Too fast.
He appeared behind Garrick, placing two fingers against his neck.
A pulse of darkness shot into Garrick’s nervous system, paralyzing him. He dropped, twitching on the ground.
Lucian knelt beside him.
"Next time you want to dethrone a king, Garrick..."
He whispered near his ear.
"...don’t use a peasant’s dagger."
Then he stood.
But something was wrong.
The black in his veins glowed brighter. His legs trembled. His vision blurred.
He took a step. Staggered. Collapsed to a knee.
"Shit..."
The poison was finally overwhelming his regeneration.
He coughed—violently—black blood splattering onto the stones.
His heartbeat slowed. Magic flickered around his core like a candle in the wind.
He had won.
He had destroyed them.
But...
His body tilted forward.
And Lucian Black—the strongest hunter alive—fell to the ground.
Not by blade.
Not by war.
But by the one thing he had underestimated.
Betrayal.
Silence returned to the battlefield.
Garrick, still twitching and groaning beside a crumbled wall, turned his head weakly to look at Lucian’s unmoving form.
Even in defeat...
Lucian looked like a god.
Blood dripped from his lips, but his eyes stayed open. Still glaring.
Still defiant.
Even poisoned, even collapsed, his presence crushed the air.
Lucian Black had fallen.
But not like a loser.
No.
Even in collapse—he looked like he had chosen to kneel.
Garrick groaned and shifted, coughing up blood as he rolled onto his side. His body was a ruin. Bones cracked, organs bruised, his vision blurred and doubled. Every cell screamed at him to stay down.
But then his gaze locked on Lucian.
Still.
Vulnerable.
The storm of rage and humiliation in Garrick’s heart boiled over. He spat blood to the side, and dragged himself to his feet, every limb trembling, but he stood.
He stood.
The sky growled above. Thunder rumbled. But Garrick didn’t flinch.
"You still look smug..." he said, his voice cracked and broken. "Even now... bleeding, broken, poisoned. You still look at me like I’m nothing."
He limped closer, each step heavy with hate.
Lucian’s fingers twitched slightly.
He was alive.
Garrick clenched his jaw.
"That’s what you’ve always done." His voice grew louder, filled with bitterness. "Everyone compared me to you. Lucian Black—the untouchable. The perfect hunter. The first XXX-rank awakener."
He stopped in front of Lucian and looked down at him like a wounded animal finally cornering the lion that ruled the mountain.
"They all worshipped you. Even when I was stronger. Even when I bled more, fought harder, gave everything—I was always second. Always behind you. Always just ’the other one.’"