THE KING'S POSSESSION

Chapter 81

Chapter 81: Lucian the Ruthless

Lucian Devereaux, firstborn of King Alaric Devereaux, had known from the earliest moments of his consciousness that his destiny was set. The kingdom's tradition dictated that the firstborns would be sent to battle the moment they turned fifteen. For Lucian, this was not a distant fate but a reality that shaped his entire upbringing.

From the tender age of five, Lucian was introduced to the world of combat. His father, King Alaric, had been a formidable warrior himself, and he ensured that his son was trained to surpass even his own legendary prowess. Lucian's days were filled with relentless drills, swordsmanship lessons, and brutal sparring sessions. He learned to wield a sword before he could properly read, and his instructors were unyielding, pushing him to the brink of his endurance.

By the time he reached fifteen, Lucian had become a fearsome figure, his body honed to perfection and his mind steeled against fear and hesitation. He had been trained to kill without mercy, to become a warrior who could lead his kingdom's armies to victory. As the battle of the Middle Kingdom and the Northeasterns loomed on the horizon, Lucian was ready.

And when the day of battle dawned cold and gray, the skies were already heavy with the promise of bloodshed. Lucian stood at the forefront of the army while his gaze were fixed on the distant horizon where the enemy forces gathered. His armor gleamed in the dim light, a witness to his readiness. The weight of his sword felt like an extension of his arm, a part of him as vital as his own heartbeat.

As the battle horns blared, signaling the start of the assault, Lucian surged forward. The clash of steel and the roar of warriors filled the air. Lucian's movements were fluid, almost graceful, as he cut through the enemy ranks. His blade found its mark with lethal precision, each strike deliberate and deadly. He did not blink as he took life after life; the faces of the fallen blurred together in a haze of crimson.

An enemy soldier lunged at him, but Lucian sidestepped effortlessly, bringing his sword down in a swift arc that ended the man's life. Another came at him from the side, but Lucian was already moving, his blade singing through the air. The soldier crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide with shock.

Lucian's training had transformed him into a weapon, and he wielded himself with cold efficiency. He showed no hesitation, no mercy. His enemies were obstacles to be removed, nothing more. His movements were a deadly dance, each step calculated, each strike intentional. The battlefield was his stage, and he performed with ruthless precision.

In the thick of the fight, Lucian spotted the enemy commander. A towering figure clad in dark armor, the commander was rallying his troops, urging them to break through the Lucian's lines. Lucian's eyes narrowed, and he began to carve a path toward the man. He moved with a singular focus, cutting down anyone who dared stand in his way.

The two warriors met in a clash of steel, their swords ringing out as they traded blows. The commander was strong, but Lucian was stronger even though he was as young as his enemy's child. His training had prepared him for this moment, and he fought with a ferocity that left his opponent reeling. With a final, decisive strike, Lucian's blade found its mark, piercing the commander's heart.

The battle continued to rage around him, but Lucian stood over the fallen commander, his chest heaving with exertion. He had proven himself, not just to his father and his kingdom, but to himself. He was Lucian the Ruthless, a warrior born and bred for battle, a leader who would stop at nothing to secure victory for his people.

As the day wore on and the enemy forces began to crumble, Lucian led the final charge. His presence on the battlefield inspired his men and struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. By the time the sun began to set, the Northeasterns were in full retreat, their forces shattered and broken.

Lucian stood amidst the aftermath as the ground was littered with the bodies of the fallen. His armor was spattered with blood, his sword still clenched in his hand. He felt no remorse, no sorrow for the lives he had taken. This was his destiny and the path he had been forged to walk.

As he returned to his camp, Lucian was greeted with the cheers of his men. They hailed him as a hero, a conqueror. But as he looked out over the battlefield, he felt a cold emptiness settle in his chest. He had won the battle, but at what cost? He had become the warrior his father had wanted him to be, but in doing so, he had lost a part of himself.

Lucian the Ruthless. The title would follow him for the rest of his life. He had proven his worth, but in the process, he had become a living weapon, a man who knew no mercy.

For years, Lucian's life circled around battlefields and bloodshed. And as he stood whenever battles were won, basking in the adulation of his men, he wondered if he would ever live peacefully then.

Until the day he met Isabel, Lucian's heart was as unyielding as the steel of his sword. His hardened exterior was like a shield forged in countless battles which had never been breached. But Isabel, with her gentle grace and unwavering spirit, managed to do what no one else could.

It was her love, the strongest weapon of all, that pierced through the fortress around his heart. Her icy blue eyes, like a fae's spell, ensnared him, drawing him into a world he had never known. Those eyes, so different from the blood and violence he was accustomed to, held a promise of peace and tenderness.

Her golden locks which was a stark contrast to the crimson tide of battle, seemed to symbolize the light in the darkness of his life. With each smile, each touch, Isabel dismantled the walls he had built around himself. She brought warmth to his cold existence, her presence a soothing balm to his weary soul.

Isabel's love transformed Lucian in ways he had never thought possible. She showed him that there was more to life than war and conquest, teaching him to embrace the softer, more vulnerable parts of himself. In her, he found a sanctuary, a place where he could lay down his burdens and simply be a man, not a warrior.

Through Isabel, Lucian discovered a different kind of strength—the strength to love and be loved, to heal and be healed. And in her arms, he found the peace he had longed for, the redemption he had never thought he deserved.

"In the chaos of my life, you are the stillness. In the darkness of my soul, you are the dawn. I have found in you a love that transcends all things, a love that makes me whole. Isabel... you, make me whole."