Does rewriting a work counts as new? Ignore the synopsis, I'm still working on it, and just read the first two chapters, please~
Ever since the incident when he was eight years old, Lucifer Nightwalker von Nightmare lost his ability to control the energy at his core and was forcibly sealed with an incomplete 'Twenty Seals'. Because it was incomplete, the backlash robbed him of his talents and abilities. One of the backlash...
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As usual, before we continue, keep in mind that I'm by far the worst writer around here, so take any of my suggestions with distrust.
You told me it was not time yet, Cione. Did you lie to me?
This comes as inner thoughts of the character. I recommend marking them something like:
Ten seconds. No more. Then it vanished into nothing, as though it had never existed at all.
I understood far too well. Far earlier than I was meant to.
You told me it was not time yet, Cione. Did you lie to me?
So, Your Grace—” Herman began carefully, “do you mind explaining why you woke us at three in the morning to fly to the Silesia Republic?”
The cup halted halfway to my lips. Slowly, I lowered it again and looked around. Their postures were straight. Their eyes fixed forward. Their silence— thicker than before.
The empty space between sentences comes as unneeded, unless you plan to place an image there.
“Well, he’s a pilot. We’re not,” Herman said, forcing a casual shrug. “The rest of us aren’t built for that kind of energy to work two four slash seven.”
Sorry, but the incoming betrayal was coming far too obviously. The MC had spotted that something was off and still drank the cup. Did he have a death wish? Either you should write the scene for the MC to come off as more oblivious, or you should not make him drink it. I mean:
My eyes narrowed. “Hmph. Playing dumb, are we?” I let the edge return to my voice, cold and deliberate. “What’s going on? You’re never this nervous in an emergency.”
His silence stretched a beat too long. Then—
“…Because you’ve never been this worried,” Herman murmured, the words slipping out low. His eyes didn’t quite meet mine, but the unease in them was there, sharp as a blade hidden in cloth.
You're drumming "Betrayer! Betrayer!" to a reader. If I, who never met these characters, could guess that Herman was a traitor, it should be obvious to the MC.
It’s pointless, you fakes— I’ve already seen through your tricks.
Still think that thoughts should be marked with another style.
Steel flashed— a low slash angling for my ribs. I caught his wrist mid-swing; tendons jumped under my grip, then crack—bone slipped and split. His eyes flared wide, breath hitching for a cry that never came. My fist drove into his gut; he folded, weight collapsing into my twist. One wrench—snap— and his neck gave beneath my hands.
Cool way to hint at the superhuman nature of the MC.
“…I’m sorry, but you are an obstacle.” Her blade whispered free from her boot. She advanced in measured steps, nothing wasted. No smirk. No tremor. Her eyes met mine—steady, weighted—like someone stepping into a storm she knew she could not survive.
Why boot? She's a knight, why conceal a weapon?
No, the part about "nothing wasted" doesn't work, because you already establish her:
“You shouldn’t have skipped the procedures, O shadow of the wise prince,” Fake Luna said, her voice cutting through the cabin—low, even, unshaken.
She gloated, already wasting potential surprise.
“You shouldn’t have skipped the procedures, O shadow of the wise prince,” Fake Luna said, her voice cutting through the cabin—low, even, unshaken.
O shadow of the wise prince.
I assume it refers to the fact that he is the original, while the clone is not, but she is not aware of it. Anyway, I don't get why you repeated it twice, or who even thinks it at the moment.
The rest recoiled in shock, but Herman was already moving. He sank low, sweeping his knife in a ruthless arc across their ankles. Tendons parted; balance failed. They collapsed forward, forced into knees as if the floor itself demanded it.
That part is on me, but, IMO, you should've given us some descriptions of how they looked. Now I understand that none of the knights had any armor on, but since they were, well, knights, I assumed that they had heavy plates. Or mails. Or power armor.
“You monster,” he whispered with a strange gentleness. “I even sacrificed my comrades—just to make you believe. Just to make you lower your guard.”
Even though I saw it coming (since there was no way for him to be here without the killers' noticing), it was a very cool twist.
Sorry about doing only one chapter; I don't have time for two.
