The scent of blood still lingered in the air as Draven, Vyrell, and Soren sat in the dimly lit meeting hall.
Their victory had been swift and brutal.
Now came the part that really mattered.
Lucavion entered the room last, his steps slow and unhurried.
He looked like a man who had already moved past the battle—as if the blood soaking his coat and the wounds still healing across his skin were minor inconveniences, nothing more.
He dropped himself into the nearest chair, exhaling lightly.
Draven leaned forward, his gray eyes sharp. "So."
Lucavion tilted his head slightly. "So?"
Soren let out a short laugh. "You really fucking did it, huh?"
Vyrell remained silent, studying Lucavion carefully.
Draven sighed, rubbing his temple. "Aldric's gone. The Black Veil's crushed. Varenthia's ours."
Lucavion leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The exhaustion was creeping into his bones now, dull and heavy, but his expression remained the same—calm, unreadable, just the barest hint of amusement lingering at the edge of his lips.
He stretched his fingers, rolling his shoulders slightly before speaking.
"Things may not be that simple," he muttered.
Draven frowned. "What do you mean?"
Lucavion closed his eyes for a second, collecting his thoughts. "Aldric was affiliated with the Royal Family. That's not something you just walk away from." He opened his eyes, looking directly at Draven. "If they had plans for this city, then this may not be over."
Soren clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Fucking great. Just when I thought we were done."
Vyrell exhaled through his nose, his fingers steepled in thought. "It's worth considering, but we have no reason to assume immediate retaliation. The Royal Family wouldn't move for someone like Aldric alone. He wasn't a noble anymore—he was a tool they discarded once. The question is whether his work here was part of something bigger."
Draven leaned back, his smirk returning slightly. "Well… we'll think about that later."
Lucavion hummed in response, as if he had already moved past the conversation.
Draven studied him for a moment before tilting his head. "So. Now what?"
Lucavion raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Draven smirked. "What are you planning to do now?"
Lucavion exhaled softly, stretching one arm. "I have no other business here," he said smoothly. "So, I'll be leaving."
Draven blinked. "Already?"
Lucavion glanced at him, smirking. "What? Now you're fond of me?"
Draven scoffed, rolling his eyes.
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, voice dropping into a teasing drawl. "I'm sorry, but I'm not into men."
Soren immediately burst into laughter.
Vyrell let out a slow sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Draven just stared at Lucavion for a long moment, unblinking.
Then, finally, he muttered, "Tch."
Draven let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. "You and your fucking mouth."
Lucavion smirked, completely unbothered.
Soren, still chuckling, wiped at the corner of his eye. "Shit, I actually think I'll miss you, bastard."
Vyrell exhaled through his nose, setting his hands on the table. "Before you go," he said smoothly, "there's something we need to address."
Lucavion raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Draven leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "You helped us take Varenthia. Whether it was for your own reasons or not, we came out of this a hell of a lot stronger than before." He tilted his head slightly. "And that doesn't go unpaid."
Lucavion hummed, watching them with mild curiosity.
Soren smirked. "A reward, basically."
Lucavion chuckled. "I don't recall asking for one."
Vyrell met his gaze, unwavering. "Consider it a matter of principle."
Draven exhaled sharply. "You took care of Aldric. We took care of the rest. And now, Varenthia belongs to us. That means it's only fair we acknowledge the bastard who made it possible."
Lucavion drummed his fingers against the table. "Hoh? So generous all of a sudden?"
Draven rolled his eyes. "Tch. Don't make this weird."
Lucavion smirked, but he didn't immediately decline. His gaze flicked between them, considering.
"Alright," he mused. "I'll bite. What are you offering?"
Draven exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "Since you're so damn eager to leave, let's get this over with."
Lucavion smirked but said nothing as Draven reached into his coat and pulled out the same old, metal case from before. With a lazy flick of his fingers, he slid it across the table.
Lucavion caught it effortlessly, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? This again?"
Draven nodded. "That artifact—it's yours now."
Lucavion tapped the case once, thoughtful. "Didn't you say this thing was stolen from some noble family's vault?"
Draven scoffed. "Yeah, so? Not like I'm going to use it. Besides, you got more out of it than I ever did. Might as well leave it with the bastard who actually made it work."
Lucavion chuckled, flipping the case open briefly. The artifact still pulsed with faint, irregular light, proof of its defective yet intriguing nature. He snapped it shut and tucked it away. "Not bad."
Soren grinned, setting a large, heavy pouch onto the table with a solid thud.
"Gold," he said simply. "Enough to get you through a few months of good living. Or a few weeks if you're the type to waste it on drinks and women."
Lucavion smirked, resting his chin against his knuckles. "Tempting. Maybe I'll see how quickly I can burn through it."
Vyrell sighed, but instead of commenting on Lucavion's attitude, he placed a small, intricately carved box onto the table.
Lucavion's sharp gaze flicked toward it.
Vyrell's voice was calm, measured. "A vial of Aethermist. Rare. Expensive. And difficult to acquire."
Lucavion's sharp gaze flicked toward the vial, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the box before lifting it. The silver-blue liquid inside shimmered under the dim candlelight, its luster almost unnatural.
A rare alchemical concoction, something whispered about in the underground but rarely ever seen. Some claimed it could increase a person's affinity with magic. Others believed it could awaken dormant abilities.
It wasn't as mystical as the rumors made it out to be.
"It's a mana veins enhancer," Lucavion murmured, tilting the vial slightly as the liquid swirled within. "Speeds up cultivation. Helps breakthroughs."
Draven let out a low whistle. "Hah. Something like that could make a difference in cultivating."
Soren frowned slightly, crossing his arms. "And you're just giving it away?"
Vyrell remained composed. "I am."
Marciel, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his shrewd gaze flicking toward Vyrell. "Are you sure about this? Aethermist isn't something people just hand out. You wouldn't rather keep it for yourself?"
Vyrell exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "I've been stuck at 5-star for over ten years," he admitted, his voice even, matter-of-fact. "And I know I'll remain that way until the day I die."
Draven's smirk faded slightly as he studied the older man.
Vyrell continued, his fingers steepled before him. "I've tested my limits. I know where they are. Aethermist won't change that."
Lucavion's expression was unreadable as he flicked the vial once, watching the light bend through the liquid.
"Then you're wasting it on me," he said smoothly.
Vyrell's lips curled into the faintest smirk. "Am I?"
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, amused.
Vyrell leaned forward just slightly, his sharp eyes locked onto Lucavion's. "You, on the other hand… don't seem like someone who's anywhere near his limit."
For a moment, the weight of Vyrell's words lingered in the air.
Then, Lucavion let out a soft chuckle, tucking the vial away inside his coat.
"Well then," he murmured. "Guess we'll see."
Lucavion turned, prepared to make his exit, but just as he stepped toward the door—
Draven's voice stopped him.
Lucavion exhaled softly, tilting his head slightly as he glanced back. "Hmm?"
Draven tossed something toward him. Lucavion caught it effortlessly, his fingers closing around three small, solid objects. When he opened his palm, he found three tokens—each distinct, each carrying an insignia he hadn't seen before.
His dark eyes flickered with curiosity. "What's this?"
Draven smirked, leaning back into his chair. "That one in the middle," he gestured toward the first token, "belongs to the Shadowmark Syndicate. You ever need information—tracking, records, a person found—take it to any of their branches. Show that token, and they'll listen."
Lucavion hummed, turning it between his fingers. "Oh…?" His smirk twitched, a hint of amusement in his voice. "So, an organization of rats?"
Marciel scoffed. "Information brokers, if you want to be polite about it."
Lucavion chuckled but didn't argue.
His eyes moved to the other two tokens. They were different in shape and insignia. He glanced up at Soren and Vyrell. "And these?"
Soren grunted, arms crossed. "That one's mine. Crimson Dogs' sigil. We don't do 'favors,' but if you ever need some muscle, flash that, and we'll hear you out."
Vyrell's gaze was calm as he spoke. "And mine… That's from the Duskrend Pact. My men don't move often, but when they do, it's efficient. If there's ever a situation that calls for precision rather than brute force, that token will open doors for you."
Lucavion studied them for a moment. Then, slowly, his smirk widened.
"Well, well…" He rolled the tokens over his knuckles with an easy flick of his fingers. "Didn't realize I was making so many friends."
Draven scoffed. "Tch. Don't get ahead of yourself. Consider it a professional courtesy. You helped us clean up this mess, so it's only right you get something out of it."
Lucavion tucked the tokens away into his coat. "How generous."
Vyrell exhaled. "Are you actually leaving now?"
Lucavion stretched slightly. "Unless you plan to keep me here?"
Soren chuckled. "Tempting."
Draven smirked. "You are an amusing bastard."
Lucavion turned toward the door once more, lifting a hand in a lazy half-wave. "It's been fun."
Draven watched him for a moment, then exhaled, shaking his head.