The Crest of Ruin

After chapter 8-

1. Ceyla Drell a Barrier Mage from our vassal House Drell

Lucien's smile vanished the moment his eyes met hers.

black braided hair, beautiful grey eyes, and a blank expression that was just a mask. A damn mask.

"Oh freaking gods, she's here again."

She stood in the lineup like a proper lady, but Lucien knew better, cus ofcourse she has been the nightmare of his previous life.

"She may look like a serene priestess, but deep down she's a battlefield nuke with a one-man obsession campaign. Spoiler: I'm the target."

He rubbed his temples.

"In every memory of my life—she. was. THERE. Like some glitch in reality. You think you're alone in the library? She's already behind the bookshelf. Training alone at dawn? Guess who 'couldn't sleep and wandered here by chance.'"No matter where I went—library, dueling yard, even the stables—this girl would just appear like a cursed spirit with shiny eyes and a notebook titled "Reasons Why Lucien is My Fate."

Once I yawned. YAWNED. And she whispered, "Your fatigue is so regal, young master."

I nearly choked on air.

But nothing—NOTHING—compares to her father. That ancient relic, rat headed bastard, Lord Ruvan Drell. Balding, bitter, and built like a walking accusation.

During a banquet in my past life, I was just vibing—eating roasted duck and minding my damn business—when his daughter slithered next to me and said, "Your jawline could cut my heart open."

Before I could fake a seizure to escape, Lord Ruvan stomped over, veins pulsing like enchanted vines.

"YOU!" he barked, eyes blazing. "What spell have you cast on my precious Ceyla?! You've defiled her innocence!"

Brother, I was doing my damn business.

I hadn't even said three words to her that day. Meanwhile, she was drawing our couple name in ketchup.

I calmly said, "Sir, I think your daughter needs a barrier spell for herself—mental stability version."

He responded, I kid you not: "Don't gaslight her feelings, you temptress-faced menace."

Temptress. Faced. Menace.

At that point, even the roast duck was uncomfortable.

Since then, I've been living in fear. You think assassins scare me? No. It's Ceyla with a diary. Ceyla giggling in the hallway. Ceyla breathing in my general direction.

She once tried to gift me a mana-infused pillow embroidered with "Lucien Drell." I had to pretend to be allergic to fabric for a week.

Every time I see her eyes sparkle, a piece of my soul commits treason and tries to leave my body.

If this girl ever becomes a Saint, I swear the gods owe me a refund on karma.

Even Aria got tired of her once. Threw a shoe at her and said, "Back off, from my brother." Ceyla caught it, smiled, and whispered, "Even his sister leaves behind relics of his presence."

We had to ban her from the garden for a week.

Lucien mentally groaned.

"My father said she had potential. 'A talented barrier mage, Lucien. Be nice.' Be nice? I was five when she tried to barrier lock me in the garden for three hours so we could 'talk.' I barely escaped with my soul."

Her voice echoed in his head again.

"Lucien, the way your mana threads shimmer in sunlight… it's divine."

"Lucien, if I were a spellbook, I'd want you to open me first."

"Lucien, I saw a dream where you ruled the empire and I was your right hand—and wife—and shadow."

"That's not a dream, that's a psychological horror movie."

He shivered.

"You don't understand. She doesn't walk—she glides. And always at weird angles. One time I swore she came out of the wall and telling my about how divine my face is ha...ha."

And the laugh.

"That weird little 'hehehe' she makes when she thinks I can't hear. It's not a laugh. It's a summoning ritual. I'm convinced she's building a secret altar with my hair strands."

Still, Lucien crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Well apart from her personality, she's strong. Her barriers are clean, fast, and brutal. If she wasn't so unhinged, she'd actually be one of the top contenders here."

A pause.

"...No. That's worse. A psycho with power is the real nightmare."

2. Talven Rourke well...he got another name called as The Inferno Junkie

Well talking about his looks he is not half bad his hair Tousled copper-red, always singed at the edges. No matter how many times they trim it, it looks like he walked out of a battlefield.

Eyes: Ember-gold with a faint, pulsing glow — like a lit furnace that never cools.

Lean but corded with muscle. Scars along his arms, half from training, half from blowing himself up.

He is from family The Rourkes are one of the oldest vassal families under Velentis — known for raising close-combat mages with a berserker edge. They believe true power is forged through pain, blood, and fire.

Magic: Specializes in Flame Infusion — coating his body and weapons with burning mana, causing every punch to explode on contact. Known to channel combustion magic through his veins, literally.

Personality: Hot-blooded, reckless, loyal.

Doesn't fear death — only boredom.

"Talven Rourke… walking wildfire with a death wish."

"He once said — and I quote — 'Pain just means the fire's working.' After putting himself into elemental training room which at absolute high temp and he lived there for 1 month his skin was so burnt, that preist were called....In other word he is training maniac.

"The Rourkes raise their kids like war dogs. No elegance, no etiquette — just throw them into lava and hope they come out spell-enhanced."

"But Talven? He thrives on it."

"In my past life, he was chaos incarnate. Would charge into monster nests alone just to 'see how strong they smelled.'"

"He's not an idiot though. That's the worst part. He chooses to be reckless. Because deep down, he thinks fire is the only honest thing in this world."

"No politics. No lies. Just burn, or be burned."

"...Tch. Idiot or not, if he ever truly hones that power, he'll be a nightmare for anyone standing in his way."

"I'll admit one thing though. Of all the vassal brats, Talven's the only one who'd die for the duchy without hesitation. That fire? It's more loyal than most nobles I've met."

"Still doesn't mean I am gonna leave him. This time it gonna be mine reign'

"Let him scream his fireball chants all he wants — I'm going to drown him in precision."

📸 Ceyla Drell (Click to View): 

https://i.postimg.cc/QNc02wqL/Ceyla-Drell.png

📸 Talven Rourke (Click to View): 

https://i.postimg.cc/rFZT5ptv/Young-Fire-Mage-in-Medieval-Courtyard.png