Chapter 354: What he was doing
Lucavion continued his unhurried stroll through the lively streets of Stormhaven, Vitaliara perched on his shoulder like a regal warden. The flickering lantern light danced across the cobblestones, casting shadows that seemed to play a silent game of tag.
"We've come far tonight," Lucavion remarked, his voice soft as he took in the vibrant city around him.
[And we still have further to go,] Vitaliara replied, her glowing eyes sweeping over the bustling streets. [But first, rest. I can feel your weariness, Lucavion.]
Indeed, just as Vitaliara had stated, Lucavion had been working non-stop in the last 5 months of traveling time. After all, traveling from west to east was not something that could happen in a short amount of time.
Especially without having the machinery or other products that made traveling convenient. Even though Aether was really one of the finest mounts and she was quite strong and fast, even she had limits.
And Lucavion in fact was not someone to waste any opportunity to get stronger.
He gave a slight nod, acknowledging her concern. "True enough. Let's find an inn."
Lucavion continued his measured stride through the streets, his gaze distant but sharp, his thoughts delving into the countless days and nights he'd spent on this journey. The flickering lanterns cast fleeting shadows over his figure, his silhouette blending with the bustling vibrancy of Stormhaven.
[You've driven yourself relentlessly these past months,] Vitaliara noted, her voice calm but tinged with concern. Her glowing eyes flitted over his features, catching the faint lines of weariness he carried with his usual poise. [Even Aether needed her moments of respite. But you? You've barely paused, Lucavion.]
"It's necessary," he replied, his voice low but resolute. "The path between Westward Range and the Eastern Realms isn't a leisurely stroll, and there's little use in letting opportunities go to waste."
Indeed, the journey had been grueling. The roads that connected the sprawling cities were anything but safe, infested with monsters that turned the wilderness into a treacherous expanse. These creatures, the bane of common travelers and weaker adventurers had been a constant source of opportunity for Lucavion.
He had deliberately chosen less-traveled paths, navigating through valleys and over ridges where danger was almost guaranteed. For the average person—or even a lesser Awakened—it would have been madness. But for Lucavion, it was a calculated investment.
Every encounter had been a test of strength, each monster a stepping stone in his relentless pursuit of growth. The [Flame of Equinox], his core that harmonized the opposing forces of life and death, had grown stronger with each battle. Yet, frustratingly, he remained just shy of a breakthrough to the coveted 4-star level. The monsters he faced, even at their peaks, lacked the potency required to fuel that next step.
Still, the hunt had not been fruitless. Where his Flame of Equinox faltered, his [Devourer of Stars] core thrived. The starlight mana within him had grown sharper, more polished, and more aligned with his unique physique. As he fought and refined, his cultivation advanced rapidly.
'It's ironic,' he mused, a faint smile curving his lips. 'A technique meant to honor my master, yet it has started becoming something entirely my own.'
The [Devourer of Stars] was no longer a rigid method; it had evolved under his hand, tailored to his unique energy pathways and physical constitution. He drew power from the stars themselves, their light transmuted into mana that resonated with the core of his being. Each refinement made the technique more his, shaping it into a tool perfectly suited for him.
[You're on the verge,] Vitaliara said, interrupting his thoughts. Her tail swayed gently, her tone thoughtful. [I can feel it. Your starlight mana—it's different now, brighter, more focused. You've pushed it to a point where it's almost ready to bloom into something greater.]
Lucavion nodded faintly. "Almost isn't enough. Not yet. But soon."
[And the Flame of Equinox?] she pressed, her voice quieter now. [You've come so far, but you've also neglected rest. If you don't find balance, even the strongest flames can burn out.]
His smirk deepened, though there was no mockery in it—only a quiet acceptance. "Balance is the whole essence of that flame, Vitaliara. I'm well aware. But this stagnation won't last. The right challenge is out there, waiting."
And indeed.
After all, he came to his city to achieve two things.
One to save a certain daughter.
And second, to achieve his breakthrough.
*******
The two made their way to the heart of the city, where the finest accommodations were clustered. It didn't take long to locate a well-lit establishment with a polished sign swaying gently in the night breeze: The Golden Ember. Its inviting glow promised comfort and reprieve.
Stepping inside, Lucavion paused, his sharp gaze scanning the room. The spacious interior was bustling with activity, a hum of conversation rising above the clink of glasses and the soft strumming of a lute in the corner. What caught his attention, however, were the auras.
Strong ones.
Awakened.
Lucavion's dark eyes swept the room, lingering on the flickering intensity of Awakened auras scattered throughout. Each pulse of power was a subtle beacon, revealing the diverse calibers of those gathered in The Golden Ember's common hall. His smirk deepened, though his demeanor remained composed.
"Well, well," he murmured, stepping further into the room, his boots clicking softly against the polished wooden floor. "It seems Stormhaven has become a convergence point."
[These are no ordinary travelers,] Vitaliara observed, her voice low but edged with interest. Her glowing gaze flitted from one Awakened to the next, noting the diversity of energy signatures. [Some are strong enough to rival you. And look there—] she nodded toward a table in the corner, where a figure sat with an enormous shadowy wolf curled at their feet. [Even familiars are present.]
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, acknowledging her observation. "The duke's expedition must have garnered more attention than I anticipated. Such a gathering of power is rarely a coincidence."
[Or an entirely safe one,] Vitaliara added. Her tail flicked lightly as she perched higher on his shoulder. [Not everyone gathered here will be an ally. Or even neutral.]
"True enough," Lucavion said, his tone unhurried. "But the more, the merrier. Wouldn't you agree?"
[Vigilance is better,] she countered, her voice sharp with caution. [Not everyone here has good karma. And I doubt their interests will align with ours.]
Lucavion chuckled softly, the sound a blend of amusement and calculation. "Karma is a luxury we can overlook for now. As long as they're useful, their sins don't concern me. That being said, I'll take note of the most intriguing among them."
[You'd better,] Vitaliara said, her tone tinged with quiet resignation. [Human nature rarely changes.]
He didn't argue. Instead, he made his way to the counter, securing a room with his usual effortless charm. The innkeeper—a stout woman with shrewd eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor—gave him the key but not without a brief, appraising glance at Vitaliara.
"It's rare to see such a creature in these parts," she remarked casually, though her tone carried a subtle edge.
Lucavion's smirk softened into something polite yet distant. "A rarity, perhaps. But one that prefers her privacy."
The woman gave a curt nod, handing over the key without further comment.
Ascending the staircase, Lucavion's thoughts remained on the room below. Each aura he'd sensed was a piece in the larger puzzle he'd come here to solve. The daughter he sought to save and his own imminent breakthrough—they were tied to this city's convergence of power, and he would navigate its web with precision.
Reaching the room, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was modest but well-appointed, with sturdy furniture and a large window that overlooked the lively streets below. Setting his pack down, he glanced at Vitaliara, who had leaped gracefully onto the windowsill.
And then he mumbled while posing to take his clothes out.
Lucavion began unbuckling his coat with deliberate slowness, his smirk deepening as he caught Vitaliara's sharp gaze from the windowsill. "Shouldn't I get some privacy?" he asked, his tone dripping with playful mischief. "Or would you rather stay here, you peeping cat?"
[Vitality incarnate does not 'peep,'] Vitaliara shot back, her tail flicking sharply. [And I am not a cat!]
Lucavion chuckled, neatly folding his coat before moving to unbutton his shirt. "You may not be a peeping cat, but you're certainly a peeping tom."
Her glowing eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening with indignation. [Peeping tom? What is that supposed to mean?]
"Nothing," he replied smoothly, though the glint in his eye said otherwise.
[Why do I feel offended?] she demanded, her tail curling tighter around her paws as she stared him down.
"Must be your imagination," he said with a shrug, his voice laced with mock innocence. "I wouldn't dream of offending you, Vitaliara."
Her glow brightened slightly, signaling her simmering irritation. [For someone so smart, you're remarkably annoying sometimes.]
"That's what makes me charming," he quipped, neatly setting his shirt aside before pulling a fresh tunic from his pack. "But since you're so insistent, I'll forgive your trespasses this time."
[Vitaliara does not trespass,] she retorted, lifting her chin as if her very pride were at stake. [And certainly not for someone as insufferable as you.]
Lucavion's laughter was low and warm as he tugged the tunic over his head. "You wound me, truly. But I suppose I'll survive."
[Survival is the least of your concerns,] she muttered, turning her gaze to the streets below as if dismissing him entirely. But the faint flick of her tail betrayed her lingering irritation—and maybe, just maybe, a touch of amusement.
Lucavion leaned against the edge of the bed, watching her with a lazy grin. "You're adorable when you're flustered, Vitaliara."
[I am never flustered,] she snapped, her glow flaring indignantly. [And certainly not by you.]
"Of course not," he replied, his grin widening. "Just as I'm not insufferable."
Her silence spoke volumes, but when she finally turned back to him, her eyes gleamed with a spark of begrudging humor. [One of these days, Lucavion, your wit will get you into trouble.]
"It usually does," he agreed with a smirk.
"But isn't that half the fun?"
She didn't have anything to say about that.
Chapter 355: You are allowed
Inside the Duke's mansion, a room was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic crash of waves against the distant shore.
Aeliana sat by her bed, her slender form draped in her usual heavy robe. She leaned back against the cushioned headboard, her breathing even as she stared blankly at the ceiling.
Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in her chest, like a claw tearing through her lungs. Her eyes widened as she clutched at her throat, gasping for air. Before she could cry out, a wet, metallic taste filled her mouth.
"Burghk-!"
A violent cough wracked her body, and when she pulled her hand away, it was stained crimson.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at the blood on her palm, her vision blurring. Panic seized her as she doubled over, trembling.
The door burst open, and her maid, Liana, rushed in, her face pale with worry. "My lady!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees at Aeliana's side. Without hesitation, she reached for the small vial of medicine kept on the bedside table.
"Here," the maid said urgently, uncorking the vial and pressing it into Aeliana's shaking hands. "Drink this—it will help."
Aeliana's fingers fumbled with the vial as she tried to steady herself. The maid gently guided her hands, helping her tilt the vial to her lips. The thick, bitter liquid burned as it slid down her throat, but the effect was immediate. Her coughing subsided, though her chest still ached, and her breaths came in uneven gasps.
As the medicine took hold, Aeliana's strength waned, and she slumped forward, her balance faltering. The maid instinctively reached out to steady her, her hands warm and firm against Aeliana's trembling frame.
But as she did that, she made a mistake. While trying to help her, she slightly moved her veil…
And to that, the maid's eyes widened as her gaze fell on Aeliana's exposed skin for a split second. The blackened lines and cracked pores that marred her pale skin were stark and jarring. Despite her attempts to hide it, the illness's cruel marks were impossible to miss.
It was really disgusting, completely against a person's eyes and sense of art.
Her expression betrayed her shock, her lips parting slightly as her eyes flicked between Aeliana's hands and the veil that barely concealed her torment.
And that was something that Aeliana had always been familiar with.
The same gaze that the maid had at that time, was the same gaze that everyone had thrown at her when she had first gotten her illness.
To that Aeliana's reaction was swift and sharp.
"Don't touch me!" she hissed, slapping the maid's hands away with what little strength she had left. Her voice was laced with anger, but beneath it was a raw vulnerability that sent the maid recoiling.
Aeliana's trembling hands reached for the veil she had discarded earlier, pulling it over her face in one swift motion. Her fingers tugged the fabric into place, ensuring every inch of her face was concealed. She turned away from the maid, her breathing still labored, but her movements were frantic and defensive.
Her expression betrayed her shock, her lips parting slightly as her eyes flicked between Aeliana's hands and the veil that barely concealed her torment.
"Out!" Aeliana snapped, her voice sharp and trembling. "Get out! Now!"
"My lady—" the maid began, her voice faltering as she reached out again.
"Leave!" Aeliana's shout rang through the room, raw and desperate. She turned her face further away, her hands clenching into fists against her lap. "I don't need your pity. Just go!"
The maid hesitated for a moment, her expression filled with both guilt and helplessness. Finally, she lowered her gaze and stood, stepping back toward the door.
"As you wish, my lady," she murmured softly before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.
As the silence returned, Aeliana slumped against the bed, her body trembling from exhaustion and the aftermath of her outburst. She pulled her veil tighter around her face, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.
As the door clicked shut and the maid's hesitant footsteps faded down the hall, silence reclaimed the room. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken emotions and the lingering taste of bitter medicine. Aeliana's trembling hands moved with practiced urgency, pulling the veil tighter around her face, tucking it securely to hide every inch of exposed skin.
Her fingers, still shaking, adjusted her sleeves and the hem of her robe, ensuring not a sliver of her discolored, cracked skin was visible. Each motion was precise, almost mechanical, born from years of necessity. But with every adjustment, her chest tightened, a deep, seething hatred simmering within her.
Not for the maid. Not for her illness.
For the veil. For the layers of fabric that imprisoned her.
Her fists clenched against the thick fabric of her robes as she turned and slumped onto the bed. The ornate headboard loomed above her like a monument to everything she despised. She pulled her knees to her chest, curling into herself, her face buried against her legs.
The veil brushed against her skin, a constant reminder of its presence, suffocating and oppressive. She despised it with every fiber of her being, yet she couldn't bear to remove it. Not after what she'd seen on the maid's face—that flicker of revulsion, no matter how quickly the girl had tried to hide it.
'They always look at me like that,' she thought bitterly, her mind racing back to memories she had tried to bury. The first time she had stepped out of her room after the marks began to spread, the way the servants averted their eyes, the whispered murmurs she wasn't meant to hear.
'Disgusting.'
'How tragic.'
'She's not even human anymore.'
Her arms tightened around her knees as if she could make herself smaller as if she could disappear entirely. She didn't cry. There were no tears left for this, no energy to mourn a life that had long since slipped away. She simply stayed like that, curled into a fragile ball, her breathing shallow and uneven.
The minutes stretched on, the room enveloped in a heavy silence broken only by the faint crash of waves in the distance. Aeliana didn't move. She didn't need to. This was familiar—too familiar.
It was how she had always coped. No tears, no screams, just silence and stillness.
If she stayed like this long enough, maybe the ache in her chest would fade. Maybe the suffocating weight of the veil would become bearable again.
Maybe.
KNOCK!
But it appeared that even that little time was just too much for her.
The knock on the door echoed through the suffocating silence of the room, pulling Aeliana from the fog of her thoughts. Her body tensed as a familiar voice followed the knock, deep and authoritative yet with a measured gentleness.
"Aeliana."
She recognized it instantly—her father. The Duke.
Her breath hitched as she scrambled to pull the blanket over herself, covering her body entirely. The thought of him seeing her like this, vulnerable and exposed, filled her with a sharp, aching dread. Once she was sufficiently hidden beneath the thick fabric, her voice, though strained, cut through the air.
"Enter."
The door creaked open, and the Duke stepped inside, his presence commanding as always. He paused in the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on her huddled figure on the bed. His gaze lingered for a moment, and though his expression was unreadable, there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.
"You had one of your attacks again, didn't you?" he asked, his voice steady but edged with quiet worry.
Aeliana's lips pressed into a thin line, her body curling further beneath the blanket. "What does it matter?" she snapped, her tone sharp and unwelcoming. "You've seen it enough times. It's nothing new."
The Duke exhaled a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly as he crossed the room. He stopped a few paces from the bed, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her fragile frame. "It matters because you matter," he said, his tone softening slightly. "Even when you refuse to believe it."
Aeliana didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the corner of the blanket she clutched tightly in her hands. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths as her father's words hung in the air.
The Duke straightened, his demeanor shifting back to one of authority. "I came to inform you that the vantage point you requested has been arranged. Everything is ready."
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a faint spark of surprise breaking through her guarded expression. "Already?" she asked, her voice low and skeptical.
"Yes," he replied, nodding. "You'll have Madeline at your side, as well as a contingent of knights to ensure your safety. The location is secure, and I've made certain it will provide the view you desired."
Aeliana's fingers tightened around the blanket, pulling it higher as if to shield herself from his gaze. "I don't need her," she said curtly. "Or the knights."
"You do," the Duke countered firmly. "And you will have them. This isn't negotiable."
Her lips curled into a faint scowl, but she didn't argue further. There was no point—his decisions, once made, were immutable.
"I've also had cloaks and veils prepared," he added, gesturing briefly toward a neatly folded bundle in the corner of the room. "They will ensure you're properly covered and shielded from the elements. And from prying eyes."
The mention of the veils made her stomach twist, a bitter taste rising in her throat. Still, she nodded reluctantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."
The Duke's gaze lingered on her, his sharp features etched with a mix of authority and concern. He crossed his arms, his imposing figure casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.
"The recruitment for the expedition will be finalized by tomorrow," he stated firmly. "After that, we move. Make sure you are in good condition by then."
Aeliana's fingers clenched tighter around the blanket, her knuckles whitening as she straightened slightly. Her voice, though quiet, carried an edge of determination. "I will not miss it."
The Duke's brow furrowed slightly at her words, his expression unreadable. A pause hung heavy between them, the silence broken only by the faint crash of waves outside the window.
"...Is that so?" he finally said, his voice calm but laden with something inscrutable.
Aeliana held his gaze for a moment, her heart thudding in her chest. The tension in the air was palpable, her father's words carrying a weight she couldn't entirely decipher.
"Yes," she replied, her tone steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I'll be ready."
The Duke exhaled, his broad shoulders relaxing just slightly as he regarded her. "See that you are," he said, his voice softer now. "This is not a place for hesitation or frailty. If you cannot manage yourself, there will be no second chances."
Aeliana's jaw tightened, her teeth clenching behind her veil. "I understand."
Chapter 356: Recruitment
The streets of Stormhaven were alive with the energy of the bustling city, even in the late evening. The salty tang of the sea mixed with the scents of grilled fish and spices from nearby food stalls. Lanterns hung from wrought iron posts, their flickering light casting long shadows on the cobblestones. Merchants packed up their stalls, sailors swapped tales of their voyages, and the occasional drunkard wobbled through the streets, adding to the symphony of city life.
Elara walked quietly beside Cedric, her thoughts lingering on their destination. The recruitment station for the Duke's expedition loomed in her mind like a beacon—and a test. She was supposed to have reported there yesterday, but circumstances had conspired against her.
She glanced at Cedric, his expression stoic and watchful as always. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude, though she kept her voice steady. "I still can't believe that stew was poisoned."
Cedric's lips twitched into a small, wry smile. "It wasn't poisoned, Lady Elara. It was just bad meat. Likely left out in the sun for too long."
Elara sighed, a hand brushing over her stomach instinctively. "It certainly felt like poison. I've never been so sick in my life. If not for you…" Her voice trailed off, but Cedric's response was immediate.
"It's my duty," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for debate. "You shouldn't concern yourself with what's already passed. You're well now, and that's what matters."
"Well enough to walk all over Stormhaven," she muttered under her breath, earning a chuckle from Cedric.
"Better to be cautious, Lady Elara. You don't want to fall ill again before the expedition begins."
She nodded, though her thoughts wandered back to the ordeal. She had been so excited to arrive in Stormhaven, ready to begin her final trial, only to be laid low by an unfortunate meal. It had been embarrassing, to say the least. If not for Cedric's quick thinking and steady presence, she doubted she would have recovered so quickly.
Her attention returned to the present as they turned a corner, the sounds of the recruitment station reaching her ears before the building came into view. The unmistakable clang of weapons and the rumble of raised voices drifted through the air.
Ahead, the recruitment station was a large stone structure with banners bearing the crest of the Thaddeus Duchy—a sea serpent coiled around a trident. The open courtyard in front of the building was crowded with adventurers, mercenaries, and soldiers, all vying for attention. Torches burned brightly along the perimeter, casting a warm glow over the scene.
Cedric slowed his pace, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "It seems we're not the only ones interested in this expedition," he remarked.
Elara pulled her hood tighter around her face, her nerves stirring once more. "Do you think we're too late? That they've already filled the positions?"
"I doubt it," Cedric replied, his tone steady. "The Duke would have closed the recruitment. Besides…" His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. "We're more than qualified. They'll see that."
Elara nodded, though the knot in her stomach tightened. This was it—the first step of her trial. She took a deep breath, pushing aside the lingering fatigue from her recent illness.
As they approached the gates of the station, a guard in polished armor stepped forward, his expression firm but professional. "State your names and purpose," he barked, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
Elara took a steadying breath and stepped forward, pulling a small, weathered card from her pocket. She held it out to the guard, who squinted at the adventurer ID under the flickering torchlight. The card simply read Elara and bore her rank: D-Rank. The edges of the card were slightly frayed, evidence of frequent use.
Cedric stepped forward as well, presenting an identical card with the same rank and just his first name: Cedric. The guard inspected them both briefly before his gaze flicked back to Elara. His eyes narrowed as he noted the faint shimmer of her mana under her cloak.
"A mage?" he asked, his tone tinged with incredulity.
Elara nodded, clasping her hands lightly in front of her. "Yes. I specialize in frost magic."
The guard's expression shifted into something distinctly condescending. He handed the adventurer cards back to Cedric with a scoff and crossed his arms. "A D-Rank rogue mage?" he said, his voice loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby recruits. "Right. That's a new one."
Elara stiffened, her cheeks burning, but she kept her composure. "I assure you, I'm no imposter—"
"You're wasting your breath," the guard interrupted, shaking his head with a sneer. "Mages don't crawl out of the dirt. If you were a real mage, you'd have a noble's crest or a Mage Tower insignia. You don't look like either. This isn't a place for amateurs playing dress-up."
Cedric's jaw tightened his grip on his sword visibly tightening. "Watch your tongue," he growled. "Lady Elara is more capable than most here."
The guard raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. "A loyal lapdog, eh? Listen, kid, this isn't some backwater village. This is an expedition under the Thaddeus Duchy's banner. Impersonating a mage here isn't just foolish—it's dangerous. You should've done a better job at your act."
Elara took a step forward, her head held high despite the insult. "I don't need to prove anything to you," she said, her voice steady.
"Oh, you don't?" the guard retorted. "Then don't be surprised when the captain tosses you out on your—"
Before he could finish, the air around Elara turned icy. A sharp chill swept over the courtyard, drawing startled gasps from nearby adventurers. The guard froze mid-sentence as shimmering frost began to coalesce in the air around Elara's outstretched hand.
Within seconds, the frost condensed into a crystalline spear, its sharp edges glittering ominously in the torchlight. The spear hovered for a moment before hurtling forward, streaking through the air like a comet.
SWOOSH!
The frost spear grazed past the guard, so close that the icy chill left a faint sheen of frost on his cheek. It embedded itself into the wall behind him with a resounding CRACK, shattering into a spray of sparkling ice shards.
The guard staggered back, his eyes wide with shock as he touched his frozen cheek. "What the—!"
"I suggest," Elara said, her voice cold and cutting, "that you think twice before accusing someone of impersonating a mage."
The courtyard had gone silent, all eyes on her. Cedric stepped forward, placing a hand on Elara's shoulder in a silent gesture of restraint, though the pride in his expression was unmistakable.
The guard's face twisted briefly, a flash of indignation crossing his features, but it vanished almost as quickly as it had come. He straightened his posture, brushing a hand over his frost-slicked cheek and exhaling sharply. The courtyard was still silent, the tension thick in the air as every eye remained on him.
With a grudging nod, he lowered his gaze briefly toward Elara. "I stand corrected," he said, his voice steady but lacking the condescension from earlier. "You've made your point, mage."
Cedric's eyes narrowed slightly, watching the guard's movements with suspicion, but Elara remained composed, her frosty demeanor fading into a calm, quiet confidence. She didn't gloat or press further, simply inclining her head slightly in acknowledgment.
The guard turned to Cedric next, his tone more measured now. "Both of you—follow me. I'll take you to Captain Edran."
Without waiting for a response, he pivoted sharply on his heel and began walking toward the building's entrance. Elara and Cedric exchanged a glance before following, the silence around them breaking as the onlookers murmured and whispered among themselves.
"Arrogant bastard," Cedric said under his breath, his expression still looking angry. He really wanted to show this guard his place, but since Elara didn't mention anything he refrained from acting rashly.
As they approached the large double doors leading into the recruitment station, the guard's pace remained brisk. His demeanor, though stiff, had shifted—there was no lingering arrogance, only a sense of professional duty as he escorted them.
Inside, the station was just as lively as the courtyard. Adventurers and mercenaries of all kinds bustled about, some standing in lines while others reviewed maps pinned to the walls. The scent of ink, parchment, and oil from nearby lanterns filled the air. At the far end of the room, a large desk was stationed where a man in polished armor sat, his presence commanding yet approachable.
The guard stopped a few paces from the desk, turning to address the two newcomers. "Captain Edran is ahead. Present yourselves directly to him."
Elara nodded curtly. "Thank you."
The guard hesitated for a moment, then inclined his head slightly toward her. "Good luck on the expedition. You'll need it."
With that, he stepped aside, his posture still tense but devoid of hostility. Cedric watched him for a moment before leading Elara toward the captain.
Chapter 357: Recruitment (2)
Captain Edran looked up from a stack of documents as they approached, his sharp eyes quickly assessing the pair. His silver-gray hair and a faint scar running across his jawline spoke of years of experience, and the faint aura of authority around him was unmistakable.
"You're here for the expedition?" Edran asked, his voice steady and direct.
"Yes, Captain," Elara said, stepping forward. "My name is Elara, and this is Cedric. We've come to join."
Edran's gaze flicked briefly to Cedric, then back to Elara. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her, a glimmer of curiosity evident. "A mage?"
Elara nodded. "Yes. Frost magic."
Edran leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Interesting. We don't see many rogue mages, especially not ones with enough nerve to come here." His tone wasn't dismissive, but neither was it overly welcoming. But then his eyes gleamed with a faint spark of amusement as he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. "I've heard you've already made an impression in the city," he remarked, his tone casual but probing.
Elara's shoulders stiffened immediately, the faintest flicker of unease crossing her features. She hadn't expected anyone outside the courtyard to know about the incident so soon. Was the citizens from yesterday already spreading tales, or was it just the nature of a city as vibrant and gossipy as Stormhaven?
Noticing her reaction, Edran's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Winds are quite strong in this city, Miss Elara," he said, his voice light with humor. "News spreads fast. I see we have quite a strong-spirited young lady here."
Elara straightened her posture, the unease fading as her determination took hold. "I can't stand injustice to women," she replied simply, her tone calm but resolute.
Edran regarded her for a moment, his smile fading into something more serious. "Injustice to women? That is a rash path," he said, his tone laced with warning.
Elara met his gaze directly, her blue eyes unwavering. "That is a path that I am willing to take."
Edran's expression softened slightly, though his gaze remained sharp. "Is that so? Then so be it." He leaned back again, crossing his arms as he studied her more intently. "But words only go so far. I'll need to see for myself what you can do. Not much—just a glimpse of your abilities. Enough to understand the foundation you're working with."
Elara hesitated briefly, then gave a firm nod. "Understood."
Edran gestured toward a clear area in the center of the room, where other adventurers were undergoing physical and magical tests. The space was marked with scorch marks, cracks in the stone floor, and faint remnants of magical residue, evidence of prior demonstrations.
"Mages tend to be stingy with their spells," Edran added, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "So don't feel the need to go all out. A quick showcase will suffice."
Elara stepped into the designated area, drawing her hood back slightly to give herself more freedom to move. Her hands hovered at her sides, and she drew in a steadying breath, centering herself.
Cedric watched silently from the sidelines, his posture relaxed but his eyes keenly observing. He knew Elara's abilities well, but he also understood the importance of this moment for her. It wasn't just about impressing Edran—it was about proving to herself that she was ready.
Elara's mana flowed effortlessly, her body humming with the familiar sensation of frost magic. She extended her hand, and in an instant, a thin sheet of ice spread across the ground, glimmering faintly under the torchlight. The temperature in the room dropped perceptibly, and a faint mist rose from the frozen surface.
With a sharp motion, she clenched her fist. From the ice sheet erupted a series of crystalline spikes, each perfectly formed and razor-sharp. They shot upward, stopping just short of the ceiling, before shimmering and dissolving into a soft cascade of snowflakes.
The demonstration lasted mere seconds, but the precision and control were undeniable.
Edran's eyes narrowed slightly, his analytical gaze taking in every detail. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "Efficient. Controlled. A good start. It appears that your master is quite a fine mage."
Elara's posture tensed almost imperceptibly as Captain Edran's words settled over the room. Her blue eyes widened slightly, and for a split second, her calm composure faltered. How did he know about her master? Had she given herself away somehow? Was it truly that obvious?
Edran, catching the flicker of unease in her expression, broke into a hearty laugh, the deep sound filling the space. "Relax, young lady," he said, his tone carrying a surprising warmth. "Even if it wasn't obvious, you've just made it so."
Elara blinked, her cheeks flushing faintly. She opened her mouth to respond, but Edran raised a hand, still smiling. "Seeing rogue mages is a rare occasion," he continued, his voice steady and thoughtful. "That's especially true for someone your age—and with that level of control. It doesn't take much to deduce that someone guided you. I've been doing this long enough to know the marks of good teaching when I see them."
She ducked her head slightly, trying to compose herself. The compliment felt both validating and a little overwhelming. "I… I suppose that makes sense," she said softly, her voice tinged with flustered humility.
Edran watched her closely, his sharp gaze softening. "You're young, but you're not lacking in spirit. I respect that." He leaned back slightly, his arms crossing again. "And don't worry—I'm not interested in prying into your past. You've got your reasons for being here, and that's enough for me."
Elara glanced up at him, her blush deepening. There was something unexpectedly kind in the captain's demeanor, a sense of fairness that put her slightly at ease. Despite his earlier sternness, he carried himself with a balance of authority and approachability that felt almost paternal. For a moment, she wondered if this was why so many adventurers seemed to trust him.
"Thank you, Captain," she managed, her voice more composed now.
Edran smiled faintly, a glint of amusement still lingering in his eyes. "Save the thanks for later. You're just getting started. And trust me, the challenges ahead won't care if you've got a good teacher or not. It's your own strength and resolve that'll see you through."
Elara nodded firmly, her resolve strengthening. "I'll remember that."
Cedric, who had been quietly observing the exchange, stepped forward slightly, a glare on his face. He looked rather gruff and angry. "She is already proving herself; she will not stop here."
Edran's gaze snapped to Cedric, the warmth in his expression vanishing in an instant. His sharp, cold eyes bore into the knight, carrying an unspoken challenge. Cedric, undeterred, met Edran's gaze head-on, his jaw tightening as he refused to back down.
For a tense moment, silence fell between them. Then, without warning, the longsword at Edran's side hissed free of its scabbard. The blade gleamed in the torchlight as it sliced through the air in a swift, controlled arc.
CLANG!
Cedric reacted on instinct, drawing his own blade and intercepting Edran's strike at the last possible moment. The force of the clash sent a reverberating shock down his arms, and he stumbled back a step, his balance momentarily faltering.
Edran held his stance for a beat longer, the tip of his sword pointed toward Cedric's chest, before smoothly retracting his blade. He sheathed it in a single fluid motion, his expression unreadable.
"A knight that speaks unnecessarily is a burden," Edran said, his voice cold and clipped. His eyes lingered on Cedric, their sharpness unwavering. "Focus on protecting your lady. That is your role."
Cedric's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, a thin bead of sweat trailing down his temple. His grip on his sword tightened, but he didn't reply, understanding the weight behind Edran's words. Slowly, he straightened, lowering his blade.
Edran turned his back on them, his steps deliberate as he moved toward his desk. "You will be assigned to the fourth group," he said over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Cedric's knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword, but he held his tongue. Elara, watching the exchange with wide eyes, placed a hand lightly on his arm. "Cedric," she murmured, her voice soft but firm.
He glanced at her, his tension easing slightly as he met her gaze. With a curt nod, he sheathed his sword and stepped back, his usual composure slowly returning.
Edran didn't look back as he addressed them one last time. "Report to the fourth station for briefing. Walk just straight, then turn right. You will see the sign for the fourth station."
Elara and Cedric nodded curtly at Edran's dismissal and began making their way toward the exit. Cedric's steps were heavy, his frustration still evident, but Elara's mind was already preoccupied with the events that had just transpired.
As they neared the threshold, movement near the entrance caught Elara's attention. She glanced toward the recruitment desk and froze, her heart skipping a beat. There, standing before the same guard who had questioned her earlier, was a young man with pitch-black eyes and unruly dark hair.
'That's him… the one from the inn,' Elara thought, her breath catching for a moment. Her memory of his wide-eyed stare resurfaced, along with the brief but curious encounter. There was something about him—something she couldn't quite place.
Without thinking, she slowed her steps and focused her senses, honing in on the exchange at the desk. The faint hum of the room dulled around her as she tuned in on the conversation.
"ID?" the guard asked, his tone brisk.
The young man produced a small card, sliding it across the counter. "Here."
The guard picked it up, his eyes scanning the information. "Hmm… Name: Luca. Adventurer rank: D. A swordsman."
'Luca,' Elara repeated in her mind, committing the name to memory.
There was one name that came into her mind, but she would rather forget that.
'It can't be.'
Her gaze remained locked on him, taking in his relaxed yet confident posture. His cat, still perched on his shoulder, flicked its tail lazily, its serene demeanor contrasting with the bustling recruitment station.
Just then for a split second, their eyes met.
Pitch black eyes.
Bright blue eyes.
As they locked, Elara for some reason felt the need to avert her gaze, but she stumbled a little on the process.
Cedric noticed her stumble. "What is it?" he asked quietly.
"Ehm...Nothing. Let's go."
And just like that, they left.
Chapter 358: Recruitment (3)
As Lucavion handed his ID to the guard, Vitaliara perched lazily on his shoulder, her ethereal form glowing faintly under the torchlight. The guard examined the card, his expression neutral.
"Name: Luca. Adventurer rank: D. A swordsman," the guard read aloud before nodding and sliding the ID back across the counter. "You're clear. Head straight, you will meet with Captain Edran."
Lucavion inclined his head in a gesture of thanks, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Taking his ID, he tucked it neatly into his coat and stepped through the gates, his stride relaxed yet deliberate.
As they passed into the bustling recruitment area, Vitaliara shifted on his shoulder, her glowing eyes narrowing as she turned her gaze toward the blonde girl exiting the room. [Isn't that the girl from the inn?] she asked, her voice quiet but pointed.
Lucavion didn't miss a step, his smile never faltering. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied smoothly, his tone nonchalant.
[Liar,] Vitaliara shot back, her tail flicking with subtle agitation. [You recognized her. I felt it.]
Lucavion gave a soft chuckle, his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention. "I think you're imagining things, my dear."
But Vitaliara wasn't convinced. Her translucent form pulsed faintly as her gaze lingered on the retreating figure of Elara. [There's something peculiar about her,] she murmured, more to herself than to him. [Something familiar... but different.]
Lucavion's face flickered for the briefest of moments, but he quickly masked it with an exaggerated yawn. "You're overthinking, as usual."
[No, I'm not,] Vitaliara insisted, her tone sharpening. [I sensed it. It's not like when I first met you—when you were using Starlight as your mana. This girl's energy is... strange. Compound. Integrated into herself in a way I can't quite place.]
Lucavion remained silent, his steps unchanging as they moved through the recruitment hall. Vitaliara's tail curled slightly around his neck, her glowing eyes narrowing further as she studied his expression—or rather, his carefully maintained lack of one.
[You're hiding something, Lucavion,] she said quietly. [And I'm going to find out what it is.]
Lucavion's smirk returned, faint and enigmatic. "Good luck with that," he said, his voice carrying a playful lilt. "Now, let's focus. We've got an expedition to join, remember?"
Vitaliara huffed softly but said nothing more, her glowing form settling into a thoughtful silence.
Familiar, yet different, she thought again, her tail flicking with restless curiosity. Just who are you, and why does he seem so intent on pretending you don't exist?
Lucavion strode into the room, his steps unhurried but deliberate, as if the bustling energy of the recruitment area had no hold over him. The chamber he entered was more subdued, the air heavy with an unspoken authority that emanated from the man standing at its center. Captain Edran.
The moment Lucavion stepped inside, a subtle pressure brushed against him—not oppressive, but sharp, like the edge of a well-honed blade. His instincts, honed through years of battle and survival, flared in response.
As expected, he is strong, Lucavion thought, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the man before him. Captain Edran stood tall and composed, his silver-gray hair and the faint scar on his jawline adding to his aura of experience. But it wasn't just his presence that caught Lucavion's attention—it was the subtle flow of energy radiating from him, restrained yet unmistakably potent.
At least a 6th-rank Awakened, Lucavion calculated inwardly. Or perhaps even peak 6th-rank.
He allowed his gaze to sweep over the man, noting the way Edran carried himself. His strength wasn't just in his rank—it was in the way his aura harmonized with his physicality, a mark of someone who had honed their abilities through countless battles.
It's been a while since my senses warned me like this, Lucavion mused, a faint thrill stirring within him. His fingers twitched faintly at his sides, an almost imperceptible reaction to the unspoken question that lingered in his mind. How would it feel if we were to fight?
Before his thoughts could wander further, Captain Edran's voice cut through the air like a whip. "All of the weirdos are coming today, it seems." His tone was gruff, edged with a dry sarcasm. His sharp gray eyes fixed on Lucavion with a penetrating intensity. "Do you want to die, kid?"
Lucavion blinked, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. "Hmm?"
"Cease your intent," Edran said bluntly, his gaze unwavering.
Lucavion raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance as he tilted his head slightly. "Intent?"
"Yes. You are oozing intent."
Lucavion's face softened slightly as he tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowing faintly in confusion. "Intent?" he repeated, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. "I wasn't aware I was exuding any."
Edran's sharp gray eyes didn't waver, his stance unmoving and resolute. "Don't think that your sword intent is only limited to the mana drawn from your core," he said, his voice calm but firm, carrying the weight of years of understanding. "There's a reason why it's called intent."
The words hung in the air, pointed yet deliberately incomplete, as if Edran were handing Lucavion the missing piece of a puzzle. He fixed his gaze on Lucavion, his silence a clear invitation to figure it out yourself.
Lucavion's smile faded entirely as he met Edran's unrelenting gaze, the pieces slowly clicking into place. The weight of realization settled over him, subtle but undeniable, as his thoughts pieced together the captain's cryptic words.
I see, he thought, his eyes flickering with newfound understanding.
The mana around him—the faint currents of the world itself—was subtly responding to his unspoken thoughts. His idle musings of testing Edran's strength, of imagining a clash between them, had unconsciously bled into the energy he carried. It wasn't bloodthirst or malice, but a subtle projection of his inner self, amplified by his connection to the blade.
That's why people avoid me when I'm armed, he realized, a faint tinge of exasperation coloring his thoughts. Sigh... how stupid. I'd always assumed it was because I looked handsome.
A flicker of amusement returned to his features as he straightened slightly, schooling his expression into something more neutral.
'But then again, I would assume this can be avoided with just this?'
A thought occurred in his mind. If the reason for this 'intent' phenomenon to occur was related to mana and his thoughts, there were simply two things that could be done.
Either he would need to remove the variables from this situation. One variable was thoughts and thoughts wouldn't be stopped.
That is why…
He simply separated his thoughts from his mana.
"Hmm?"
The subtle hum in the air stilled, and the oppressive edge of his presence dissolved like a dissipating fog.
Edran's sharp eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his stoic expression. "Did you do that intentionally?" he asked, his tone edged with disbelief.
Lucavion tilted his head, his smirk returning as he feigned ignorance. "Do what, Captain?"
Edran's expression darkened, his voice lowering with a touch of warning. "...Don't play with me, boy."
"You must be misunderstanding something," Lucavion replied smoothly, his tone light and disarming. He brushed an invisible speck of dust from his coat, his demeanor utterly unbothered.
Edran clicked his tongue, his sharp gaze narrowing on Lucavion. "Tch. Let's not waste any more time. What is your name?"
Lucavion paused for a split second, his dark eyes flickering with amusement as he adjusted his reply. "Lucavi—Luca."
"Luca?" Edran repeated, his tone laced with suspicion as he studied the young man before him.
"Yes," Lucavion confirmed, his smirk unwavering. "Luca. A simple name for a simple swordsman."
Edran's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, as though weighing the truth of his words. Finally, the captain exhaled sharply, a faint sneer tugging at his lips. "You're a strange one, Luca. Keep your tricks in check, or you'll regret it."
"Understood, Captain. I'll do my best to behave."
SWOOSH!
Just as Lucavion's lips parted to deliver another quip, a sharp swish of air cut through the room. Without warning, a blade descended in a swift, calculated arc.
Clank!
The metallic clash reverberated through the chamber as Lucavion's hand moved instinctively. His own blade, drawn in a blur of motion, intercepted Edran's strike with precision. Despite the suddenness of the attack, Lucavion stood firm, his balance unwavering as his dark eyes locked onto Edran's.
For a moment, the two swords remained crossed, a faint hum of tension filling the air. Then Edran leaned back slightly, his blade withdrawing with a deliberate motion. "Not bad," he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of approval.
Lucavion smirked, lowering his blade with an easy grace before sheathing it smoothly. "I'll take that as a compliment, Captain."
Edran eyed him critically, his sharp gaze scrutinizing every detail of Lucavion's stance and reaction. "Quick hands, steady footing, and you didn't lose your cool," he remarked, his voice steady. "But don't let it go to your head. That was a test, not a fight."
Lucavion inclined his head slightly. "Of course, Captain. A test of reflexes, I assume?"
Edran didn't reply immediately. Instead, he tapped the flat of his blade against his shoulder, his expression unreadable. "More than that. It's also a measure of restraint. Plenty of swordsmen can draw their blades quickly, but only a few can do it without losing themselves to instinct. You held firm."
Lucavion chuckled softly, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. "I appreciate the evaluation. I take it I passed?"
Edran's lips twitched into a faint smirk, though it barely softened the sharpness of his gaze. "You've got potential, but potential alone won't get you far on this expedition." He turned away, his tone cooling as he added, "Head to the third station. Walk straight and then turn right, you will see the sign."
'Hmm?'