Lucian floated in midair, riding the pull of gravity magic as he steadily ascended.
Before long, he was nearing the very top of the tower.
Without warning, two cold flashes streaked out from the stairway to the side. Unknown objects shot toward him at high speed.
A storm swirled around Lucian's body, intercepting the incoming projectiles and holding them at bay.
Focusing his gaze, he saw what they were, two throwing daggers.
He turned toward the stairway and quickly locked onto a shadow sprinting along the spiral steps.
A head crowned with Omen horns, a golden mask, an unnatural, almost contorted gait, and most distinct of all, a warped circular blade.
There was no doubt. The attacker was a Horned Curseblade.
Lucian raised his right hand. The Ancient Dragon Communion seal on the back of his hand flared crimson.
In an instant, scarlet arcs of lightning spread across the steps before the Curseblade. A terrifying Ancient Dragon lightning strike was about to descend.
The Curseblade immediately turned to retreat, only to find that the path behind him had also filled with crackling arcs of lightning. There was nowhere left to hide.
The next moment, the fully charged lightning engulfed the entire spiral stair where he stood.
A charred figure burst through the storm of lightning, lunging toward the opposite side in a desperate bid for safety.
Realizing that both forward and backward paths were sealed with lightning, the Curseblade had found his only escape, leap through the air.
But what awaited him midair was not hope.
A deep violet beam shot out from Lucian's hand.
Although the Curseblade had evaded most of the lightning, what little remained was already enough.
For someone who relied on agility, the paralysis caused by lightning was far more deadly than the damage itself.
Lucian gathered gravitational energy into a concentrated beam and fired it straight at the airborne Curseblade.
The residual lightning that had struck him acted as a lock. The gravitational beam followed that mark effortlessly, piercing toward him with perfect accuracy.
Suspended in midair and paralyzed, the Curseblade had no way to resist. He could only watch as the beam closed in.
Yet just as it was about to take his life, the attack was stopped.
Countless yellow-black cursed spirits howled into existence, colliding with the gravitational beam and erasing it midair.
At the same time, another Curseblade descended upside down from above, his cirque blade spinning in a deadly arc.
Lucian sidestepped with ease, then seized the attacker's arm mid-spin and hurled him away, smashing him hard against the tower wall.
He swept his gaze around.
There were now three Curseblades surrounding him.
Among them, the one who had summoned the cursed spirits to block his attack seemed the strongest. A thin black mist clung to his body, obscuring any attempt to read him.
This one did not rush to strike. Instead, he exhaled a thick cloud of black fog.
The fog spread quickly, concealing both himself and the Curseblade who had just been struck by lightning.
The one Lucian had just thrown also released black mist at once, vanishing into it.
The mists merged together, gradually blanketing the middle section of the tower, right where Lucian stood.
Lucian raised an eyebrow, but made no move to disperse it.
This was hardly a real challenge. Tricks like this didn't matter.
Besides, if he blew the fog away now, it would only make things awkward for them.
Lucian, feeling uncharacteristically generous, decided to give them their moment.
A cirque blade suddenly shot out from the fog ahead, already grazing past his face by the time it emerged.
Lucian reached out and casually caught it.
But in the next instant, two more Curseblades appeared from either side, each wielding a cirque blade as they slashed toward his lower back.
If they succeeded, his kidneys would not survive the encounter.
At the same time, the final Curseblade launched an attack from above.
Within the fog, countless cursed spirits swarmed and drifted, closing in on him from all directions.
Facing their coordinated assault, Lucian felt a flicker of anticipation. He reversed his grip on the captured blade.
With a precise motion, he hooked one attacker's weapon using the protruding edge of the circular blade, forcing it off course and crashing him into his ally.
The blade in his hand couldn't be withdrawn in time and instead plunged deep into the body of the other Curseblade.
Their bodies collided and overlapped, only to be sent flying together by a single kick from Lucian.
Only then did he calmly turn his attention to the cursed spirits filling the air.
From his earlier encounter with the Omen-horned Night's Cavalry, he had already discovered that cursed spirits could pass through storms unhindered.
So this time, he chose a different kind of power.
Radiant sunlight burst forth from his body.
Under its brilliance, the cursed spirits dissolved one after another.
The strange black fog was also pierced by the light, leaving the hidden Curseblades completely exposed.
The one who had been throwing blades and summoning cursed spirits appeared on the steps beside Lucian.
With the fog dispelled, he was visibly shaken.
Lucian hurled the cirque blade in his hand. It spun through the air, tearing toward the Curseblade.
The Curseblade instinctively reached out, trying to catch his weapon.
But not every thrown weapon could be caught barehanded.
The speed and force of the blade exceeded his reaction.
By the time his fingers closed, the blade had already sliced through his palm.
Like a spinning saw, it carved relentlessly upward, splitting his arm down the middle before lodging itself between the radius and ulna of his forearm.
The immense force dragged his arm backward and pinned it to the wall.
The Curseblade showed no sign of pain, making no sound despite the gruesome injury.
In the next instant, a crimson lightning spear tore through the air.
When it passed, only the blood-stained cirque blade remained embedded in the wall.
The Curseblade had vanished back into the shadows, narrowly evading the strike.
But Lucian had already formed a crimson lightning spear in each hand.
His two companions were not so fortunate.
—
The first Curseblade who had launched the ambush had already been half-dead from the lightning strike. Now, impaled by his own ally's weapon, his end was inevitable.
The cirque blade that had pierced into his body was driven completely through after Lucian's kick.
The ally behind him could do nothing. Forced to abandon his weapon, he tried to retreat.
But the appearance of the crimson lightning spear instantly crushed that hope.
The spear pierced through both of them at once, sending them to their deaths together.
Now, only one remained, the strongest Curseblade, the one capable of summoning cursed spirits.
Seeing his companions fall, he made no attempt to flee. Instead, he chose to fight with everything he had.
He leapt from the edge of the steps, using the spiral pillar to propel himself into a strike from behind Lucian.
All the while, his form remained shrouded in black mist, silent and undetectable.
Unfortunately for him, the faint disturbance of air from his movement had already revealed everything to Lucian.
A violent storm surged into existence behind Lucian, halting the final Curseblade midair.
Lucian turned, casting him one last glance.
Then he pressed his palm downward.
The suspended Curseblade was slammed straight down by the raging wind, crashing all the way to the base of the tower.
He struck the collapsed remains of shattered stairways below, a grave already waiting to claim him.
Lucian raised both hands, forming a rectangular frame with his fingers, perfectly enclosing the Curseblade far beneath him.
Fragments of stone and debris around the fallen warrior were seized by gravity and dragged inward, converging upon him from all directions.
Realizing what was about to happen, the Curseblade began to struggle frantically.
He swung his cirque blade in desperation, trying to carve apart the incoming rubble. But the debris came endlessly, like waves of a rising tide, swallowing him whole until he could no longer move.
Lucian slowly brought his hands closer together. As his fingers aligned, the invisible frame shrank tighter and tighter.
Extreme gravity compressed inward, crushing everything at the center.
The Curseblade was completely buried within a cube formed from stone and ruin.
Two narrow openings appeared along the sides of the cube. Blood, forced under immense pressure, shot out from them like arrows.
The cube continued to compress until every last drop of blood had been expelled.
Only then did it fully solidify.
In the end, the Curseblade and the stone fused into one, forming a perfectly shaped block.
The entire process was silent.
The sound of horns snapping, bones shattering, or any cry of despair never reached the outside world.
This was the prison Lucian had crafted for him, one of absolute isolation and hopelessness.
Having reduced the Curseblade into something like a neatly "compressed file," Lucian resumed his ascent.
This one had been stronger than the others he had encountered.
Unfortunately, only by a small margin.
Just then, a tremendous noise echoed from outside the tower.
Lucian drifted toward an opening in the midsection and looked out.
In the distance, a brilliant surge of golden light erupted.
Massive golden Omen horns burst up from the ground, tearing through structures in the town below and reducing parts of it to rubble.
There was no doubt. That was the Horned Warrior's ultimate technique, Horn Calling.
Watching the billowing dust and destruction, Lucian quickly pieced it together.
Leda and Freyja must be over there, likely engaged with a Horned Warrior.
Without hesitation, Lucian flew out of the tower and headed in that direction.
From this exit, he found himself near the uppermost level of the Tower Settlement.
Looking down from here, most of the town lay exposed beneath him.
The path ahead differed from the straight avenue at the tower's base, slanting at an angle. In the distance, a sloped corridor connected the two routes, forming a triangular structure with the tower as its apex.
The battle was taking place along that inclined passage.
—
Leda and Freyja were currently locked in combat with another Horned Warrior.
This one was even larger than the previous foe, wielding an oversized great curved sword.
His body was already covered in wounds, battered and bleeding from head to toe.
Having learned from their earlier battle, Leda and Freyja worked in seamless coordination, maintaining the upper hand.
After evading the wide-reaching Horn Calling attack, the Horned Warrior had been pushed to the brink.
Victory was within reach—just a final, decisive blow remained.
But at the very moment his life was hanging by a thread, the tide turned abruptly.
The Horned Warrior adapted to their coordinated attacks and found an opening to counter.
With a swing of his massive blade, he forced Freyja back. Then, with a sudden shoulder charge, he slammed into Leda as she advanced.
The impact sent Leda flying. She crashed through the wall of the corridor and fell from the structure.
Below lay the foul runoff of the city, a gathering of sewage, teeming with countless humanoid flies.
A fall from this height would not be without consequence.
As Leda braced herself, calculating how to minimize the damage, Lucian appeared beside her mid-fall and caught her arm.
He pulled her back up onto the bridge.
Leda immediately turned to look toward Freyja.
Without Leda's support, Freyja was struggling under the Horned Warrior's relentless assault.
She dodged continuously, searching for any opportunity to deliver a finishing blow.
But the Horned Warrior, empowered and unflinching despite his injuries, fought with a ferocity far beyond anything she had encountered. His desperate final resistance was overwhelming.
At this point, she had no opening, only the option to evade.
After rescuing Leda, Lucian formed a blazing spear of sunlight in his hand and hurled it toward the Horned Warrior from afar.
The spear pierced straight through his body.
Flames erupted instantly, reducing him to ash.
Only then did Leda let out a breath of relief.
They had nearly secured victory themselves. Who would have thought it would turn so suddenly, pushing them into such danger?
Lucian looked at Leda and Freyja, then shook his head.
"Didn't I say not to rush into fights against strong opponents?"
Leda lowered her head at his words.
Still, Lucian had no intention of scolding them.
After all, turning a winning fight into a loss at the last second was something he himself had experienced more than once.
He paused, then added,
"…But you did well."
"If it weren't for the suppression of the Land of Shadow, he wouldn't have stood a chance against you."
"Come on. Let's head to the top of the tower and see what's waiting there."
As he spoke, Lucian released the power of sunlight, quickly restoring their injuries.
Once healed, he gestured toward the towering structure.
Leda looked slightly surprised, then nodded, following along with Freyja.
On their way back, Lucian collected some Spirit Ashes for Torrent from the corpse of a Horned ancestor.
With all obstacles inside the tower cleared, the three of them soon reached the top.
They pushed open a heavy door.
Beyond it lay a vast stage.
At its center rested what appeared to be the corpse of a strange creature.
It had the head of a lion, covered in Omen horns, its body concealed beneath long draping cloth.
As they stepped onto the stage, a violent wind began to howl. The very sky seemed to shift.
An aged voice echoed throughout the Tower Settlement:
"O Horn-deck'd beast, from higher sphere deliver'd."
"Take root inside the tower's sculpted keepers. And perch'd within, we beg of thee; rise."
"Dance and cavort, cleanse all that thou wilt."
"Cruelty, woe, and those who plague the tower."
"Cleanse away the strumpet's vile progeny.!"
As the voice faded, the creature lying motionless at the center of the stage began to stir.
Lucian stared at it, slightly taken aback.
It hadn't been obvious while it lay still.
But now that it rose.
Was that… a lion dance?
And the ones supporting the lion's head from below…
Those were human hands, weren't they?