Chapter 8: The Shadowed Encounter

The carriage, adorned with ornate silver linings, moved seamlessly through the historical heartbeat of Clavis. Cobblestone paths, worn by time, echoed tales of yore, surrounded by the elegant architecture reminiscent of 18th-century England. From Tudor houses to Gothic spires, the city buzzed with life. Yet, rising majestically above all was the regal castle, with its tall turrets and imposing battlements.

As Lucius and Commander Varon, the latter's will utterly dominated by Lucius, stepped onto the polished marble courtyard, the castle's inhabitants—guards in gleaming armor and maids in flowing gowns—lined up, curiosity and unease evident in their eyes.

From a slightly elevated throne, the city lord rose, a practiced smile on his face. "Varon, my old friend, what brings you to my castle? And who might this... guest of yours be?"

Lucius's cold gaze met the city lord's, and he responded with palpable contempt, "Names are inconsequential. I'm here for what I need, not for idle banter."

The lord's smile faltered, and a hint of irritation crept into his voice, "In Clavis, even a stranger is treated with honor, but he too must bestow the same. Your motives seem enigmatic, especially when accompanied by Varon, who appears... unlike himself."

Lucius sneered, "You prattle about honor while your city harbors shadows. I suggest you answer my questions and save yourself unnecessary suffering."

The tension thickened. The lord, attempting to mask his unease, retorted, "Mystery cloaks you, stranger. But remember, in Clavis, respect is earned, not commanded."

Without warning, Lucius unleashed his primordial chaos energy, targeting the lord's magical defenses. The city lord gasped in agony, blood spilling from his lips as he collapsed forward. The guards, loyalty evident, drew their blades and advanced with synchronized precision.

But Lucius was a tempest. One guard, sword aimed for Lucius's heart, found his wrist brutally snapped by Lucius's swift counter. Another guard met a more gruesome fate, Lucius's hand piercing his armor and heart, extracting his life essence with a thirst that seemed insatiable. The hall echoed with the screams of guards and maids alike as they met their end. Lucius moved with an eerie combination of grace and savagery, leaving none alive. With each soul he devoured, his aura darkened, becoming more potent.

The hall soon became a ghastly scene of crimson. Panic evident in his eyes, the weakened city lord managed, "Who... who are you? What sorcery is this? Varon... my friend, what's become of him?"

Leaning in, voice dripping with malice, Lucius whispered, "Your questions are inconsequential." He placed his hand on the city lord's temple, letting the corrupted consciousness take control.