As Damiond watched the blonde soldier's body tumble down the slope, his eyes shifted toward Aster. His expression remained unreadable, but the silence hanging in the air carried its own message—danger, curiosity, suspicion—all layered together.
Aster stiffened under his gaze, but forced a shaky smile onto his face, both hands raised in surrender.
"Alright, alright… calm down. I'll explain," Aster said, a strained attempt at humor cracking through his words. His voice faltered beneath the weight of Damiond's stare.
"I want to make a deal," Aster continued, cutting straight to the point. There was no room to stall; one wrong word would be the end of him. "I'll tell you everything you want to know… just let me live."
"Is that so…" Damiond's voice was low, suspicious, yet steady as stone. His eyes never left Aster, his fingers resting near the hilt of his blade, ready to strike at the faintest threat.
"How many soldiers and aura masters were sent to these mountains?" Damiond finally asked. Snowflakes clung to his hair, his breath curling into the frozen air, but there wasn't even a flicker of emotion on his face.
Aster swallowed hard but kept his smile alive, knowing hesitation could be fatal.
"There are seven minor families after you," Aster answered quickly. "More could join, but for now, seven. Each sent around three thousand human soldiers… a hundred Acolyte … ten Warriors … maybe even Knights , though I can't confirm."
The cold breeze howled between them, but Damiond's posture didn't change. His sword hung steady at his side, the faint shimmer of his aura pulsing faintly with the snowstorm.
"What about my family?" Damiond asked next, his voice sharp as a blade. "Have they sent anyone? What are their movements?"
Aster's face twitched with frustration. He forced his voice to stay level. "You know how your family operates. They don't share information with outsiders… not even with their allies."
Damiond stood silent for a moment, his eyes locked onto Aster with an unsettling calm. After a few breaths, he spoke again.
"How are you maintaining the supply lines out here? These mountains would starve a hundred men, let alone thousands."
There was a subtle change in his tone this time—a flicker of curiosity cutting through the frost.
Aster noticed and leaned into it, his forced smile widening.
"We're using Zephyraunt for transport. They carry rations to our temporary base… from there, food's distributed to the troops."
He rushed his words, terrified that hesitation would be misread as deceit.
Damiond gave a slight nod, but his face remained unreadable, his eyes narrowing as his next question came.
"And what about Veyloris ? What have they been doing these last three years?"
This time, Aster's confidence cracked. His brows furrowed, genuine confusion flickering across his face.
Shouldn't Damiond know this? He was one of the young masters of Veyrath Ashvane. But… wasn't it three years ago that Damiond's punishment began? No one outside the family truly knew what he had done, but the rumors were vicious. They said Damiond had insulted the family's lord himself. His punishment? His aura awakening delayed until he was eighteen—two years later than the norm.
Aster shoved the questions aside. His life was the only thing that mattered right now.
"They haven't made any major moves," Aster answered quickly. "Despite being one of the strongest mage families, they've stayed loyal to the contract… no attacks against any {sword master} family. Their reputation with other mage families has crumbled because of it."
As the words left his mouth, he noticed the shift in Damiond's expression—rage, sharp and raw, burning beneath the cold exterior.
Aster's heart stumbled. Did I say something wrong? No… it's something deeper. Something to do with {family name}… with the mage family…
Before he could piece it together, Damiond spoke again.
"Aster," his voice low, simmering with quiet fury, "Now that I've had my answers… there's one more thing I need to know."
Aster stayed quiet, barely breathing, his pulse pounding against his ribs.
"Did you really think you could fool me so easily?"
The words hit harder than any blade. Aster's face darkened with resolve as his forced smile vanished. His fingers twitched, revealing the small ball he had concealed earlier. In one swift motion, he hurled it into the sky.
But Damiond had seen it coming.
His sword shot upward, spinning through the air like a flash of light, slicing the object cleanly in half before it reached its peak.
Aster's eyes widened in shock, but before he could react further, Damiond lunged forward, his speed splitting the air, leaving ripples of force in his wake. In the blink of an eye, his hand clamped around Aster's throat, lifting him off the ground.
As Aster dangled, gasping for breath, Damiond's voice rumbled with controlled rage.
"Oh, and one last thing… what rank is Lucian Veyloris now?"
Aster struggled, his voice broken and strained.
"Ra… rank… five Ma—"
SNAP
The sharp crack of bone echoed through the frozen mountain.
Aster's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Blood trickled from his nose onto the snow, staining the pure white in crimson. His head lolled at an impossible angle, eyes wide open, glassy, empty—a void where life once lingered.
Damiond stood over him, breath steady as flakes drifted onto his shoulders.
"I guess I'll have to wait on my revenge after all," he muttered to himself, his voice a quiet storm of frustration and simmering wrath.
Lucian Veyloris … Rank Five… nearly equal to {sword family rank}… For now.