Young Lions

The operation was bold, no doubt about it—a direct assault on one of the vampires' strongest fortresses, rumored to house Vampire Ancestors and other high-ranking threats. It was the kind of move that could either turn the tide of the war or result in a disastrous loss.

But I had no reason to fear the Vampire Ancestors. Not because I thought I could handle them—I couldn't, not yet—but because they were far above my current scope of responsibility. The task of facing beings at that level would fall to our Immortal-rank champions: the Gu and Moyong family heads, Kathyln Creighton, and Sun Zenith.

Sun, for all his strength at peak Ascendant-rank, had yet to face a true Immortal-rank foe. This battle would test him like never before. And while he was a monster in combat, capable of overpowering nearly anyone at his level and beyond, the step into Immortal-rank was not one to be underestimated. Even with his strength, he would be in for the fight of his life.

My role was different. My strength had grown immensely since the start of this war. I had already defeated a mid Ascendant-rank vampire before, something no one could claim at my current level of high Integration-rank. With my mastery of pseudo-astral energy and the depth of my combat skills, taking on low or mid Ascendant-rank threats was well within my ability.

Still, I wasn't complacent. I knew the dangers of overconfidence. My goal wasn't to survive these battles—it was to dominate them. The stronger I became, the closer I came to achieving the power necessary to face the larger threats looming on the horizon. Ascendant-rank wasn't just a milestone; it was the stepping stone to truly contending with the monsters that defined this war.

For now, I would focus on what lay ahead: clearing the path for our Immortal-rank fighters to handle the Ancestors and making sure the operation succeeded. Anything less wasn't an option.

I stepped out of my room, the sleek contours of my modern battle armor glinting faintly under the light. The suit was a marvel of contemporary craftsmanship, seamlessly blending magic and technology. Unlike traditional heavy metal armor that restricted movement, this one was light, flexible, and far more effective. It activated by channeling mana into its core, wrapping the wearer in a sheath of enhanced aura.

The armor wasn't just practical; it was efficient. It minimized mana consumption, allowing for prolonged combat, and required little conscious effort to maintain. An Elite-grade artifact, it was standard issue for everyone at White-rank or above—a testament to the investment the top forces made towards their warriors.

"Sera, Rachel," I called as I approached the two figures standing at the edge of the corridor.

Both of them turned at the sound of my voice. Seraphina's crystalline blue eyes sparkled, her lips curling into a soft smile. Rachel, her golden hair catching the light, looked at me with warmth that made her sapphire gaze all the more striking.

"Ready?" I asked, my steps purposeful as I closed the distance between us.

Rachel tilted her head, her smile widening ever so slightly. "Always."

Seraphina gave a small nod, her expression calm but the determination in her eyes unmistakable. "We've been waiting for you."

"I hope not for too long," I said with a fond smile, my gaze shifting between Seraphina and Rachel.

Not long after, my eyes caught another figure approaching us. He moved with his usual confident stride, but there was a subtle hesitation in his steps, a wariness I couldn't ignore.

Lucifer.

I nodded toward him in quiet encouragement as he reached us. His presence was as commanding as ever—standing taller than me by a few inches, his muscular frame and powerful aura seemed almost larger than life.

"It's been a long time, Lucifer," I said, greeting him with a warm smile. I meant it, though the weight of our shared history lingered between us.

"It has," he replied, his tone measured. "I've heard a lot about your achievements."

There it was. Polite, composed—yet the underlying tension was palpable.

This was awkward. Painfully so.

'This is so awkward,' I thought, suppressing the urge to wince.

'What did you expect? It's Lucifer,' Luna chimed in my mind, her voice laced with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

'Didn't think a Qilin like you would bother keeping tabs on human drama,' I shot back, hoping to divert my own discomfort.

'Julius dealt with plenty of similar things,' she retorted, making her point with ease. I didn't bother arguing further.

The truth was, Lucifer and I were never particularly close. Back when I first entered this world, I had viewed him as the protagonist—the shining star I had to surpass. It wasn't personal, but my fixation on outdoing him had created a quiet distance between us.

And then I did surpass him.

And started dating Rachel.

That had been the final wedge. What remained now was a hollow camaraderie, a strained politeness that only served to emphasize how far we had drifted. Once, we had been allies, maybe even friends. Now, we were… what? Rivals? Strangers who happened to know each other too well?

It sucked. But there was no undoing it.

"Arthur," a familiar voice called, breaking the tension. I turned to see Seol-ah Moyong and Aria Gu approaching, their calm, assured presences grounding the moment.

The six of us now stood together, a group of young Integration-rankers among seasoned warriors. The youngest among an elite force.

It felt oddly isolating.

"Glad to see you're all here," Seol-ah said, her golden eyes sweeping over us with quiet appraisal. She carried herself with an elegance that felt almost at odds with the sharpness of her gaze—a blade wrapped in silk.

Aria gave a small nod of greeting, her expression neutral, though her crimson eyes seemed to linger on Lucifer for just a moment too long. "Ready for the mission?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," Seraphina replied, her tone clipped but not unkind.

Rachel gave a soft hum of agreement, adjusting her bow. Her gaze flickered briefly to me, her smile faint but reassuring. "Let's make it count."

Lucifer, for his part, remained silent, his eyes focused on the horizon—or perhaps on some distant thought. He always had that look about him, as if carrying the weight of a thousand expectations. I understood that weight now better than I ever had before, though I doubted he'd ever admit it aloud.

"Well," I said, forcing a note of levity into my voice, "here we are—the youngest in the room, about to head into a vampire-infested death trap. Nothing like a little camaraderie to ease the nerves, right?"

Seol-ah raised an eyebrow, and Aria's lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. Even Seraphina let out a faint huff of amusement.

"Right," Lucifer finally said, his voice low. There was no mirth in it, but it wasn't entirely devoid of warmth either. "Let's just hope we all walk out of there."

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears and truths. None of us acknowledged them directly, but they lingered all the same.

And then, without further delay, we began to move. Together, yet each carrying our own unspoken burdens.

The operation was meticulously divided into distinct phases, each with its own risks and objectives.

I was assigned to the distraction force under the leadership of Sun Zenith. It was a formidable group: Seraphina, Rachel, Lucifer, Seol-ah, Aria, and several other Integration-rankers, bolstered by five Ascendant-rankers. At the helm was Sun Zenith himself, standing at the cusp of peak Ascendant-rank.

Our task was simple in theory but treacherous in execution: attack the vampire subbranch and draw their attention. It was a gambit, a calculated move to divert their forces and weaken their defenses for the main assault. But simplicity ends where execution begins.

The vampires would not take kindly to an intrusion, and we knew it. They would send everything they could spare to crush us, which meant we would face a tide of enemies far stronger than what we were prepared for. In the chaos, we'd have to hold our ground, buying time for the others while ensuring our survival.

This wasn't a battle to be won; it was a battle to endure.

The strain of such an endeavor would be immense. To expend so much energy upfront, knowing full well it could leave us vulnerable later, was a gamble. But gambles were all we had in this war.