Lucian stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection.
His jaw was tight, his eyes sharp—but beneath it all, something was off.
He inhaled slowly. This wasn't going to happen.
He wouldn't let Envy's words shake him. He had a goal. His revenge. His grandfather. The strength he was gathering was for a purpose.
Nothing had changed.
He clenched his fists. Nothing had changed.
---
By noon, he had already broken that promise.
Elara watched, arms crossed, as Lucian's blade carved through a low-level bandit, his movements precise, almost effortless.
The fight had been over long before the first strike landed.
Lucian flicked the blood off his katana, but the sensation lingered. The rush of a clean victory. The instinctive pull toward the power beneath his blade.
The thought whispered through his mind before he could stop it.
Could I take it?
Elara sighed dramatically. "You know, you're starting to look way too comfortable in fights like these."
Lucian exhaled. "It's efficient."
Elara smirked. "Is that what you're calling it now?"
Lucian ignored her. This was necessary. He wasn't doing this for fun. He wasn't.
Elara nudged his shoulder. "Lucky for you, we've got a real job now."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Another errand?"
She grinned. "Nope. This time, we've got a real quest. Something worth your time."
Lucian exhaled, pushing his thoughts aside.
A distraction. Good.
Anything to remind himself that he was still in control.