SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 54: Stalker

The stairwell groaned as he stepped up it. Not structurally. Like it didn’t want to help.

He ignored it.

Halfway up, he passed another symbol scratched faintly into the wall. Not one of his.

Just a circle with three crossbars.

Old glyph. Not public. Pre-system.

Lucen stopped.

Ran a thumb over it.

’Who the hell was here before me?’

The wall didn’t answer.

Neither did the thing still tickling the back of his mana threads like it wanted him to turn around.

He didn’t.

He reached the top of the stairwell.

Light filtered down. Not real sunlight. Just a mana-washed glow from the reentry node. Dim. Sickly. But familiar.

Lucen stepped through the gate.

The drift spat him out like a bad memory.

He stumbled once, boots hitting gravel. Air rushed in. Real air. Cold city oxygen with just enough mana trace to sting the back of his throat.

He straightened.

Rolled his shoulder once. freeweɓnovel-cøm

No one was waiting.

Just the sky overhead, gray and flat, with the faintest pink edge like morning had opinions.

The gate behind him pulsed once.

Then sealed.

Lucen pulled his jacket collar higher.

Started walking.

The system blinked again.

A new thread opened.

[Achievement Logged: "First Contact – Seam Entity"]

[EXP Reward: +48]

[Mana Sync: +2 Max]

Lucen didn’t slow.

He read the update, closed it with a flick.

Didn’t say anything out loud.

But in his head, something dry surfaced.

’Forty-eight EXP and a pat on the head. Love that. Perfect exchange for nearly having my soul inverted.’

He crossed the empty block with long, steady strides.

Didn’t run.

Didn’t rush.

But the city suddenly felt like it wasn’t far enough from that place.

—

The sidewalk cracked under his foot.

Not loudly. Just enough to shift gravel where the curb met gutter. Damp fog crawled around the corners of the nearest building, low to the ground, the kind of fog that stuck to your ankles and pretended to be natural.

Lucen’s breath curled once in front of him. Then vanished.

The drift behind him had gone silent. Shut clean. No ripple. No hum.

You’d never know it had happened at all.

He reached the edge of the block, cut through a rusted bike rack, and didn’t bother with the crosswalk. A hollow security post blinked amber like it thought it still had jurisdiction. He ignored it.

The system hadn’t pinged again.

That was good. And worrying.

’If it’s waiting until I’m somewhere comfortable, that means it thinks this isn’t.’

He rubbed the side of his neck.

The ache had settled. But not vanished.

Mana-tug, faint and frayed. Like a spell thread that hadn’t been clipped all the way.

He turned the next corner and stopped.

Someone was leaning against the base of a vending unit.

Hands in his coat pockets. One foot kicked up against the frame. Eyes half-lidded.

Lucen sighed. "You know, normal people wait until someone answers a call."

Gen didn’t move. "Normal people don’t vanish off grid mid-urban and reappear with drift static still in their hair."

Lucen dusted off his sleeve. "It’s styling gel."

"Mm. Reactive styling gel?"

Lucen gave him a flat look and walked past.

Gen pushed off the wall and matched pace.

The street stretched ahead, still quiet, but no longer empty. Delivery drones buzzed in the distance. Mana-fueled trams blinked faint lights from two blocks off. A lone trash glyph was recharging under a canopy, humming like it had too many opinions.

Gen kept pace without speaking for a few seconds.

Then. "You okay?"

Lucen didn’t answer right away.

They passed a broken bus sign with old drift warnings pasted to the side. Most were torn. One said "DON’T ENTER WHAT YOU CAN’T EXIT."

Lucen muttered, "Yeah. Fine."

"You’re not leaking," Gen said, voice quiet.

Lucen arched a brow. "Good to know I passed your inspection."

"No scorch marks. No mana lash. That means whatever happened, it didn’t hit you hard enough to leave a print."

Lucen slowed a fraction. "You track every mana anomaly like that?"

Gen didn’t smile. "Just yours."

They passed a closed café. Someone inside was prepping stock. The glow from the mana burners lit the window with dull orange, like a memory of warmth that hadn’t quite reached the street yet.

Lucen said nothing.

Gen glanced at him sideways. "So. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Of course."

They walked another ten steps in silence.

Then Lucen stopped.

Turned slightly. Not enough to face him. Just enough to give the words room.

"There was something in the drift," he said.

Gen raised a brow.

"Not a monster," Lucen clarified. "Not a core-guardian either. Something... older. Bigger."

Gen’s expression didn’t change.

Lucen looked at him. "And it knew I was there."

The silence after that stretched long.

Finally, Gen said, "Did it speak?"

Lucen shook his head. "Didn’t have to."

He didn’t say the worst part. The thing hadn’t moved like it wanted to fight. It moved like it was verifying something.

Gen exhaled once through his nose.

"Still," Lucen added, "nothing happened."

Gen smirked faintly. "Except the part where you got dragged into an unsanctioned drift at random."

"It appeared near me. I just entered to avoid casualties."

"You’re terrible at self-preservation."

Lucen grinned faintly. "No one pays for boring."

They started walking again.

Gen’s hands stayed in his coat pockets. But his shoulders had shifted. Straighter now. More alert.

Lucen noticed.

"You expecting company?"

Gen said nothing.

But his next step was slower.

And the way his eyes tracked the rooftops said yes.

Lucen’s fingers twitched once near his jacket hem. No glow. Not yet. Just ready.

Something unseen tickled the edge of his senses.

Not a threat. Not exactly.

But attention.

Focus.

Like something in the city had turned its head toward them, and hadn’t looked away.

Lucen said, very quietly, "You sure we’re not still inside it?"

Gen didn’t laugh.

They kept walking.

One more corner. One more block.

And then maybe he could rest.

—

The apartment block came into view like it had given up trying to impress anyone.

Half the letters on the entry plaque were missing. A glyph-lock dangled loose from the side gate, one spark short of dead. The outer wall still had a streak of mana-burn two meters long, someone’s idea of practicing projectile control, probably without asking.

Gen stopped at the sidewalk.

Lucen didn’t.

He just kept walking up the cracked steps like the building owed him back rent.

Gen followed. Not close. Just behind enough to suggest he wasn’t staying long.

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