In the house of the Grand Elder of the Solan Clan, time had left its mark. His hair had turned completely white, and deep wrinkles lined his face. Despite reaching the age of one hundred and forty, his features remained far younger than what one would expect from someone who had surpassed a century.
Shard Masters lived long lives, but each stage of power came with a time limit. This relentless race against time drove them to push their boundaries without rest. The Grand Elder was no exception. He knew he had only ten years left before his lifespan ran out, so he had secluded himself in training, hoping to reach the second stage before time caught up with him.
He had reached the Mid-Awakening stage, and his shard thrived on the essence of the Kadupul Flower, a rare bloom that only blossomed at night and withered before dawn. Harvesting it was nearly impossible, yet he had spent fifty years studying and cultivating it. Even so, it was not enough. Now, only one option remained: understanding his shard on a deeper level so that it would acknowledge him and allow his ascension.
But today was different.
His tranquil thoughts were shattered by a loud voice.
« Grandfather! Grandfather! »
The voice rang through the hall as a boy with silver hair and piercing blue eyes burst in, radiating energy and enthusiasm.
Nyktos Solan, the pride of the clan and its brightest future.
Despite being in seclusion, the Grand Elder welcomed Nyktos with a warm smile.
« I finally found my rival! »
With his usual excitement, Nyktos eagerly recounted what had transpired between him and Louskas—how they had met, how his training had progressed over the past few months. As the boy spoke, the Grand Elder's expression darkened, yet Nyktos, in his innocence, failed to notice.
A monster, yes… but still just a child.
When Nyktos finished, silence fell over the hall.
The Grand Elder was deep in thought.
There was only one conclusion to draw from his grandson's encounter with that slave:
Louskas was no ordinary slave—he was a spy.
At first, he suspected the boy might be the exiled son of the clan leader, but that fear-ridden child he had once known bore no resemblance to the one described now.
There was no other explanation—he had to be a spy.
How else could a mere slave know such advanced training methods? It was true that some slaves had belonged to great clans before their fall, but for a mere slave to progress so rapidly in just four months was unheard of.
But the worst part… he had discovered the lake.
The secret lake was a crucial part of his plan to reclaim his position. He had been stripped of his title as clan leader without even being given a chance to contest it, all because Valrik had reached the second stage: Flaw.
But he had no intention of surrendering. For years, he had been gathering allies in the shadows, planting seeds of doubt in the hearts of the elders, reopening the clan's old wounds—all with the goal of shaking everyone's trust in Valrik.
And the lake… was his trump card.
But now, this slave might ruin everything.
*******
On the outskirts of the clan, battle raged.
The Grand Elder was now facing a servant of the demons—an early-stage Shard Master with a defensive shard.
He could have ended the fight quickly, but he hesitated. Killing this enemy might draw more of them, and he needed to reach Valrik without drawing too much attention.
Elsewhere, amidst the destruction, the clan leader fought his own battle.
Valrik Solan, a mid-second-stage Shard Master, was fending off two demon servants at once.
One of them possessed a shard that enhanced his physical strength, while the other wielded a strange ability—he could conjure iron spikes from thin air, raining them upon Valrik like a storm.
Yet despite their combined assault, Valrik dominated them.
His movements were like a hurricane, his fists like hammers—every strike tore through the air, closed distances in an instant, and left his enemies staggering.
The Grand Elder watched the battle, his eyes gleaming with cunning.
He had no intention of aiding Valrik.
He was simply waiting—for the perfect moment to strike when Valrik was at his weakest.
His gaze swept across the battlefield…
Bodies littered the ground.
The elders fought ferociously.
Blood painted the walls.
"Sacrifice is necessary."
But suddenly, his eyes locked onto an unexpected sight.
Louskas and Kailos stood there, watching from the shadows.
Then… he saw his only grandson—Kailos—collapse to the ground.
Something snapped inside him.
Rage… pure, unrelenting rage.
In an instant, massive roots, as thick as a grown man's arm, burst from the earth.
They coiled around the demon servant with crushing force… then squeezed until his body exploded into pieces.
Then, without hesitation, he sent more of them toward that slave.