Chapter 102: Blinding the Eye Part 7: Internal Conflict
"Licht is in the centre, right?" Lukos said lazily to Maelys, spinning Lars's glaive as he walked. "We're getting close. I can sense his mind energy."
"Careful where you're swinging that thing!" Maelys replied, poking him in the back. "And yeah… he's over there."
They were silent for a bit longer, their eyes scanning the space around them. For a while, it was just them, the clack of their boots against the ground, and the occasional sound of their breath. Maelys shifted a bit closer to Lukos, who raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Lukos twirled the glaive idly between his fingers, his movements fluid, lazy, like a man who had never once in his life felt the weight of urgency.
"You know," he said, glancing at Maelys from the corner of his eye, "there are worse things to be reincarnated as."
Maelys huffed, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Yeah? And what's so great about it?"
Lukos smirked, shifting the glaive to rest against his shoulder. "This body isn't entirely awful. I mean, sure, the original owner is a disaster-"
"That's putting it mildly."
"-but I've had worse accommodations. He's got decent mind energy reserves, at least. A nice grimoire chock-full of spells. And a rather unfortunate amount of self-loathing, but that just makes it more fun for me."
Maelys cast him a sideways look. "You're kind of a bastard."
Lukos grinned. "Only kind of?"
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Silence stretched between them, the only sounds the clack of their boots against the stone floor and the occasional soft breath. It was an easy silence, the kind that had settled between them more often, before Licht's wedding.
She shifted a little closer to him, just enough for their shoulders to brush. Lukos felt it, but he didn't say anything. He only grinned to himself, lifting the glaive once more—
And then his body locked up.
His vision blurred, twisted, yanked backward into a swirling, suffocating vortex of pink. His breath hitched, his fingers spasmed around the glaive, and in the next instant…
He was elsewhere.
…
The mindscape was as he'd left it: warped, unstable, flickering pink and white like candlelight. It made his skin crawl.
And across from him, pacing like a caged beast, was the body's original owner.
Lars.
His hair was a mess, his eyes were wild, his mana was lashing out in jagged pulses, distorting the space around him. Fuming wasn't even the right word - he was seething, vibrating with fury, barely keeping himself from exploding outright.
"You absolute fucking parasite," Lars spat, voice raw with emotion. His hands clenched into fists, his whole frame trembling. "You killed Lucia."
Lukos barely blinked. "Freja killed that walking party trick. I barely did a thing."
Lars's teeth gnashed together audibly. "You trapped Iskra-"
"In a prism, yes," Lukos admitted. "But that wasn't entirely my doing either."
The way Lars's expression cracked, the sheer hatred in his gaze, was delightful.
"And worst of all-" Lars's voice dropped, trembling, breathless, a single thread away from snapping.
Lukos already knew what was coming.
"You're using my body to flirt with Maelys."
Ah. That wasn't what he had expected, but it was still fucking hilarious.
Lukos pressed a hand to his chest, mockingly scandalised. "Oh, you poor little thing." His smirk stretched, slow and deliberate. "And I'll do it again. And again. And again. While you watch. Like a little bitch."
The mindscape cracked.
Lars roared, and a barrage of spectral swords erupted from the air, raining down upon Lukos in a relentless, gleaming storm.
Lukos moved.
He ducked, twisted, sidestepped, slipping between the blades with an ease that was almost infuriating to witness. Not a single one touched him. Not a single one even came close. And then-
A flick of his fingers, and shimmering mental chains snapped into existence, wrapping around Lars's wrists and ankles, yanking him to the ground with a force that rattled through the space itself.
Lars struggled.
Fought.
Raged.
But Lukos just watched, head tilting slightly, his expression unreadable.
Silence stretched for a beat. Lars's defiant, rage-filled expression, shifted into something more muted, but still with the same underlying rage as he had previously had. Something laced with curiosity.
"Your magic," Lars muttered, breath ragged, teeth bared, "isn't like mine."
Lukos stretched his arms above his head, lazy and unbothered. "Oh? Do you want to study it, little mage? Is that what this tantrum is really about?"
Lars's eye twitched.
"What did you do to Iskra?" he said through clenched teeth.
Lukos inspected his nails. "Oh, she's in my grimoire now. And all of her spells?" He lifted his gaze, amusement flickering. "Mine."
Lars's expression twisted.
"You're a pathetic excuse for a human," Lukos continued, voice dipping into something colder, something laced with contempt. "Whining, screaming, throwing a fit over things you never had the power to stop." He stepped closer, his presence pressing down, suffocating. "Do you think your outrage matters?"
He exhaled sharply through his nose, his disgust practically tangible.
"I hate all humans."
His voice dropped into a venomous snarl, low and seething, like a curse spat between clenched teeth.
"Human. HUMAN! I hate the word, as I hate hell, all humans, and thee."
Lars snapped. "Mind Magic: Kraftvoller Gedankenstoß!"
Mana exploded in his palm, the mindscape howling with the force of it, pink light splintering through the space as he charged up an attack-
But Lukos was already gone.
The mindscape cracked, warped, faded. The attack Lars had been charging screamed harmlessly through empty air, whistling into nothingness.
…
Lukos's breath hitched as he snapped back into his body, the sensation of the real world slamming into him like a cold wave.
A slow, almost perverse smile spread across his face like an infectious disease, twisted glee filling every sinew, every pore, every bone and muscle in his body. The liberation that came with his revenge.
He loved making Lars feel pathetic. You know what they say about charity beginning at home…
"…What's wrong with you?" Maelys asked, watching him warily.
Lukos stretched, rolling his shoulders before flashing her an easy grin. "Nothing at all." He gestured ahead, glaive twirling between his fingers once more. "Come now, we shouldn't waste any more time."
And with that, he continued forward, Maelys watching him carefully before following suit.
"He's never said "come now" before," Maelys muttered. "Pretentious bastard."
…
The sky churned with rolling storm clouds, casting jagged shadows over the broken cliffs. Beneath them, the land sloped steep and sharp, cut by rivers that had long since dried into dead veins of stone. And perched upon the highest peak, wings spread wide like black banners of war, was a wyvern.
Its scales were a deep obsidian, its fangs as long as a broadsword. A single beat of its wings sent tremors down the mountainside, and its eyes, burning with raw malice, locked onto the five figures standing below.
Lukos was sat down, lazily playing with magic at his fingertips. His sister, Freja, was standing next to him, looking down with an expression of utter disgust.
"You're a joker," she said, her voice unable to conceal her exasperatedness. "There's a wyvern right there and you're playing with magic like a fledgeling."
"Speaking of fledgelings, how do you think Licht's is doing?" Lukos yawned, unbothered by the disrespectful comment.
"There are two of them," Freja replied through gritted teeth, "and that isn't my concern as of right now. THAT thing is."
The wyvern roared again, and this time, mana began to coalesce in its mouth. Freja replied by forming King Solomon's Sword and raising it.
"Weapons are so brutish, sis," Lukos replied, standing up and stretching, as if he'd just woken up from a nap.
"You say that only because you don't know how to use them," Freja replied, smirking.
"Whatever," Lukos muttered. "Mind Magic: Disruption Nova!"
The pink blast sped towards the wyvern, hitting it squarely in the chest and causing the mana beam it was about to charge up to explode in its mouth.
"Can't control its mana now, but it's still a strong beast, so be careful up close," Lukos said. He was really in his element now, and his sister could feel it. It got her fired up as well (though she didn't show it), and now she raised her sword, rushing at the beast down the hill they were on.
"Amethyst Crystal Magic: Geslepen Ijs," she said, and the tip of her sword froze to below zero. Imbuing it with mana, she swung it at the dragon, and the icy rend hit its neck, ice starting to spread rapidly at the location it had connected.
The wyvern roared again, desperately clawing at the affected area.
"Shall you finish him or shall I?" Lukos yelled to Freja, who didn't reply, swinging at the wyvern's neck. It met her blade with a claw, the impact reverberating as she formed Glissando beneath her feet and continued to try and press her advantage.
Lukos was quite miffed, and began to playfully sulk. "Fine then, be like that. Mind Magic: Aetherial Torrent!"
A multitude of runic stakes came from seemingly nowhere and embedded themselves inside the wyvern's head. Mind energy began to emit from them, causing a flood of psychic pressure to be applied to its insides. The wyvern roared in pain as it was rendered immobile, unable to focus.
Freja pressed her advantage, darting beneath the wyvern's flailing claws with effortless agility. Her sword gleamed coldly in the storm's dim light, the frozen edge humming with power as she carved another jagged line along the beast's shoulder. The wyvern shrieked, thrashing wildly, but Lukos's Aetherial Torrent had done its job.
Its movements were sluggish, disjointed, unfocused. Its mind was drowning in psionic pressure, unable to coordinate its own body.
Freja danced between its desperate attacks, slicing through scales and tendons with chilling precision. Her strikes weren't reckless, nor were they needlessly cruel; she moved with the exact efficiency required to kill.
Lukos, watching from a short distance away, let out a low whistle. "You really do have a knack for making things suffer, don't you?"
Freja scoffed, ducking beneath another clumsy swing before driving her frozen blade deep into the wyvern's gut. "You're the one who scrambled its brain first," she reminded him.
"Yes, but my method is elegant."
The wyvern tried to summon another roar, but it came out as a choked, rattling sound, its breath hitching as Freja wrenched her sword free. Frost blossomed across its torso, spreading hungrily through flesh and bone. It staggered, wings twitching uselessly, its great body teetering on the edge of collapse.
Lukos gave an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose I should contribute a little more."
He flicked his wrist, and the runic stakes embedded in the wyvern's skull pulsed with a final, brutal surge of psychic force.
The wyvern convulsed, letting out one last, pitiful cry - then collapsed, its massive body crashing against the rocky ground with a force that sent tremors through the cliffs.
Freja barely took a step back, watching with critical eyes as the ice continued its spread. "You took long enough."
Lukos grinned. "I was enjoying the show."
Freja exhaled through her nose, spinning her sword once before letting the mana dissipate, her weapon dissolving into a shower of crystalline shards. "Tch. At least this was a little more interesting than usual."
Lukos stretched, looking far too pleased with himself. "Oh? Are you actually admitting you had fun?"
Freja shot him a look, but before she could retort-
They both felt it.
A presence.
Lukos turned his head slightly, catching movement from the corner of his eye.
Freja was quicker, snapping her fingers - jagged spires of amethyst crystal burst from the ground, barring the escape route of the observer.
A strangled yelp followed.
They turned fully now, and Lukos found himself grinning at the sight of a young man pressed against the cliffside, eyes wide with terror. He looked human, but what caught Lukos's interest first wasn't his fearful expression.
It was the faint glow of green-tinged crystal magic flickering at his fingertips.
Emerald Crystal Magic.
"Oh," Lukos murmured, stepping closer, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "And what do we have here?"
The man flinched, but he didn't bolt - not that he could, with Freja's crystals caging him in. His breath came fast and uneven, his entire body tense, but there was something in his gaze beyond fear. Something keen. Alert.
Lukos could tell instantly that this wasn't just some unlucky wanderer.
"You were watching us," Freja stated, arms crossed. "Why?"
The man hesitated, but then, slowly, he exhaled. "…You're powerful," he admitted, voice cautious but steady. "And I wanted to see how you'd fight."
Lukos raised an eyebrow.
Freja, unimpressed, just scoffed. "Curiosity can get you killed."
The man swallowed but held his ground. "Maybe," he said. "But I learned something."
Lukos's interest sharpened.
"Learned, you say?" He stepped forward, ignoring the way the man instinctively tensed, and instead pointed at the lingering flickers of green crystal magic on his fingertips. "And what, exactly, did you learn?"
The man hesitated - then, hesitantly, lifted his hand. His emerald crystals shimmered, shifting subtly in color and texture.
Not amethyst, like Freja's.
But something entirely his own.
Lukos stared, then let out a genuine laugh, bright and delighted.
"Oh, I like you," he declared.
Freja shot him an incredulous glance, but Lukos was already stepping even closer, eyes glinting with newfound interest.
"What's your name, little human?"
The man hesitated only a second longer before answering.
"…Alric Martens."
…
"We're back!" Lukos yelled, as the two descended from the hills, to where some members of the Elf Tribe were gathered. Lukos waved at them happily, while Freja walked angrily behind him, her arms crossed over her chest.
"You're a few days late," Zere said in her monotone voice. "What happened?"
"I was busy-"
"He wasted time frolicking around with a human like a fool," Freja growled through clenched teeth. "The moment he finds another magic obsessed individual, all of his supposed "reason" and "logic" goes out of the window."
"As does his sense of time, apparently," Orist chuckled.
"Now where's that animal bastard?" Freja growled, her eyes scanning the Elf Tribe's village for Vetto. She left the group of elves in a huff, kicking up small bits of crystal as she walked.
"She's in a brilliant mood," Siel muttered. Lukos chuckled.
"Anyways," the mind mage said. "I'm going back to the lab to analyse these special arti-"
He was cut off mid stride by the tight constriction of an ink tendril around his arm. The caster of that spell? None other than Zere herself. And she looked pissed.
"Oh no you don't," she said. "It's you and Maelys's turn to look after the younglings."
"Whaaaaaat?" Lukos said, looking around surprised. "I never would have…Mind Magic: Psionic Push!"
Mind energy materialised at his palm, and he thrust his free hand towards Zere. The ink mage was faster though, writing the word "bind" on the air and entrapping his other arm.
"I can't get out of this, can I?" Lukos sighed, a resigned grin on his face. The bindings constricted tighter around his arms in response. "By the Goddess, that hurts!"
Lukos winced dramatically as Zere's ink bindings squeezed tighter around his arms, making his displeasure known. "You know, you're getting way too comfortable with this ink trick of yours."
Zere's expression remained as unimpressed as ever. "And you're getting way too comfortable thinking you can escape your responsibilities."
Lukos sighed theatrically. "Alright, alright, I surrender."
The moment she released him, he stretched his arms with a mock groan of pain, rubbing at the spots where the ink had bound him. "You wound me," he muttered, before slouching away in the direction of the younglings' quarters.
The second he stepped inside, he was greeted by a chorus of voices.
"Lukos!"
Half a dozen elven children ran at him full speed. One promptly latched onto his waist, another to his leg. Lukos barely had time to brace himself before he was half-toppled by the sheer force of the incoming assault.
From the centre of the chaos stood Maelys, hands on her hips, watching with a bemused smile.
"You're late," she informed him.
Lukos, still struggling to pry one of the younglings off his torso, flashed her a bright grin. "Fashionably so."
Maelys rolled her eyes. "Of course."
She looked different today. Her long silver hair, usually neat and smooth, was slightly dishevelled from dealing with the children all day. A loose strand fell against her cheek, and there was a small smudge of dirt on her sleeve.
Lukos eyed her for a moment, then smirked. "Look at you. So motherly."
Maelys raised an eyebrow. "Look at you. So useless."
He gasped, hand flying to his chest in mock offense. "You wound me, truly."
She ignored him entirely, instead kneeling down to scold one of the children attempting to chew on a wooden toy. Lukos watched her for a moment, an odd warmth settling in his chest.
He liked this.
As much as he loved his research, his experiments, his endless pursuit of magic's mysteries - there was something oddly grounding about these moments. The simple, chaotic joy of the younglings. The way Maelys so effortlessly handled them, despite her usual sharp edges.
He liked that a lot. He liked her a lot.
Later that night
By the time the younglings had settled down onto their mats, the sky outside had turned deep indigo, streaked with hints of violet and gold. The campfires beyond the village flickered softly, their light casting long shadows along the walls.
Lukos and Maelys sat side by side, backs resting against the wooden beams of the room. A comfortable silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional sleepy murmur from the children.
Lukos tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "You ever think about what's next?" he murmured.
Maelys glanced at him. "Next?"
"For us," Lukos elaborated. "For the tribe. For everything."
A quiet exhale. Maelys followed his gaze towards the ceiling, as if seeking the answer there. "…I do," she admitted. "The world isn't as stable as it once was. Change is inevitable."
Lukos hummed. "And us?"
She hesitated. Just for a second.
"What about us?" she said finally, her gaze wistful.
Lukos turned to her fully, his grin now tinged with mischief. "Well, you are practically a mother already, handling these little brats all the time." He waggled his eyebrows. "Got me wondering if you're starting to want one of your own."
Maelys blinked.
Then, her entire face turned crimson.
"What? Excuse me!?"
Lukos grinned, delighted. "Oh, so that's what gets you flustered? Not battles, not spells, not even my brilliant mind magic, but the thought of making a little elf baby?" He leaned in, lowering his voice into a mockery of seduction. "You know, I'm more than willing to help with that. We could start tonight, in fact. I'd throw you onto my bed in that way you like, and then…then we could get to the good part-"
The sound of Maelys's fist cracking against his skull was deafening.
"SHUT UP," she hissed, her entire face burning.
Lukos swayed dramatically from the impact, a dazed grin still on his lips. "Ow. Rude."
Before he could protest further, a small voice piped up from the mats.
"…Wait, what does he mean 'start tonight'?"
Lukos froze.
Maelys froze.
"HE MEANS NOTHING," Maelys blurted out, face still burning.
"Ohhh?" One of the older children smirked. "That soooounds like something."
"It's nothing," Maelys repeated, but the damage was done.
The younglings, sensing an opportunity, pounced.
One leapt onto Lukos's back. Another clung to his leg. A third decided his hair was a perfect climbing rope.
Lukos flailed. "WHAT THE-"
"Attack!" one of the twins declared. "Avenge Maelys!"
"Give me a break! Maelys, what the hell have you been teaching them?!"
"GET HIM!"
Within moments, he was buried beneath a pile of tiny, vengeful elves.
Maelys, recovering from her embarrassment, crossed her arms and smirked down at him. "That's what you get."
Lukos, face smushed against the floor, could only let out a muffled groan.
…This was not the romantic night he had envisioned.
A/N: Two completely varying descriptions of Lukos - he's not a complete monster i swr
Looks like Freddy got his drama after all
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