SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 59: Not The Enemy

He moved again, angled toward the window, and sketched the sigil core for [Shockweave Bolt]. A line. A spike. A snap curve.

Mana traced dead-center on target.

Lucen didn’t fire.

Just nodded.

Focus sharp. Response tight. Every part of him synced with the system like it had stopped waiting for his permission.

He drew [Frost Spire] in a low arc next.

Vertical trajectory. No ice trail needed, just the base line to test flow. It spun perfectly on the return stroke.

He didn’t smile.

He just blinked, filed the feeling away, and raised his other hand.

[Crater Bloom]. Heavy burst. He only drafted the glyph, didn’t finish it.

Mana pressure still jumped.

’That’s six.’

He hesitated. One more.

[Cataclysm Vector].

He didn’t trace it all the way. Just let the core line hover, pulsing faint in the air like a held breath.

His heart ticked slower.

Not fatigue. Sync.

The system wasn’t a tool anymore. It was stitched into him.

Lucen stepped back.

All seven spells, locked. Fast. Clean. Efficient.

No open slots.

No gaps.

He sat down.

Quiet.

Then reached for chalk and started sketching again. This one wasn’t a spell. Not yet.

Just a test.

A what-if.

’If I want more room, I’ll have to rewrite the rules.’

He didn’t say it aloud. Didn’t label the lines.

Just kept drawing.

And waited.

—

Lucen shut the system window.

Stood up.

Crossed to the corner unit by the wall, a cheap flat-screen wedged between the mana converter box and a chipped lamp that hadn’t worked in months.

He tapped the side.

The screen buzzed, then blinked on.

Volume: 12. Brightness: Low.

He sank to the mattress. Back against the wall. One knee drawn, arms resting.

The news feed auto-looped through the city channels.

Kyrel Guild Report. Mid-tier.

A sharp-jawed anchor talked fast over footage of a collapsed drift gate near Eastblock.

Lucen watched without blinking.

The screen showed two guild officers in white jackets kneeling beside a scorched body.

Overexposure to core fallout. Signature traces unknown.

Lucen muttered, "They’ll say ’training accident’ before they say underqualified."

Next segment. Ranking updates.

Three B-Ranks promoted to A. One S-Rank shifting to Westbridge for "cross-border ops."

Lucen stared at the man’s photo.

Polished uniform. Cold eyes. Gold trim on the collar. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

The anchor called him "Sector-Class Cleaver."

Lucen said, "Cool title."

He clicked volume up once.

Behind the anchor, grainy footage played of a small squad fighting what looked like a corrupted golem. One caster used a triple-sigil strike.

Lucen tilted his head.

"Sloppy channel control. Probably eats through twice the mana for half the output."

The news shifted again.

Public awards for guild-sponsored shelter projects.

A group of kids in branded jackets handed out food boxes. One smiled too wide.

Lucen’s brow didn’t move.

He watched.

Not because he cared.

Because sometimes the news told you who was lying.

And sometimes it told you who got to keep doing it.

The footage cut to static. Then ads.

He muted the screen.

Leaning back, he let his head rest against the wall. Just enough weight to keep still.

The room was quiet again.

Not silent.

Just still.

His hand twitched once like it wanted to draw a sigil into the blanket.

He didn’t stop it.

But he didn’t move either.

Just let his eyes close.

For now.

—

The knock was sharp.

Three taps. Not fast. Not polite either.

Lucen opened one eye.

Didn’t move for a second.

The screen was still muted. The anchor’s face frozen mid-sentence, hand halfway to a graphic.

Lucen stood.

No sound. No shoes.

He stepped to the door and looked through the peephole.

Gen.

Lucen sighed. Unlocked the latch.

The door opened halfway.

Gen raised an eyebrow. "You look like you slept five minutes and dreamed about tax law."

Lucen didn’t answer.

Just stepped aside.

Gen walked in.

Boots quiet on the floor. Hands in coat pockets. Didn’t look around like it was his first time.

Lucen shut the door.

No greetings. No banter.

Gen looked at the TV. Saw the feed.

"Guild fluff?"

"Always."

Lucen crossed back to the wall. Sat.

Gen didn’t sit.

Just stayed standing near the mana converter. One boot rested on the side of the desk.

He nodded toward the muted screen.

"They’re pushing Eastbridge again. Want the A-ranks to look like saints."

Lucen leaned his head back. "Means someone’s hiding a failed drift run."

Gen gave a low hum.

Pulled a folded envelope from his coat and dropped it on the desk.

Lucen didn’t reach for it.

"What’s this?"

"Bonus," Gen said. "From last run. And because I don’t like debts."

Lucen frowned. "You keep saying that like I’m expensive."

"You are."

Lucen raised an eyebrow. "You usually pay people to join drifts before or after you nearly get them killed?"

"Only the useful ones."

Lucen picked up the envelope.

It was thicker than last time. Heavy. Sealed.

He flipped it once in his hand. Didn’t open it.

"Why are you really here?"

Gen looked at him.

Didn’t blink.

"Because you haven’t asked for anything yet. And that means you’re thinking."

Lucen smiled. Flat. No humor.

"That’s a dangerous assumption."

Gen took a slow breath. "You’re not normal, Lucen. But you already know that."

Lucen’s fingers tapped the envelope once. "Everyone’s got tricks."

"Not like this."

They stared at each other.

No challenge.

Just the edge of two people who knew the other didn’t trust easily.

Lucen said, "I’m not joining a guild."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yet."

Gen stepped back. Head tilted. One foot toward the door.

Then stopped.

"You’re going to get offers."

"I’ll ignore them."

"You won’t be able to. Not forever."

Lucen stood.

Envelope still in hand.

"Then I’ll make better lies."

Gen didn’t smile. But his eyes flicked once, like he might have.

"I’m not your enemy, Lucen."

Lucen didn’t say anything.

Gen turned and left.

Didn’t close the door hard. Just enough to say he’d been there.

Lucen stood still.

Envelope in one hand.

Muted screen flickering in the other.

He dropped the envelope on the desk.

Didn’t open it.

Not yet.

Just stared at it for a long second.

Then turned the screen off.

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