or maybe just cruel amusement.

Then, his lips parted, and the words that had been burned into Lucavion's memory all those years ago slipped free.

"The boy with the scarred eye."

Lucavion's breath stilled.

Aldric tilted his head slightly, as if considering, then continued.

"What is your name?"

Lucavion's grip on his estoc tightened. His gaze was cold. Silent.

But Aldric didn't need him to answer.

Because he already knew.

"Lucavion."

A slow smirk.

"I remember your name."

Lucavion's stomach twisted. A flash of heat crawled under his skin, searing through his veins like wildfire.

That day on the battlefield, Aldric had known his name. He had looked him in the eyes.

And yet, until now, it hadn't mattered.

"You have gotten stronger, really."

Lucavion said nothing.

Aldric's grin widened.

"Are you here to take revenge?"

The question hung in the air, heavy between them.

Lucavion exhaled, slow and measured, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around his weapon.

Aldric chuckled.

"If so, come." His eyes glowed, anticipation threading into his voice. "It has been a while since my blood boiled."

Then—

He lifted his right hand.

His fingers brushed against the pitch-black bracelet encircling his wrist.

And in the next moment—

Darkness erupted.

The armor consumed him.

Black plates, seamless and shifting, wrapped over his body in an instant. The air around him thickened, the sheer weight of his presence suffocating.

Lucavion's heartbeat remained steady.

No hesitation. No fear.

The sight of Aldric standing there, clad in midnight steel, his blood-red eyes glowing beneath his helmet—

It didn't shake him.

It only confirmed what he already knew.

This time—

He wasn't the boy who lost.

This time—

He would kill Aldric Veltorin.