Lucien stood in front of Master Gareth, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently on the wooden floor. The old man was hunched over the workbench, scribbling on a worn scrap of parchment with a charcoal nub, muttering to himself.
Lucien glanced at the wall clock.
Only fifteen minutes until 9 a.m.
Damn it.
He clenched his jaw. This old fossil's slower than cold molasses.
"Old man," Lucien said, trying to keep his tone even. "You planning to finish before next week?"
Gareth didn't even look up. "Boy, you got a date or somethin'?" he grunted. "Hold your horses. I'm nearly done."
Lucien let out a long, sharp breath through his nose, resisting the urge to argue. The revolver was already tucked securely in his waistband, hidden beneath his coat. Elara had left for her friend's house an hour ago.
If Lucien remembered right, the girl was some merchant's daughter who'd bought her way into the Academy. Loud. Entitled. Once, she came over and talked for hours about her father's money—like it was her own personal crown.
Finally, Gareth straightened up with a grunt. "There. All done."
Lucien snatched the list, scanned it quickly, then turned toward the door—but paused.
On impulse, he reached over and grabbed a steel longsword off the rack near the forge.
"I'm taking this too."
"Hey—!" Gareth's chair screeched as he stood. "That blade's worth more than my boots, you little bastard!"
Lucien was already halfway out the door.
Gareth groaned, rubbing his temples. "Bloody brat."
He stared at the half-finished tools and parts on his bench. No time to chase him down now. He needed to finish the job. The noble who ordered this steam-powered cooler was as petty as they came—one scratch out of place and the payment would be halved.
But if it was done right? The payout could cover Elara's next two months of fees.
"I swear, if that boy causes trouble today…" he muttered, reaching for his hammer. "Just don't make me regret this, Kael."
With a sigh, he got back to work.
###
Meanwhile…
Lucien sprinted down the cobbled streets, weaving between carts and townsfolk with the kind of speed only desperation could fuel.
Two gold coins jingled in his pocket—more than most laborers earned in five years. Gareth had handed them over with a gruff warning and a tired look, trusting him to make the purchases. Even now, Lucien could hardly believe it.
For a man like Gareth, two gold was everything. The forge barely scraped by, and most of what little they earned went to pay Elara's Academy tuition.
Lucien could feel the weight of that trust like a stone in his gut.
He could run.
But no.
This continent—magic-bound, rapidly industrializing, crawling with surveillance towers and arcane scrying wards—was not a place where fugitives lasted long.
Besides, he thought grimly, I've finally got a peaceful life. For now.
He wasn't about to ruin it.
Not yet.
Not until the escape route was clear.
Not until he had everything he needed.
Lucien arrived at the eastern gate just as the forest's towering shadows stretched across the cobbled path. The woods ahead—whispered about in taverns as Whisperveil Hollow—were infamous. The deeper you went, the more dangerous the abyssal creatures lurking beneath the trees.
Near the edge of the checkpoint, he spotted them: Marcus and the others, clustered in a loose circle near a supply cart.
Lucien jogged toward them, breathing hard. Sweat dripped down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.
Damn it. Just five minutes late...
He could've taken the bus, but it would've cost him fifty copper—more than he had. As for Gareth's gold coin, he wasn't stupid enough to break it just for that. He'd end up stuck with a pouch full of silver and copper, clinking with every step—a hassle to carry and a magnet for thieves.
"Five minutes late," Marcus said, checking the polished dial of his absurdly expensive wristwatch. "Not exactly the impression of discipline, Kael." His hand casually drifted to the ornate sword at his hip, as if to remind everyone it was there.
Lucien didn't reply.
"Tch. This is the 'decent recruit' you talked about?" Alex muttered, sneering. "Looks like a damn chimney sweep. Can't even polish his boots." He turned his back with a scoff. "Commoners..."
"Don't be so harsh, Alex," Lydia chimed in with a laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe he had to finish scrubbing floors before he left home." The others chuckled.
The others chuckled—except for one.
Kai, the broad-shouldered brute leaning on his greataxe, just laughed low in his throat. A deep, wordless sound. He didn't speak, but the amusement in his eyes said enough.
Lucien gave them nothing.
No reaction.
He'd dealt with worse.
Instead, he scanned the group, eyes narrowing at the abyssal auras bleeding off their bodies. Upper Mortal, some brushing Peak. They looked confident—too confident. All swagger, no discipline.
We'll see how confident they are when something starts hunting us in there, Lucien thought. If one of them dies, I might even get some decent loot.
Lucien cleared his throat. "You said five, Marcus. I count four."
Marcus opened his mouth to reply, but a breathless voice cut in from behind.
"I'm here!"
Lucien turned—and blinked in surprise.
It was Mira, the guild clerk. She jogged up to the group, cheeks slightly flushed, auburn hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail. "Sorry! Got held up. Paperwork never ends."
The moment she arrived, the tone of the group shifted.
"Oh, don't worry about it," Marcus said quickly, straightening his back. "We were just getting started."
Kai gave her a small wave. "Glad you made it, Mira."
"You're always welcome," Alex added with a grin that tried too hard.
Even the gruff old soldier standing off to the side—the one who hadn't said a word—let out an awed murmur. "Goddess descended…"
Lucien watched the whole display with a blank face.
Lydia didn't say anything. She just adjusted her quiver, eyes flicking briefly to Marcus… then to Mira. Kael could feel it—jealousy, faint but bitter.
Lucien exhaled silently through his nose. Mira was beautiful, no question—clear eyes, warm smile, radiant confidence. The kind of person people wanted to believe in.
And from experience, Lucien knew exactly what that meant.
People always equated a pretty face with a noble soul. Heroes were beautiful. Villains? Not so much. That's how the world worked. A lie so deep even the abyss hadn't managed to drown it.
He looked down at his own hands. Calloused. Scarred. A faint burn mark peeked from beneath his sleeve—a gift from the forge. Kael's body wasn't handsome. Not even close.
But what did it matter?
Death didn't discriminate based on cheekbones.
"Here," Mira said suddenly, offering him a cold drink from her satchel.
Lucien blinked, caught off guard. "You… remembered me?"
She laughed. "Hard to forget someone who stares like he's planning ten different escape routes."
Lucien let a faint smile flicker across his lips as he took the drink.
The others just… watched.
Silence settled again as a nearby officer stepped forward to verify their adventurer badges. One by one, they presented them, received their stamped clearance, and moved toward the eastern gate.
Beyond it lay the forest.
Dark. Vast. Breathing with abyssal life.
Their first mission had begun.