Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Chapter 408: Lucas’s Cumulative breakdown

For a moment after the General’s retreat, there was only wind moving through broken stone and melting frost.

Then it began.

One soldier lifted his blade into the air and shouted.

Another followed.

Within seconds, the entire Valerion erupted into triumphant roars that rolled across the valley like thunder. Weapons struck shields. Spears pounded against frozen ground. Men who moments ago had been bracing for annihilation now stood upright, voices hoarse but fierce with disbelief and pride.

They had held.

They had survived the first clash against a numerically superior force.

More than that, they had forced a third stage Sage to withdraw.

The sound was not merely celebration. It was release. It was defiance. It was the sudden return of breath after nearly drowning.

Across the fractured battlefield, officers scrambled to reform ranks, tend to the wounded, and secure the perimeter, but even discipline could not suppress the surge of morale that now pulsed through the army. Faces that had been pale with dread before the charge were now flushed with fierce confidence.

They had seen it with their own eyes.

The usurpers could bleed.

And they could retreat.

Yet at the center of it all, Lucas stood unmoving.

The cold wind brushed against his torn armor. Blood darkened the front of his armour and cloth, soaking through fabric where the General’s blade had carved into him. His breathing had grown shallow, uneven. The Dragon’s Inferno inside his dantian churned violently now that the immediate pressure of combat had lifted, its unstable heat clashing against chilled meridians strained to their limit.

The edges of his vision blurred.

The world felt distant.

The cheers around him became muffled echoes.

He tried to take a step forward but his leg gave out.

The ground rushed up to meet him.

Before his body could fully strike the ice, two nearby soldiers caught him under the arms. One of them shouted for assistance, panic replacing triumph as they realized who had fallen.

"Commander!"

More hands reached out immediately. They lowered him carefully, but his eyes were already losing focus. Blood traced from the corner of his mouth again, darker this time.

The Ice Belle landed beside him briefly, frost dissipating as her domain retracted. She did not show panic, but her gaze lingered a fraction longer than usual on the unnatural heat still radiating faintly from his chest.

"Move," she ordered evenly.

The soldiers obeyed without hesitation.

Four of them lifted Lucas carefully and began carrying him back toward Valerion’s main line, where the royal standard stood firm against the wind.

At the rear of the formation, beneath banners that had not faltered even during the worst of the charge, the King stood watching.

Beside him were General Varran and Commander Alexander, both silent, both having witnessed the entirety of the final duel.

They had seen Lucas press a third stage Sage.

They had seen him bleed.

And they had seen the usurper General retreat.

As the soldiers approached carrying the unconscious commander, the King stepped forward.

The triumphant roars still echoed behind them, but here, near the command standard, a heavy quiet settled.

Lucas’ head lolled slightly as they lowered him carefully onto a prepared cloak.

His eyes were barely open now, unfocused and glassy.

The King’s expression remained composed, but his gaze sharpened at the sight of the severe wounds and the faint, unstable heat flickering beneath Lucas’ skin.

Victory had been secured.

But it had come at a cost.

Lucas’ body trembled faintly even in unconsciousness.

It was not the tremor of cold, it was internal, his meridians were in chaos.

The Dragon’s Inferno he had barely survived had never truly settled. It lingered deep within his dantian like a caged sun, unstable and proud. Every time he forced his fire techniques into compression during the battle, he had scraped against that volatile core.

Now it was reacting.

Heat pulsed beneath his skin in irregular waves. His veins faintly glowed in jagged patterns before dimming again. His face still visibly charred from the earlier dragon encounter. With the mask shattered during his clash with the General, nothing concealed the damage anymore.

If not for the steady stream of celestial essence flowing through him, the Empress’ power acting like a stabilizing current, his meridians might have collapsed entirely under the strain.

Even so, they were fraying.

Lira knelt closest to him, hands trembling as she held his wrist. "His pulse is unstable," she whispered, panic barely restrained.

Selene stood on the other side, her usual composure cracked. She pressed her palm lightly against his chest, channeling her energy gently, but the moment her cultivation brushed against the chaotic heat within him, she winced.

"It’s fighting everything," she said quietly. "The fire... it’s not dormant."

Nyx remained silent, her sharp gaze scanning his body with unsettling calm. "It never was," she murmured. "He forced it down. He didn’t tame it."

A faint surge of heat rippled outward from Lucas’ core, enough to melt frost along the edges of the ground despite the Ice Belle standing nearby.

The Ice Belle watched closely, her usual serenity replaced with visible concern. She extended her senses carefully, allowing only the lightest thread of cold to brush against his meridians.

The reaction was immediate.

The Dragon’s Inferno flared violently in response to her frost affinity, scorching against her probe like an animal snapping at a threat.

She withdrew at once.

"If I force suppression," she said quietly, "it may rupture his channels."

Lira’s fingers tightened around Lucas’ hand.

"He just fought a third-stage Sage..." she whispered. "He shouldn’t even have been standing."

"He shouldn’t have been fighting at all," Selene replied, voice lower now. "He hasn’t fully recovered since the dragon."

Nyx’s gaze shifted toward the command tent.

"Where is Jennifer?"

As if summoned by the question, Tom sprinted into view, breath ragged from running. His armor was smeared with soot and blood, but he didn’t slow until he reached them.

"I found her," he said urgently. "She’s coming."

Moments later, Jennifer pushed through the gathered soldiers.

The healer from Lucas’ squad moved with controlled urgency, kneeling immediately beside him. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw his exposed face, burn scars still faintly etched along his skin, fresh wounds from the General, and the faint internal glow that pulsed unpredictably beneath.

She placed both hands over his dantian region and closed her eyes.

A soft green aura flowed from her palms, probing carefully.

Her expression tightened almost immediately.

"He’s collapsing from cumulative breakdown," she said. "His meridians were already damaged from surviving the Dragon’s Inferno. He forced high-compression fire techniques repeatedly. The internal strain is tearing them open again."

Lira swallowed. "Can you stabilize him?"

Jennifer hesitated only a fraction.

"I can prevent immediate rupture," she said. "But this isn’t just physical damage. The inferno inside him is resisting integration. It’s like trying to hold a volcano inside cracked stone."

Another pulse of heat surged outward. Lucas’ body arched slightly, a low sound escaping his throat despite unconsciousness.

Selene gripped his shoulder gently. "Xavier..."

The celestial essence flowing within him shimmered faintly, weaving through damaged channels like threads of golden light trying to stitch torn fabric.

Jennifer’s healing aura intensified.

"I need space," she said firmly. "No one channel energy into him unless I say so. If opposing elements clash inside him right now, it could trigger a backlash."

The Ice Belle stepped back immediately, frost retracting further to reduce atmospheric interference.

Tom moved to push back nearby soldiers, creating a clear perimeter.

The triumphant energy of victory had faded near this circle. Now there was only tension.

Lucas had led the charge.

He had pressed a realm higher.

He had forced a General to retreat.

But his body had paid for every second of it.

And if the inferno within him decided to surge without control.

This battlefield victory might be followed by a loss far more devastating.