The Hidden Monster of House Vale

Chapter 16: Chapter - 16 - The Ancient Temple Ruins

Lucien did not sleep.

While the others rested in their tents, he lay awake in the darkness, his eyes open, his mind moving through the system screens only he could see. The day’s kills had been profitable. He tallied the souls, the points, the quiet accumulation of power.

After all expenses, he calculated, the souls I gathered today total 6900 points.

He added them to his reserves.

9602 Soul Points.

He smiled in the dark.

”System,” he whispered. ”I want to upgrade Soul Void.”

A screen flickered before his eyes.

[Soul Void – Upgrade to Level 2]

[Cost: 500 Soul Points]

”Do it.”

[Soul Void upgraded to Level 2]

Area of effect increased

Can extract souls from up to 5 targets simultaneously without physical contact

Extraction speed increased

”One more level,” Lucien murmured.

[Soul Void – Upgrade to Level 3]

[Cost: 5500 Soul Points]

He hesitated for only a moment. Then: ”Do it.”

[Soul Void upgraded to Level 3]

Area of effect: 2500 km²

Can extract souls from any target within the designated area

Extraction time varies based on number of targets

Increased Soul Point yield per extraction

Can now extract souls from weapons

Lucien’s eyes gleamed.

Level 4 costs 50,000 Soul Points. Expensive. But worth it.

He checked his remaining balance.

3602 Soul Points.

He thought of the Beast Sovereign Egg, still gestating in the shadowy world within his heart.

”System. Accelerate the hatching process. How much?”

[Beast Sovereign Egg – Haste Growth]

[Cost: 2000 Soul Points]

[Effect: Hatching speed increased by 50%]

”Buy it.”

[Egg hatching will complete in 14 days.]

1602 Soul Points left.

Enough for emergencies. Nothing more.

Lucien closed his eyes.

Sleep came slowly, but it came.

Morning – The Alde Base Camp

Dawn bled through the wrong-colored sky of the Ancient Breach, painting the dark forest in shades of purple and gold.

Lucien emerged from his tent to find Hellyn Ashwick already awake, her white priestess robes swapped for practical leather armor. She was sharpening her sword with slow, deliberate strokes, her dull yellowish hair pulled back in a tight braid.

”You’re up early,” Lucien said.

”So are you.”

Delian stepped out of her tent a moment later, stretching her arms above her head. She wore something different today—fitted leather that left her midriff bare, revealing a stomach carved like steel, her golden hair loose around her shoulders. She looked less like a noblewoman and more like a warrior.

”Ready?” she asked.

Lucien nodded.

”Let’s go.”

The forest swallowed them.

Trees towered above, their bark black as charcoal, their leaves the color of dried blood. The ground was soft and damp, covered in moss that glowed faintly in the shadows. Strange creatures watched from the undergrowth—eyes gleaming, then gone.

They encountered monsters.

A pack of wolf-like beasts with too two head—Lucien cut them down with roots and vines, their bodies crushed before they could close the distance. A giant serpent that rose from a murky pond—Hellyn located it with her astral energy, her eyes turning white as she traced its movements, and the other retainers brought it down with arrows and blades.

Hellyn’s magic was unusual. She could sense enemies before they appeared, could create bows of pure astral energy and fire arrows that never missed. When she used her power, her eyes became twin moons—white, unseeing, but seeing everything.

Delian was something else entirely.

She gave orders. She led. But when something dared to attack her directly, she responded with devastating efficiency. Rays of condensed astral energy—two meters thick—erupted from her hands and obliterated whatever stood in her path. No flourish. No wasted movement. She was the definition of an efficient Realm Master.

She was also proficient with blades, with fists, with whatever weapon came to hand. And her body—bare midriff, steel abs, toned arms—moved like water.

Lucien watched her fight and understood why she commanded respect.

She earned it.

He held back. He used only a fraction of his power—roots, vines, the occasional shadow step. No need to show everything. Not yet.

After hours of fighting and walking, they reached it.

The Ancient Temple Ruin

The ground opened before them—a massive hole in the earth, its edges crumbling, its depths lost in shadow. Below, barely visible in the gloom, stood the remains of an ancient structure. Pillars. Arches. Stone carved with symbols older than any language Lucien knew.

The Ancient Temple Ruin.

And gathered around the entrance, standing in tense clusters, were other families. Other nobles. Other Realm Masters.

Lucien counted fifty people. Maybe more.

He landed beside Delian, his boots touching the stone floor of the underground chamber. Hellyn and the retainers followed.

Every head turned toward them.

”If it isn’t Lady Delian of the Alde Family,” said an old man with a long white beard and cold gray eyes. He wore fine robes embroidered with black vines—the sigil of the Blackwood Count Family. ”Perhaps we can discuss this inheritance like civilized people.”

Delian folded her arms. Her sharp eyes swept across the gathered nobles.

”Discuss?”

The old man nodded. ”We are aware of your strength, Lady Delian. So we propose this: only the strongest from each family may enter the inheritance dungeon. Whatever treasures we find, we divide equally. Everyone wins something.” He spread his hands. ”We are all nobility, after all.”

A fat man from the Tanner Family wiped sweat from his brow and nodded eagerly. ”Yeah. We wouldn’t mind that at all.”

Lucien counted again. Fifty on their side. Ten on Delian’s.

The old man and the fat man were in the Spirit Forge Realm—early stage, from what he could see. The rest were Body Tempering. Cannon fodder.

Delian can see their true cultivation with her Divine Eyes, Lucien thought. She knows they’re only early Spirit Forge.

If she were alone, she might accept their offer.

But she wasn’t alone.

Delian listened to the old man with her arms still folded, her golden hair catching the torchlight, her red lips pressed into a thin smile.

”Divide the inheritance?” she said.

She tilted her head.

”How about this instead.”

Her smile widened.

”Leave your treasures. Your relics. Everything you have.” Her voice was soft, almost pleasant. ”And I may consider leaving you alive.”

The old man’s face darkened. ”Lady Delian, don’t you think you’re being too arrogant? We were being gracious by including you. But this is not Valtheria. We do not fear you here.” His lips curled. ”I am a Count myself. And there are no rules in this world.” He glanced at his men. ”Perhaps if you get on your knees, we might consider sparing you.”

He smiled. Dirty. Expectant.

Delian punched him in the face.

The old man flew backward, his body crashing into the stone wall with a sound like a sack of meat hitting rock. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ancient stone.

Lucien moved.

Roots erupted from the ground—not thick and defensive, but sharp as spears, sharp as blades. They pierced through the gathered soldiers and retainers before anyone could scream. Blood sprayed. Bodies fell.

Hellyn drew her sword and cut down two men who had been reaching for their weapons. Her white eyes blazed.

Lucien disappeared into shadow and reappeared behind the fat man from the Tanner Family. He drove his fist into the man’s spine—the impact lifted the fat man off his feet and sent him flying out of the hole, into the open air above.

Lucien followed.

The fat man was still falling when Lucien materialized the Blood Moon Katana. He raised the blade—then stopped.

Too messy.

He sheathed the katana and drew the World Root Spear instead. He channeled his draconic powers—the armor beneath his clothes heating against his skin—and launched a fireball from the spear’s tip.

The fireball was massive. It consumed the fat man whole, burning through his astral shields, his flesh, his bones. The forest below caught fire—trees turning to ash, the ground scorched black.

The fat man was gone.

Lucien landed on a branch, watched the flames for a moment, then melted into shadow.

He reappeared beside Delian.

The old man was on his knees. His nose was broken, his robes bloodied, his gray eyes wide with disbelief. Delian held a blade to his throat.

”Lady Delian,” the old man choked, ”don’t forget—my family will become the greatest enemy of the Alde Family. Algard is stronger than me. He will come. He will kill your yellow-haired disciple. This will not end well.”

He looked past Delian and saw Lucien.

His face went pale.

”How...”

Lucien sighed. ”The fat man? He’s dead.”

Delian’s smile was cold. ”Well. It seems no one is left to snitch.”

Hellyn approached, her sword dripping blood. ”Lady Delian. What should we do with the others?”

Delian glanced at the surviving soldiers—kneeling, trembling, their hands raised.

”Isn’t it obvious?”

She beheaded the old man with a single stroke.

”Kill them all.”

The bodies were piled at the edge of the chamber. The retainers worked quickly, efficiently, stripping the dead of weapons, relics, anything valuable.

Lucien stood at the entrance of the ruin proper, studying the stonework. There was not much to see—a dark passage leading deeper into the earth, walls covered in snake motifs, carvings of serpents swallowing their own tails.

Seems like Lady Delian didn’t struggle at all, he thought.

Delian walked toward him, wiping blood from her hands with a cloth. Her eyes were sharp, satisfied.

”Shall we?”

Before she could take another step, something erupted from the old man’s corpse.

A beast.

It burst from the body like a parasite abandoning its host—three meters tall, its mouth gaping open where its stomach should have been, its body the shape of a monstrous gorilla. It screamed—a wet, horrible sound—and lunged at Delian.

She dodged, but her foot slipped on the blood-slick stone.

She fell.

Not far—there was a well behind her, hidden in the shadows, its opening barely visible. She tumbled backward into the darkness.

Lucien moved.

He ran toward her, reached for her hand—and jumped.

Before he fell, he thrust his hand toward the beast. Roots and vines exploded from the stone floor, wrapping around the creature’s limbs, its throat, its screaming mouth. It thrashed, but the vines held.

Then Lucien was falling.

Darkness swallowed him.

Lucien hit the ground shoulder-first, rolled, and came to a stop against a stone wall. The impact rattled his teeth, but his body—forged by Astral Marrow Pills and Primordial Soul Seeds—absorbed the damage.

Delian was nearby, sitting up slowly, her hand pressed to her head.

”Lucien,” she said. ”Wake up.”

She crawled to him and placed her delicate hand on his chest. Her fingers were warm.

He opened his eyes.

”Where are we?”

They stood and looked around.

The space was enormous—far larger than any well had a right to be. Ancient stone walls rose on either side, carved with the same serpent motifs as the temple above. Torches burned along the walls, their flames green and steady, casting the chamber in an otherworldly glow.

”I don’t think a well is supposed to be this big,” Lucien said.

Delian turned in a slow circle. ”It seems we’ve been teleported.”

Before them, two paths stretched into darkness—concrete corridors, ancient and cold. Between the paths, a wide river flowed, its water black as ink. Above, the ceiling was lost in shadow, but every few meters, stone arches spanned the gap, covered in intricate designs.

There was no way back. No rope. No ladder. No hole in the ceiling.

Only the paths ahead.

Lucien looked at Delian. She looked at him.

”Lucien,” she said, stepping close, her voice dropping to a whisper, ”you will protect me, won’t you? After all, I’m just a lady.”

She smiled.

Lucien matched her smile. ”Maybe. Who knows? Perhaps Lady Delian needs to protect herself from me.” He reached out and placed his hand on her lower back, his fingers pressing gently. ”What if I attack you from behind?”

Delian’s breath caught.

”I wish we had that much free time.” Her lips parted. ”I would let you attack me. Who knows—I might attack back. Our fight could last all night.” Her voice dropped lower. ”Can you handle that?”

Lucien stepped closer. Their bodies were almost touching.

”Why don’t we try? I’m dying to find out who would win.”

Delian’s cheeks flushed. For a moment—just a moment—she seemed to consider it.

Then she stepped back.

”We will try, Lucien. But for now...” She turned toward the paths. ”Let’s see what this place is hiding.”

They walked.

The corridors twisted and turned, but every path led to the same place—a dead end. Two passages, both blocked by solid stone. The only features were two statues of serpents, their eyes made of polished jade, their bodies coiled as if ready to strike.

Lucien studied them.

”Maybe we need to put astral energy into the statues.”

He placed his hand on one. Delian placed hers on the other.

Nothing happened.

Lucien frowned. He looked at the statues, then at Delian, then back at the statues.

”Maybe...” He reached out and took her hand. He interlaced his fingers with hers. Her other hand remained on the statue.

Something shifted.

A door appeared between the two statues—seamless stone grinding open, revealing darkness beyond.

”Look out!” Delian shouted.

A giant spider—two meters tall, its body covered in chitinous armor, its eyes burning red—scrambled out of the opening. More followed. Then more. A swarm.

Lucien materialized the Blood Moon Katana and struck.

Mist slashes—invisible, silent—cut through the first wave. Spider bodies fell in pieces. Delian drew her blade and carved through the second wave, her sword moving in arcs too fast to follow.

But they kept coming.

And not just spiders. Giant bats dropped from the ceiling, their screeches echoing off the stone. Worm-like creatures burst from the walls, their toothless mouths gaping. The swarm was endless.

”We can’t keep this up forever,” Delian said, her breathing quickening.

”Something is summoning them,” Lucien said.

He looked at the door. It was still opening—slowly, inch by inch.

”They’ll keep coming until the door is fully open.”

”Then what do we do?”

Lucien grabbed Delian by the waist and pulled her behind him. She pressed against his back, her arms wrapping around his chest.

He raised the Blood Moon Katana. He pointed it straight at the swarm.

And he used World Cleaver.

The skill activated.

Slashes filled every millimeter of space—invisible blades cutting through air, through stone, through flesh. The swarm disintegrated. Spider bodies became liquid. Bat wings dissolved into mist. The worm creatures were shredded into pieces so small they became nothing.

A summoning orb—hidden behind a false wall—was cut in half. The flow of monsters stopped.

The stone wall crumbled. The river ran red.

Delian stared.

She had known he was strong. She had suspected he was hiding his true power. But this—

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her body against his back. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing close. Her lips found his ear.

”So you did protect me,” she whispered.

Lucien turned. He placed one hand on the wall beside her head, the other on her waist. His face was inches from hers.

”I have a habit of saving damsels in distress.”

He leaned closer.

”After killing all those monsters, I’ve worked up an appetite.” His voice dropped. ”Maybe I should attack you next. How should I do it? From the front... or the back?”

Delian’s breath hitched.

She was a Count. A married woman. A mother.

And yet her heart pounded like a girl’s.

She turned her head away, her cheeks burning.

He’s young, she thought. He’s so young. And yet—

”Oh,” Lucien said, pulling back. ”The door is open.”

He started toward it.

Delian grabbed his hand.

”How about,” she said, her voice low, unsteady, ”you attack me from both sides?”

Lucien smiled.

They walked through the door.

The door sealed behind them.

They stood in a vast room—the size of a royal court, with ceilings lost in shadow and walls covered in tapestries depicting serpents and kings. Torches burned in iron sconces, casting everything in warm gold light.

At the center of the room, a pool of black smoke began to rise.

”What is that?” Delian asked.

The smoke spread. It filled the room—thick, choking, impossible to see through.

Something moved within the darkness.

Something fast.

Delian raised her blade. She felt the attack coming—a rush of air, a shift in pressure—but she could not track it. Could not see it.

Lucien shoved her aside.

She hit the ground and rolled, coming up with her sword raised.

But Lucien was gone.

He had been thrown across the room. His body crashed into the far wall—stone cracking, dust falling, his form crumpling against the broken surface.

He slid to the floor.

”Every fucking time,” he muttered.