Morning
Lucien woke with a start, sweat beading his forehead. He drew deep breaths and pushed himself off the bed.
His eyes immediately landed on the stool beside him. The knife lay there, untouched. For a moment, he felt a strange clarity—as if the events of the night had been nothing but a dream.
The door creaked open. Amyra stepped in.
"It's 6 AM. Aren't you getting ready for training?"
Lucien turned to face his mother.
"Mom… I dreamed about him."
"About who, dear?" Amyra asked, worry lacing her voice.
"About my dad. Who exactly is he, Mom?"
Silence hung in the room. Amyra gave him a long, heavy look and sighed, clasping his hand.
"His name was Lucifer Veyl. I named you after him Lucien."
She gave him a weak smile.
"Your father… he was powerful. But more than that, he loved us—his family—more than anything. So much that he gave up everything for us. Not just his power… but his life."
Tears streaked her face as she hugged him. Lucien patted her back, steadying her.
"Don't worry, Mom. I'll always be there. Always."
Amyra nodded through her tears.
Something shifted in Lucien's eyes. Determination settled in, cold and unwavering, as if a decision had been made—one others would soon regret not knowing.
Just then, Seraphina burst in, her energy filling the room. Seeing Amyra half-hugging Lucien, half-wiping tears, she sensed something was wrong.
She rushed to Amyra.
"Mom! What's wrong? Did this dummy do something? I swear, Lucien, if you did something, I'll do something too! I'll—I'll scold you! Yes, scold you!"
Amyra smiled weakly.
"Nothing's wrong, silly girl. Get ready for training. You need to be there by 7. Oh, and I still have to make breakfast. Now go, both of you. I'm fine."
Sera returned the smile. Though she wasn't Amyra's daughter, she had been taken in years ago because she was Lucien's close friend. Over time, their bond had grown strong—family not by blood, but by choice.
Sera turned to Lucien, slightly awkwardly. He was already behind her, towering at 6'1". His smirk hinted he was enjoying this moment far more than he should.
"So… about doing something bad… what was that again?" he teased.
Sera tried to back away—until her back hit the wall. Lucien leaned closer, blocking her escape.
"You don't remember?" he said, grinning.
"No!" she stammered.
He smirked wider. "Then try scolding me now, my dear angel."
"Hmph! Who's your angel!" she muttered.
"I have to break that courage of yours in front of Mom," Lucien said. "Otherwise, you'll oppose me anytime. As of lately, you've been getting very … naughty."
"As if! Now let me go!" She said , blushing.
She wriggled free under his arm, casting him one last teasing glance.
"Get ready fast, dummy, or we'll get punished. And I'll keep opposing you!" she giggled, sticking out her tongue before leaving.
Lucien's smile lingered. "What a good way to start the day… but I'll deal with her later."
He took a deep breath and headed to the bathroom. The warm water washed over him as he reflected on the previous night.
Lucien's 6'1" frame was strong and sculpted—broad chest, chiseled abs, powerful legs. Pale skin complemented his dark hair and eyes, a striking figure even in the dim bathroom light.
"I will become the strongest sovereign. And I'll start with this camp."
After bathing, he dressed and joined Amyra and Sera in the small hall. The wooden table and four worn-out chairs looked ready to collapse under a feather, but they made do. Breakfast passed quietly, Lucien occasionally smiling at Sera—ignored by Amyra but noted.
Soon, it was time to leave for the training center. Lucien and Sera walked together, unusually quiet. The camp was no home—it was a prison disguised as a school. Here, children weren't taught to learn—they were taught to kill. Survival was the only law.
Noise was dangerous. Frustrated guards, sadistic trainers, and unstable madmen roamed the grounds.
Inside the classroom, the seats filled quickly. Instructor Remon strode in.
"You brats are almost all twenty, and now the time to repay the Retribution has come!" he barked. "Soon, you'll be assessed—your skills, knowledge, your worth. Now, tell me about the Great Civil War! You there, shorty!"
A small boy stood.
"Sir! In 2050, humanity's leaders became corrupt, fighting for resources. Nuclear bombs and environmental collapse devastated the world. By 2100, the population dropped from nine billion to one billion. Animals and plants mutated to survive. Humans lost ground. Then demons and angels arrived. Angels offered humans loyalty in exchange for protection and training, while demons slaughtered indiscriminately. The Great Ronan then founded the Retribution Army, and—"
Lucien stopped listening. The Retribution Army and their propaganda…
They twist the story. The official reason is unknown. Demons did kill and convert humans, but angels at least gave humans a choice. And their story paints themselves as flawless, while everyone else is worthless.
Applause followed—obligatory.
"Good, shorty," Remon said.
He scanned the class.
"Now, who'll tell me the power systems of humans, demons, angels, and beasts? You, glasses."
The bespectacled student stood nervously.
"Sir! Humans are ranked as Gene Initiate, Gene Adept, and Gene Awakened. Demons and angels follow their hierarchies—Spawns, Lower Class, Median Class, Upper Class, and Acolyte for demons; Lower Order, Middle Order, Upper Order, and Acolyte for angels. The strongest human is the Great Ronan, at Gene Warrior rank. Beasts are classified as Tier 1, Tier 2, Tier 3. Of course, un-awakened beasts exist—they're dangerous to normal people, but not included in this system!"
Remon's eyes gleamed.
"Correct. Now, all of you, follow me to the arena."
The students trailed him across the grounds. Lucien counted silently. Over 200 children had started ten years ago; training and hardship had reduced them to just sixty-two.
Europe's population is around 200 million. Over ten million are in the Retribution Army, plus millions of uncounted cannon fodder. That's roughly twenty million—a tenth of the population. Some might think a tenth can't control nine-tenths, but this tenth has Gene Awakeners, weapon monopolies, and total control. Small resistance groups exist, but they rarely survive.
This camp has a population of ten thousand, out of which, there are two thousand soldiers, most foot soldiers. Only a hundred officers hold real influence, as they are the Gene Awakeners. The camp leader is at most a strong Gene Initiate—they wouldn't assign a Gene Adept in a camp of this scale. I couldn't defeat the leader without awakening, but after this assessment, the gene serums will unlock our abilities. Then I'll be ready.
The arena loomed ahead. Remon's cruel smile widened.
"The assessment is simple—a battle royale."
Faces fell. Students realized they would have to fight—and possibly kill—their peers. But Remon raised a hand.
"Don't worry. You won't kill each other. We filter the weak. You are a team. Your opponents are beasts from the wild. Un-awakened, yes—but dangerous."
Serious expressions replaced hesitation as twenty massive pillars rose from the ground.
Remon chuckled.
"Ah, I almost forgot—there are only twenty serums. You'll have to get them yourselves. Oops!"
Cages at the edge of the arena burst open. Beasts poured out—feral dogs, hyenas, and even red-eyed tigers, hungry and snarling. The Retribution Army had truly gone all out.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. This is just the beginning.