A thousand thoughts erupted inside Lucius's mind. His instincts, his internal voices and he himself, were finally aligned, screaming in unison:
'Fuck this guy!'
Every part of him—his bones, his blood, his soul—rejected the absurdity of what was being asked. To accept such a warped deal felt worse than death. Far worse, because dying young, as a human, still meant dying free.
But living long, shackled to another's will, meant surviving only to watch his agency decay. To be trapped in the shell of an old man burdened by choices he didn't truly make, yet haunted by their consequences all the same... If he did manage to survive for that long.
Confusion. Anger. Regret.
They crashed and twisted inside him, each emotion folding into the next, condensing into something heavier, something unignorable. Yet beneath all of it, there was an inevitability clawing at his chest—time was running out. He could feel it. There would be no room to renegotiate, no space for clever wording or resistance. Just a single answer.
Yes. Or no... In two words.
And the worst part? Zero Dawn had already made it clear that even if he did bring Lucius back, he wouldn't restore him fully. Wouldn't heal him completely. Wouldn't help him—only use him. Whatever "resurrection" the Dragon Emperor had planned, it was laced with conditions, caveats, and cruelties.
Who would've guessed that the so-called godlike figure worshipped in countless legends—the noble saviour of the Verdun, wise ruler who placed others above himself—was nothing more than a heartless, self-serving manipulator? The myths were wrong... So very wrong.
Lucius had believed them. Stories passed down from elder to child, portraits of greatness painted with reverence and awe. And now, standing here, face-to-face with the real Zero Dawn, he could see the truth. The man behind the 'godlike persona'... And he was nothing like the legends.
Zero Dawn raised a single finger and began to rotate it slowly through the air, gesturing for Lucius to look around him. The surrounding realm remained deceptively peaceful and calmness that didn't match the situation. But Lucius understood. This peace existed solely because Zero Dawn allowed it to.
Should he will it, the realm would twist, collapse, or burn in the blink of an eye. The illusion of tranquillity was his to uphold—or shatter.
Still, Lucius hesitated. He gave himself one last moment. One last chance to analyze, to really understand how screwed he was.
And the truth? He was completely screwed, because as much as he wanted to scream no and spit in the Emperor's face, he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't.
No young sentient being wants to die young—not truly. Especially not when they have people to protect and goals to accomplish. Especially not when their death would mean abandoning a family, and leaving an entire empire defenceless against forces that even folklore dared not mention casually.
Lucius was going to say yes to slavery, because not saying yes would mean admitting, beyond all doubt, that his life—everything he had fought for, endured, and survived—was a failure. A permanent, undeniable truth, and he wasn't ready to let that be the last thing he left behind.
"I… do," Lucius mumbled under his breath.
Zero Dawn heard him clearly—of that there was no doubt—but the Dragon Emperor chose to play deaf, feigning ignorance with deliberate flair. He was enjoying this—every second of Lucius's torment, dragging it out like a leisurely performance.
Lucius glanced up, but couldn't hold the Emperor's gaze. His eye drifted away, unable—unwilling—to meet the violet stare bearing down on him. Zero Dawn leaned in mockingly, cupping his ear with a smirk.
"Didn't catch that," the Emperor said with theatrical confusion, his voice laced with mockery.
Lucius's jaw clenched. Anger surged through him, but he suppressed it. There was nothing he could do. No fight to pick. No escape to chase. Just—
"I do," he repeated, this time loud and clear.
Zero Dawn straightened and took a single step back, satisfaction evident in the slight upward curl of his lips. With a small wave of his hand, he gestured for Lucius to rise.
Lucius stood slowly, the weight of his answer settling in like chains around his limbs. He had said it. Agreed to it. Bound himself. Property—that was what he had become. A broken, battered possession of the Dragon Emperor.
And yet… beneath the horror, beneath the dread that gnawed at his sanity, a strange relief stirred inside him. Not enough to erase the despair, but enough to make him wonder if this wasn't truly the end, just a different kind of survival.
Zero Dawn remained silent, allowing the enchantment to take hold. The golden words that had circled Lucius earlier now reacted. They shimmered brighter, then collapsed inward—into him.
Lucius gasped as the symbols crashed into his skin, not just against it, but through it. He felt them burn, felt them twist.
'No…!' his mind screamed. 'It's not just my body—it's bonding with my soul!'
Of course. This place… this realm—it wasn't physical. It existed within his mind. This was his soul's representation, and the form he stood in was a reflection of it.
The glowing words began to shift, changing shapes, warping in size, their gold giving way to black, and then, unexpectedly, to a soft, glowing pink. The light spread quickly, bathing the realm in a strange, warm hue, gentle and radiant. Even Zero Dawn paused, taken aback by the transformation, his gaze sharpening.
"What is this?" Lucius asked, eyes wide as he watched the runes weave across his form, crafting intricate patterns—unique in design, yet harmonious. They danced across his arms, over his chest, up his neck—no inch left untouched.
"That," Zero Dawn finally spoke, his voice calm but clearly intrigued, "is what we call runes. A binding mana technique. They fuse the contract to your soul itself, allowing me to exert complete authority over you—and, should I choose, through you, which we just agreed upon, collectively."
He was still watching Lucius with that strange curiosity now, as if something had shifted beyond his control.
Lucius swallowed, his voice brittle. "Collectively, huh?" he muttered, scanning the runes wrapping around him—Zero Dawn's gift, offered so generously. And irrevocably.
"You knew what this was," Zero Dawn replied, smooth and steady. "I never lied to you. Never promised hope. I didn't need to. Sugarcoating things may have been easier, more efficient, but I gave you the truth."
Lucius didn't respond right away. The light of the runes reflected in his eye as he looked down at his hand, no longer his own. Not fully, and perhaps, never again.
"What now, Zero Da—"
The name had barely slipped from Lucius's mouth before a searing, wire-like force clamped around his throat.
Invisible, sharp, and unrelenting, it gripped him with such sudden ferocity that his legs gave out beneath him.
The pain was short-lived, yet agonising—seconds stretched into eternity as the invisible noose choked the breath from him.
Then, just as suddenly, it vanished.
Lucius hit the ground hard, gasping, his hand instinctively reaching up to cradle his throat. His lone arm trembled as it tried to soothe the lingering sting. His eye—bloodshot and filled with rage—glared up at the Dragon Emperor.
Zero Dawn stood where he was, unfazed, his expression that of mild amusement.
"Master, Lucius," he corrected, voice calm, mocking. "Or Lord, if you insist on using full titles. It's your choice, really."
Lucius didn't answer. His fingers clenched around his bruised neck as he gave the Emperor a look that could've split the sky—a silent scream of defiance and curses wrapped into one.
Zero Dawn, ever theatrical, tilted his head slightly. "That was interesting. Now you know how I felt… back then."
Lucius's glare deepened, burning with an unspoken retort:
'I didn't ask to relive your damn trauma.'
Still, he swallowed the venom and chose his next words carefully.
"…What now?"
The tone was different this time. Calculated. Stripped of names, titles, or the slightest reverence.
Zero Dawn's smile returned—calm, patronising, deliberate.
"Oh, it's simple," he began, as if discussing afternoon tea. "Once we're finished here—which we will be in the next few minutes, by my estimations—you'll wake up somewhere. Don't ask me where, because I don't know, nor do I care."
Lucius's eye narrowed. 'What a wanna-be nonchalant prick...'
"You'll have one month. A full month of life, gifted by the heavens—or by me, if we're being honest."
Zero Dawn stepped closer, his arms casually behind his back. "During that time, I expect you to ascend to SS-rank. Not S+. Not S++. SS."
Lucius stiffened.
"How do you do it? That's your problem. Why must you? Because I said so. Consider it… a condition of your continued existence."
Lucius's jaw clenched.
"Oh, and another thing," Zero Dawn continued. "Cut ties with that wind mage. What was her name again? Sara, was it?"
"And that mentor of yours. They're distractions. Emotional anchors. Chains you cannot afford if you want to evolve. Their presence hampers your growth. And I won't tolerate it any longer."
He paused, letting his words sink in before delivering the final blow.
"After your time is up, you will seek me out. My real body, the one sealed in the dimensional vault I mentioned. I'll guide you—personally, in fact—toward myself."
Lucius felt the pressure inside him boil. These weren't terms. These were commands. Ridiculous, invasive, and unreasonably personal. He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but—
Nothing came out, no sound, no syllable... Not even a voiced-up breath. He was confused as he tried again, but Nothing came forth.
His gaze snapped toward Zero Dawn, who raised his left hand and lightly rotated his index finger through the air in a slow arc.
"I don't recall giving you permission to speak," he said, with the lazy cruelty of a man fully aware of his dominance.
Panic twisted inside Lucius. He tried to summon mana, even just a sliver of it—telekinesis, anything—but nothing stirred. The mana around him ignored his presence. Even the mana within him… was silent.
Sort of dead as his eye widened in dawning horror.