SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 113: Drift (1)

Lucen raised an eyebrow. "You mean a drift."

"I mean a drift where the core’s never been recovered and people stopped logging attempts after the fourth team stopped coming out."

Lucen set the drink down slowly.

"Now we’re talking."

Varik added, "No official clearance. No guilds. Just you. Maybe a tracker. I want to see what happens when things don’t play fair."

Lucen didn’t blink.

’Finally.’

"Tier five?"

Varik nodded once. "South corridor. Unmarked. We go tomorrow."

Lucen leaned back slightly. "And if I say no?"

"You won’t."

Lucen gave him a dry look. "That confident in me?"

Varik looked straight at him. "No. Just confident you’re not dumb enough to let someone else get there first."

Lucen grinned. Barely.

Then said, "You’re staying for dinner or breaking in just to monologue?"

Varik stood up. Walked past him toward the door.

"I have food at home," he said.

Lucen muttered, "Bet it’s labeled and everything."

The door hissed open.

Varik paused halfway out.

"One more thing."

Lucen glanced over. "Yeah?"

"Rest. You’re gonna need it."

The door shut behind him.

Lucen sat in silence for a second.

Then said out loud, "I should really start locking my windows."

—

Lucen blinked awake to the sound of silence.

Not peaceful silence. The wrong kind. The kind that felt like someone had either broken in or was watching you sleep.

He sat up slow. Back stiff. Shoulders sore.

The couch blanket slipped off his legs.

His hair was a mess. System panel still faintly glowing from the night before, hovering low near the floor. Empty bottle on the table. One half-eaten protein wrap still in the wrapper.

He rubbed his eyes.

And then noticed the figure standing directly in front of him.

Long coat. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.

Lucen stared.

"...Are you serious."

Varik didn’t move. freewebnøvel.coɱ

"It’s six-thirty."

Still nothing.

Lucen groaned and rolled his neck.

"You didn’t knock?"

Varik said, "I don’t knock on drift days."

Lucen swung his legs off the couch. "Normal people text."

"You left your comm muted."

Lucen stood. Walked past him toward the fridge. Opened it. Took out the last mana tab like he was being punished.

Varik stayed by the window. Watching the skyline. Not even blinking.

Lucen cracked the seal on the can.

Took a long drink.

Then said, "Do I have time to eat?"

"You can bring something."

Lucen popped the tab again. "Like it’s a picnic."

Varik finally turned. "Tier Five. Unlisted. We move in thirty."

Lucen glanced at him over the rim of the can. "Where?"

"South corridor. West subline. Private anchor point."

"You have a license for that?"

Varik shrugged. "I have a coat and no patience."

Lucen dropped the empty can into the bin.

Then walked toward the wall panel and tapped his system open.

Spell archive loaded. Mana count solid. Gear preset flagged for travel. He didn’t speak while checking.

Varik said, "No more arena fights. No audience. No name tags. This one’s different."

Lucen muttered, "Good. I’ve had enough applause."

He walked to the small cabinet near the door. Pulled on his better jacket. Lighter. Armored weave stitched clean across the shoulders. Not flashy. Just solid.

Boots on. Gloves next.

Varik waited near the door without speaking.

Lucen stepped up beside him.

"Food stop on the way," he said.

Varik raised an eyebrow.

Lucen added, "Or I pass out halfway in."

Varik finally moved.

Door hissed open.

They stepped out.

—

The car wasn’t branded.

No plates, no logos, no guild glyphs.

Just matte black frame, silent wheels, and that soft mana-thrum hum that let you know the engine could probably outrun a drone if it had to.

Lucen sat in the back.

His head rested against the window, eyes half-closed, watching the buildings pass. Most of the city still looked asleep. Shop fronts rolling open. Street sweepers dragging mana vacuums along the gutters. Air smelled like burnt bread and old rain.

His stomach made a faint noise.

Varik didn’t look up from the front passenger seat.

"There’s food in the bag," he said.

Lucen blinked.

"What bag?"

"Floor. Left side."

Lucen leaned down.

Found a black paper bag tucked between his boots.

Opened it.

Inside: one breakfast wrap. Still warm. Steam ghosting out from the top. No note. No brand. Just eggs, protein crumble, and a dash of fire sauce.

Lucen narrowed his eyes.

"You poisoned this?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"You’re not that important."

Lucen took a bite anyway.

It was good. Hot enough to burn the roof of his mouth. Messy. No napkin.

He wiped his hand on his pants.

Varik looked back once.

"You ready?"

Lucen didn’t answer right away.

He chewed. Swallowed.

Then said, "You’re not gonna tell me what’s in the drift, are you."

Varik replied, "You think I know?"

Lucen raised a brow.

"Come on. You picked it."

"I picked it because no one’s mapped it."

"That’s not reassuring."

"I’m not here to reassure you."

Lucen leaned back in the seat again, letting his head rest against the cool glass.

’Perfect morning. Breakfast, threats, and an undocumented death portal.’

He finished the wrap in three more bites.

Tossed the paper bag onto the seat next to him.

Outside, the buildings started thinning. More storage lots. Mana ductwork. Narrower roads. Less foot traffic. More fences.

Eventually, the car slowed.

Varik said, "We’re here."

Lucen sat up.

The place wasn’t marked. Not visibly. Just a dead lot. Concrete cracked with old water lines, a collapsed drainage grate in the center. Faint blue shimmer in the air above it.

The rift didn’t scream.

Didn’t pulse.

Just hung there, like it’d been waiting a long time for someone dumb enough to walk through it again.

Lucen stepped out.

Boots hit pavement.

The air smelled metallic. Not blood. Just mana rawness, like the spellwork in this area had gone unfixed for months.

Varik circled the lot once.

Then pointed at the center.

"There. Anchor’s faded, but it’ll hold long enough."

Lucen cracked his neck.

"You going in first?"

Varik shook his head.

"You are."

Lucen exhaled once through his nose.

No jokes. No warmup.

Just stepped straight to the rift’s edge and muttered, "Figures."

Then walked in.

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