Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Chapter 455 455: Battered Lucas 2

The chaos that had once defined the battlefield began to fade, not because the war had ended, but because something far more commanding had seized the attention of both sides, forcing blades to still and movements to slow as eyes turned toward a single, brutal spectacle unfolding at the center of it all. The clash of armies quieted into scattered exchanges, then into hesitant stillness, until soldiers from both Valerion and the usurper's forces found themselves watching, their breaths held, their focus drawn entirely to the figure being relentlessly broken under Ken's assault.

Lucas.

He could barely stand now, his body swaying under its own weight, his movements reduced to instinct rather than control, black corrupted blood covering his face, blinding him completely as it streamed down from his wounds. Every breath he took sounded labored, every attempt to steady himself looked like it could be his last, and yet he remained upright, not by strength alone, but by something deeper, something that refused to let him fall even when everything else in him demanded it.

Ken stood before him, unhurried now, his earlier fury settling into something colder, something more deliberate as he took in the state Lucas had been reduced to. The battlefield had quieted enough that his voice carried clearly, cutting through the tense silence that had fallen over both armies.

"Look at you," he said, his tone calm, almost conversational, as though he were observing something beneath him. "This is what happens when you overreach."

Lucas said nothing.

He could not see.

He could barely breathe.

But he stood.

Ken tilted his head slightly, studying him, then continued, his voice lowering just enough to carry a sharper edge.

"You've done enough to impress me," he said. "More than I expected from someone at your level."

A pause followed, not out of hesitation, but intention.

"Beg," Ken added, his gaze hardening. "Beg for your life, and I might let you live."

The words hung in the air, heavy, deliberate, echoing across a battlefield that had gone completely still, every soldier, every survivor now watching, waiting for the response that would follow.

For a moment, Lucas remained silent, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he struggled to gather enough strength to even form words, the weight of his injuries pressing down on him from every side.

Then…He spoke. "…Never…"

The word came out rough, strained, barely more than a breath, but it carried clearly enough, carried with a defiance that refused to bend even in that state.

Ken's expression did not change immediately, but something in his eyes sharpened slightly, the faintest flicker of irritation surfacing beneath the surface.

From the distance, a surge of movement broke the stillness.

The King.

He had seen enough.

Without hesitation, he broke from his position, his sword already in motion as he charged forward, his intent clear, his focus locked entirely on reaching Lucas before Ken could strike again. There was no calculation in that moment, no weighing of odds, only the instinct of a ruler unwilling to watch one of his own be executed before his eyes.

The general saw it instantly.

And moved to intercept.

He stepped in with urgency, his earth element responding as the ground shifted to block the King's path, stone rising to halt his advance, forcing him into a direct confrontation once more.

"You'll die if you go any further!" the general shouted, his voice strained but firm as he attempted to hold him back.

King Highmoor did not slow.

His sword came down with overwhelming force, cleaving through the rising stone, shattering it apart as though it were nothing, his momentum carrying through as he struck again, forcing the general back despite his defenses.

"I decide that!" the King replied, his voice carrying raw authority as he pushed forward, breaking through the obstruction with sheer power and skill.

For a brief moment…He got through.

He closed the distance, his eyes fixed on Lucas, his intent clear as he moved to intervene, to pull him out, to stand between him and the man who sought to end him.

But Ken was faster.

Without even fully turning his body, he reacted, his hand lifting slightly as a surge of power condensed instantly, and in the next moment, it was released.

The attack struck the King mid-motion.

The impact was devastating.

It hit him before he could fully brace, the force of it lifting him off his feet and sending him hurling backward across the battlefield, his body crashing into the ground with violent force as he was thrown far from the center of the fight.

Silence fell again.

Deeper than before.

Because in that single exchange, one truth had been made painfully clear to everyone watching.

Even the King could not reach him. Could not stop him.

And Lucas was still standing there alone.

Ken did not stop, not even after the King had been struck away, not even after it became clear to everyone watching that there was no one left who could reach Lucas in time, because in his mind, this had already become something personal, something that demanded complete submission, and so he stepped forward again and continued, each strike deliberate, each blow meant not just to injure but to break, to crush whatever remained of Lucas's resistance until there was nothing left but desperation and surrender, yet no matter how many times he struck him, no matter how much blood spilled, Lucas did not give him what he wanted, and that refusal only fueled Ken further as he forced him again and again to beg, his voice cutting through the silence each time, demanding it, expecting it, but never receiving it.

Around them, the others did not remain idle, because they could not, not while watching someone they cared for being reduced to such a state, and so they moved again and again despite knowing the outcome, the girls pushing forward with everything they had left, Lira with reckless determination, Selene torn between protecting Henrietta and trying to intervene, Nyx forcing her exhausted body to respond, the Ice Belle struggling against her injuries to regain control, while Captain Varran and Commander Alexander charged in with the discipline of seasoned warriors, and even the King, despite being thrown away moments before, forced himself up once more and tried again, but each attempt ended the same way, Ken barely acknowledging them as threats as he struck them aside with overwhelming force, sending them hurling back before they could even get close, dismissing them like interruptions rather than opponents, and every time he did, he returned to Lucas, to continue what he had started, to finish what he believed was inevitable.

Lucas could no longer hold himself up, his body finally giving in to the damage as his legs failed beneath him, his strength drained to the point where standing was no longer possible, and so he dropped, his knees hitting the ground with a dull, heavy impact that echoed louder than it should have in the silence that had taken over the battlefield, his head lowered slightly, his breathing uneven, his body trembling from the accumulated strain, yet even then, even in that position, he did not collapse completely, did not fall forward, did not lie down, he remained upright in the only way he could, kneeling before the man who stood a few meters away from him.

Ken stopped advancing for a moment, watching him, his expression settling into something colder, more expectant, as though this was the moment he had been waiting for, the point where resistance finally broke and reality set in, and so he spoke again, his voice carrying across the silent battlefield, asking once more, offering the same condition, the same humiliation disguised as mercy, demanding that Lucas beg for his life if he wished to keep it.

Lucas said nothing at first, his breathing heavy, his body barely holding together, yet within him, nothing had changed, because his ego, his pride, and his willpower remained intact, untouched by everything that had been done to him, and so even in that state, even on his knees, even blind and broken, he refused again, not with words this time, but with silence, with the simple fact that he did not yield, did not bow his head in submission, did not give Ken what he wanted.

Across the battlefield, that refusal did not go unnoticed, because the soldiers of Valerion watched him, truly watched him now, not just as a fighter, not just as someone powerful, but as something more, something unbreakable, and in that moment, their respect for him grew into something deeper, something almost reverent, because they had never seen anyone endure like this, never seen someone pushed so far and still refuse to bend, still refuse to surrender, still refuse to beg even when death stood directly before them.

Then something unexpected happened.

Lucas laughed.

At first, it was low, almost indistinct, barely audible beneath his ragged breathing, but then it grew, rising into something louder, something unrestrained, a sound that did not belong to someone in his condition, because he laughed not lightly, not weakly, but fully, maniacally, the sound breaking through the silence and echoing across the battlefield in a way that made everyone freeze.

It made no sense.

His body was broken.

His vision gone.

His life hanging by a thread.

And yet he laughed.

He laughed so hard that it should have torn through him completely, the pain in his head, in his stomach, in his lungs, all of it screaming against the act, yet he did not stop, the sound continuing, unrestrained, almost unhinged, as though something deep within him had found amusement in a moment where none should exist.

Ken's expression shifted, irritation flashing clearly now as he stared at him, unable to understand, unable to accept what he was seeing, because this was not how it was supposed to go, this was not how someone on the verge of death was meant to react.

Around them, others were just as stunned, their confusion evident as they watched Lucas laugh in a state where he should not even have the strength to speak, let alone react in such a way, their minds struggling to grasp what could possibly cause such a response.

But Lucas knew.

Only Lucas knew.

Because beneath the pain, beneath the blood, beneath the destruction that had been inflicted upon him, there was something else.

Ken was about to meet his doom. And that was why he laughed.