The Weak Prince Is A Cultivation God

Bells of Solaris rang at midnight.

Not for worship. They rang for blood.

Lanard's army came, a pack of wolves through the east gate, a tide of shadows against the stone walls of the capital. Barely more than a hundred men surged forward, but each one bore talismans, scars, and killing intent enough to unmake ten times their number.

The defenders were waiting.

An army of thousands stood braced within the outer courtyard — mages, swordsmen, city guards, and the king's personal household troops.

Torches burned against the night, the flickering light gilding their polished armor. Behind them, priests raised staves, weaving barriers of white light across the streets leading deeper into the city.

The clash came as sudden as it were violent.

Lan's soldiers struck like thunderbolts. Garran smashed through a barricade with his bare fists, splinters flying as men screamed and scattered before him.

Bragg vanished into smoke, reappearing behind a mage whose spell fizzled the instant his poisoned blade touched his spine. Halmer limped at the rear, barking orders that shifted the small force like a single spear thrusting into the enemy's gut.

And Venom…

Venom moved through the chaos like inescapable death. His jagged scar gleamed in the torchlight, cruel eyes scanning the battlefield.

The crimson scarf around his wrist was dark with blood before the first ten heartbeats passed. He slipped past shields, shattered spears, and left nothing but corpses gasping behind him.

For every hundred defenders that fell, two of Lan's wolves were cut down. Blood slicked the cobblestones. Steel rang. Mana and Qi crackled as spells detonated, lighting the courtyard in strobing flashes of fire and lightning.

It was here, amid the screaming ruin, that Venom saw him.

The First Guard.

He stood at the foot of the central stairway, guarding the path to the inner capital. Broad-shouldered, clad in layered black plate chased with silver markings.

His eyes glowed faintly with azure light, and the air around him beat with the rhythm of a 5th Circle mage.

In his hand, he carried not a sword, but a halberd whose blade hissed with frost. Each breath he exhaled frosted the air before him.

"Mad Viper," the First Guard called, voice carrying even above the clash of battle. "You've crawled far from your hole."

Venom's lips twisted into a grin that was all teeth. "And you've stood too long at your master's heel."

They stared down one another as the battle raged. Soldiers drew back instinctively, giving the ground to them, sensing that something larger than themselves was about to unfold.

The First Guard moved first.

His halberd carved through the air, releasing a crescent of ice that roared across the courtyard.

Venom darted forward, his body low, movements more animal than man. His aura flared — Blood Siphon.

The crimson haze radiated from his skin, drinking in the life of the dying all around them. Corpses stiffened, their veins darkening as their blood leapt invisibly into Venom's lungs. His stride lengthened, his cuts healed as they opened.

The crescent of ice split stone where he had been a moment earlier.

Venom closed the distance in a blur, jagged dagger flashing. The First Guard twisted, halberd intercepting the strike with a hiss of steel on steel. Frost spread across Venom's dagger, creeping toward his hand.

He hissed and pulled back, shaking the ice free. His grin never wavered.

"You bleed too slow," Venom sneered. "That'll cost you."

The First Guard said nothing. His eyes narrowed, and mana surged through the runes of his armor. He spun the halberd in a wide arc. A wall of frost burst outward, shoving Venom back.

Venom staggered, then steadied himself, planting his boots. His aura burned brighter, feeding on the lifeblood spilling across the courtyard. The more men that died around him, the stronger he became. His eyes gleamed with feral delight.

He lunged again, this time weaving between the Guard's sweeping strikes. Dagger after dagger flickered in his hands, each coated in venom that smoked where it touched the halberd's frost.

The Guard blocked them all, his halberd whirling like a storm. His expression remained cold, unbroken.

"Your tricks won't save you," the Guard finally spoke. His voice carried weight, not arrogance. "The king's will does not falter. Neither do I."

Venom laughed, sharp and bitter. "The king's will? You chain your life to a dying beast and excuse it as strength."

The halberd slammed down, cracking stone. Ice surged up like a geyser, threatening to engulf Venom's legs. He leapt aside, rolling, then sprang back with a snarl.

"You want to know what strength is?" Venom spat. His aura flared, the crimson light deepening until it seemed to pulse with a heartbeat of its own. "Strength is clawing your way out of the gutter. It's cutting the throat of the bastard who'd take what's yours. It's building something from nothing, with your own blood."

He struck again.

This time his dagger slipped through the Guard's guard, grazing his armor just beneath the arm. The venom hissed, eating into the enchanted plate.

The Guard grunted, shifting back a step. Frost gathered along his halberd, thickening into jagged spikes.

"You fight for nothing but yourself," the Guard said, his tone still calm, even as blood seeped beneath his armor. "That is why you will die here."

Venom bared his teeth, eyes wild. "I fight for the only thing that matters. Survival. That makes me eternal."

The Guard charged, halberd aimed to split him in two. Venom ducked beneath the strike, sliding across blood-slick stone, then surged up beneath the Guard's guard.

His dagger plunged once, twice, three times into the man's side.

The Guard roared, slamming the butt of his weapon into Venom's ribs. Bone cracked. Venom staggered, spitting blood — but his aura drank it back in, knitting flesh as fast as it tore.

The Guard's frost aura surged, a storm of shards swirling outward, cutting into Venom's skin. For a heartbeat, it looked as though the storm would swallow him whole.

Then the crimson haze erupted.

Venom's Crimson Fang Rush tore through the blizzard. He became a streak of red, his dagger flashing like a fang in the night. The storm parted — and the Guard's halberd split in two.

Venom stood behind him, breathing hard, dagger dripping blackened blood.

The First Guard turned slowly, his eyes wide, disbelief etched across his face. Frost still clung to his armor, but the venom seared through, eating the enchantments alive.

He tried to lift his halberd's broken shaft, but his arms no longer obeyed. The poison had found his veins.

"You and your prince…" he rasped, falling to one knee. "will… bring ruin."

Venom crouched in front of him, his cruel eyes gleaming. "Ruin's already here. You were just too blind to see it."

The Guard's head bowed. His breath left him in a plume of frost — and did not return.

Venom rose slowly, rolling his shoulders, his body still aching from the strikes he had taken. His aura licked along his skin, stitching the last of the wounds shut.

He looked down at the fallen Guard, then out across the battlefield. His men still fought, still bled, but the courtyard was theirs.

For a moment, his cruel grin faded. His eyes softened, just a fraction.

He remembered the alleys of Ranevia. The years of hunger, of being hunted by stronger gangs. The nights he had killed not out of hate, but because he would not see another dawn otherwise.

The First Guard had been a wall, a loyal man who gave everything to a king that would never bleed for him. Venom knew that path. He had almost walked it, long ago, before he learned better.

"Loyalty," he muttered, spitting blood to the stones. "is earned by strength alone."

Then he turned, scar gleaming in the torchlight once more. His grin returned.

"Another corpse for the pile," he said, and strode back into the fray.