The moment Lucien stepped into the runic chamber, his eyes snapped to the center of the room.
There, resting atop an ancient pedestal carved with forgotten glyphs, floated a shimmering gem, pulsating softly with a rhythm that seemed to echo the heartbeat of the world itself.
A Trait Stone.
Lucien didn't need to guess. He knew.
This was it—one of the foundation-level cheats that gave Ignis his monstrous head start in the original story. The very item that had tilted the scales so heavily in the protagonist's favor.
Now, standing alone in this silent chamber, no enemies, no last-minute curses, no dramatic boss battles, Lucien casually sauntered forward.
No desperate struggle.
No bleeding hands clawing against time.
Just clean execution.
He reached out, his fingers brushing the stone's surface.
A surge of energy licked at his skin, wild and volatile, but Lucien's aura swallowed it whole without flinching.
The gem shrank, absorbed into his storage space with a faint ping.
Done. Simple.
He gave the pedestal a dismissive glance before sweeping the rest of the room.
If it looked remotely useful, it vanished into his storage ring.
Ancient scrolls sealed in runic stasis? Yoink.
Mystic herbs preserved for what must've been millennia? Pocketed.
Even a rusted, jagged sword radiating faint, lingering divine energy?
"Well, ugly or not, you're coming with me too," Lucien muttered, stuffing it inside with barely a second glance.
Loot secured.
Target achieved.
Time to get the hell out.
His gaze snapped to the far end of the chamber where a teleportation circle buzzed weakly—barely holding itself together.
Faint, flickering, on its last legs.
Lucien broke into a sprint.
In the novel's timeline, Ignis had been delayed.
Bhulla's majestic striptease move had cost him precious minutes.
By the time Ignis stumbled out of Bhulla's arena, the teleportation portal had fizzled out, leaving him stranded.
Thrown into some godforsaken wilderness on the opposite side of the continent.
An entire volume of the story—Ignis Homecoming Volume One—had been dedicated to his miserable trek back to civilization.
Near-death battles, philosophical soul-searching, rescuing damsels, accidental pet adoption—the works.
Lucien snorted as he ran.
"Yeah, no thanks," he muttered under his breath.
He had better things to do than reenact a survival reality show.
---
The circle pulsed desperately as he dove into it.
FLASH.
The world spun, gravity flipped, and the sensation of falling sideways clawed at his gut.
Then—
THUMP.
Lucien stumbled back into reality, landing squarely inside the massive ear cavity of the fourth mountain face.
Back.
Alive.
Fully clothed.
Lucien grinned, breathing deeply.
No time to savor the victory, though.
He knew what came next.
Without hesitation, he broke into a sprint, legs pumping furiously as he made for the distant treeline—five full miles out, minimum.
He didn't even spare a glance back at the cavernous mouth he had just exited.
Not yet.
First, survival.
It started with a tremble.
The air grew heavy, vibrating with a low, gut-churning hum.
The earth beneath his boots shuddered, hairline fractures snaking out across the ground like spiderwebs.
Lucien finally skidded to a stop, turning to watch.
The Panchmukhi Mountains—the legendary Five Faces—were cracking.
The carved features twisted, as if caught mid-scream, before massive chunks of stone peeled away, crumbling into the void.
The very fabric of space around them began to warp.
Reality itself hiccupped.
And then—
BOOM.
A thunderclap split the sky, and the five mountains vanished.
Not exploded.
Not collapsed.
Vanished.
Gone.
All that remained was a scarred patch of sky and earth—a gaping hole where existence itself had been punched out.
Lucien whistled low, shading his eyes with one hand.
"Now that's what I call logging out of the zone."
---
Later that evening, under the blood-red glow of a setting sun, Lucien trudged through the lower districts of Arkanveil.
If the upper city was polished marble, soaring towers, and crystal fountains, the lower city was… less.
Dust-choked streets.
Cracked stone.
Worn-down alleys that stank of sweat, desperation, and broken dreams.
Lucien moved like a shadow, hood pulled low, slipping past hollow-eyed beggars and merchants hawking wilted goods.
He wasn't here to play hero.
He wasn't here to judge.
He was here because fate, destiny, or maybe just the dumb luck that followed absurdly powerful individuals like him around like a lost puppy, had whispered: Look here.
Down one narrow alley, where the setting sun barely reached, he saw him.
A boy, maybe his own age—curled up against a crumbling wall, nothing but bruises, blood, and defiance wrapped in a threadbare rag of humanity.
He was so thin it hurt to look at him.
Knees drawn up to his chest.
Arms wrapped tight around himself like a makeshift armor against a world that didn't care if he lived or died.
Lucien's steps slowed.
Instinct urged him to keep moving.
But curiosity—and a tiny flicker of something older, colder, more calculating—made him stop.
He activated Eye of Data casually, almost lazily.
And immediately froze.
> [Name: Elric]
[Age: 14]
[Rank: Unranked]
[Trait: Shadow and Me One]
[Grade: F (Evolvable to SSS+)]
[Effect: Merges user's shadow into their body, doubling physical strength temporarily]
Lucien blinked.
Then again.
Then once more for good measure.
"…You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath, feeling reality tilt sideways just a bit.
An SSS+ potential seedling.
Sitting here.
Rotting in the dirt.
Fate, you ridiculous drama queen, Lucien thought dryly. First you hand me the Eye of Data, now this?
He studied the boy carefully.
Bruised. Starving. But not broken.
The fire still burned behind those half-lidded, exhausted eyes.
The boy wasn't dead yet.
And that was enough.
Lucien's mouth curled into a slow, predatory smile.
Looks like fate handed him more than just opportunities this time.
It handed him family.
Or, at the very least… a weapon.
And Lucien Arkanveil never let a good weapon go to waste.