Chapter 81 Chapter Twenty Eight
The chains didn’t snap this time. They melted. Metal turned liquid, then light, pouring off Lucian's body like molten gold. The bone walls recoiled, curling away from him. Harrow shouted something, but he couldn’t hear it — he was already standing.
From the shadows, Valen emerged—a figure of molten glass and burning gold, his presence reshaping the air into something thick and electric. His every motion was grace wrapped in menace, a storm contained within striking form.
“Hi, servant,” he said, voice smooth yet edged with bitter amusement. “It’s been too long since we’ve met… face to face, body to body.”
The sound of footsteps cracked sharply against bone floor. Doctor Harrow appeared, his usual composure giving way to genuine astonishment and reverence. His breath caught, eyes wide and shining in the dim light. “Valen. To behold you thus… it is the greatest honor, beyond what I dared to hope.”
Valen’s smile spread slowly, dangerous and deep. “I almost didn’t believe it myself. That impudent fragment—you called him Vale. I thought it would be a partial union, a mere fraction… ten percent at best. But no. He’s become whole. Every fragment, perfectly fused into me.”
Harrow nodded, swallowing hard. “It’s true. The bond is absolute. Unbreakable.”
A tense pause stretched between them. The chamber thrummed with underlying power—a living heartbeat of ancient magic. Then, without warning, Valen’s energy released in a brutal wave, a tempest of raw power and fury that crashed into Harrow like a thunderclap. The doctor staggered, wobbling on the edge of unconsciousness.
The cavern hummed, vibrant with power. Shadows writhed in the shifting bone walls, as if eager witnesses to what would come.
Valen’s tone dropped, thick with mockery as he caught the stunned gaze of the man he once called ‘Servant.’ “How rude,” he mused. “Looking at me so intently, as if daring to measure what you cannot fathom.”
He fixed Harrow’s gaze with molten intensity. “Kneel.”
The command felt heavy, creating a strong pressure. Harrow’s pride flared up, a defiant spark in his eyes, but he hesitated, struggling against the inevitability that held him back.
He sank, slow and reluctant, knees meeting bone floor with the sound of surrender.
Valen’s laughter was a cruel melody, rising through the chamber like wildfire. Darkness responded, coiling around them in waves of power that shook his very bones.
“Though,” Valen said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “you tried. Serving loyally, fulfilling your duty to prepare a vessel suitable for this lord.”
Harrow’s eyes flickered with pain and stubborn pride. He swallowed, voice thick but steady. “Yes, I served—for centuries. Even beyond death, when your vessels rejected you, I carried your essence through all, sacrificed endlessly for your greatness... for your lordship!”
The air grew colder, heavier—Valen’s presence darkening like a gathering storm. “A stirring speech,” he murmured approvingly, “full of loyalty and sacrifice.”
A slow, venomous grin curved Valen’s lips. “However… there is one truth you have not yet accepted.”
The chamber quieted, breath held captive in the heavy silence.
“You will have to die.”
Shock rippled across Harrow’s face, quickly curdling into panic. “Wait—wait! You can’t take me. Not after everything I’ve done for you.” His voice wavered as he stumbled closer, hands half‑raised in supplication. “I gave you everything. I kept the Orchard alive. I brought you a vessel—your vessel. Every sacrifice, every death, it was all for you!”
The tension was heavy between them. From the edges of the cavern, six forms stirred—pride, envy, wrath, gluttony, sloth, greed—each a living sin awakened by the surge of power. Their terrible voices rose, a chorus as old as time itself, calling for reckoning.
Valen rose fully then, throne forgotten as the dark king took his claim, the embodiment of sin, hunger, and destiny. Waves of energy cascaded from him, His power was so immense it radiated outward, affecting the physical space.
Valen raised his fingers towards Harrow who lifted the shard, desperate. “Bind him!”
The command struck like a hammer — the kind that used to break Vale. But it didn’t land. It passed through.
“You lost that right the moment you touched her,” Valen said coldly, moving with a speed the human eye could not comprehend—beyond the limits of the supernatural. In an instant, he struck, crushing Harrow’s chest with a force that shattered not just bone but will, splintering his heart and tearing his soul into fragments. The air itself seemed to recoil from the violence, crackling with dark energy as Valen’s aura expanded, a suffocating storm of sin and judgment. Harrow’s scream was swallowed before it left his lips, leaving only silence.
Valen stood with a look of satisfaction on his face as he stared at the pool of blood that had spilled on the floor.
And then he turned, his chains whipped outward, cutting through the ribs that bound the others. Enoch fell, coughing. Ciel screamed in delight as light replaced pain. One by one, they were freed but they—vale and valen didn’t stop to watch.
They only saw her.
Salem’s face was half-buried in bone, her eyes glazed with terror and confusion. They reached for her.
“Lucian!” she gasped, choking. “Don’t—”
“I told you not to come here,” Vale whispered, voice cracking. “But you did.”
“Because I—” Her voice broke, drowned in pain.
Their hands closed around Salem’s, her skin slick with blood and dust. For one breath, the world stilled.
Then everything broke.
The Orchard tore itself apart. Bones split down the middle, light erupted from the floor, and a monstrous scream echoed through the void as the shard on the floor shattered, spilling darkness that the light devoured.