Chapter 95
The morning sun filtered through the trees surrounding Lucas's training ground, a secluded clearing a few kilometers from the capital.
The area bore the scars of recent use cracked earth, splintered stumps, and the occasional crater where spells had detonated during practice.
Lucas moved through a series of forms, his katana a silver blur in the early light. But it wasn't the sword that made the training remarkable—it was the weights.
Heavy plates of enchanted metal strapped to his wrists, ankles, and torso, each one inscribed with runes that multiplied their effective mass. The total weight pressing down on his body exceeded five thousand kilograms.
Yet he moved through the forms as if unburdened, each strike precise, each transition fluid.
Faster, he thought. Stronger, The Third Pathway high stage is close but not close enough.
He completed the sequence and shifted to unarmed combat—punches, kicks, knees, elbows. The air itself seemed to resist his movements, compressed by the sheer force of his strikes. When his fist connected with a practice dummy reinforced with steel, the dummy didn't just crack—it exploded, sending fragments across the clearing.
Lucas paused, breathing evenly despite the exertion. His mind wasn't on the training, though. It was on the night before.
Austin.
The fight had been different from their first encounter. Austin's speed had increased—not dramatically, but noticeably. His technique was sharper, his spell combinations more fluid. He was learning, adapting, pushing himself in ways he hadn't before.
He'll break through to Silver before the mission, Lucas realized. If he focuses, if he pushes hard enough. Two days might be enough.
The thought brought a rare smile to his face. Austin's growth wasn't a threat—it was proof that Lucas's presence in this world was changing things. The novel's timeline, the predetermined outcomes—they were fracturing.
Good.
He removed the weights one by one, setting them in a neat pile. Without their burden, his body felt impossibly light, as if he might float away. He ignored the sensation and sat cross-legged on a flat stone, closing his eyes.
The mission loomed. Two days until they faced the demonic beast and the generals who waited for it. Physical preparation was one thing—but there was another frontier he needed to explore.
Mana flow.
He reached inward, finding the familiar landscape of his internal energy. But now he looked deeper, past the quantity and quality of his mana, past the pathways it traveled. He looked at the movement itself—the speed, the efficiency, the resistance.
In the novel, the Abyssal Moon Leader's spells were instantaneous. No chanting, no hand signs—just will made manifest. Lucas had always assumed that was simply a function of reaching the highest stages of cultivation. But now he wondered.
What if it's not about the stage? What if it's about the flow?
He focused on a simple spell—Searing Lance. In battle, it took him perhaps a second to form and release. Fast by any measure, but not instantaneous. He examined the process: mana gathering from his core, traveling through meridians, coalescing at his palm, then shaping into the spell's final form.
Each step took time. Microseconds, but they added up.
What if there was no travel? What if the mana simply... appeared where it was needed?
The concept was radical. Mana came from the core—that was fundamental law.
He began experimenting, directing his will not at gathering mana, but at being the spell. Not shaping energy, but becoming the shape itself.
Minutes passed, Then an hour, The sun climbed higher, warming his face, but he didn't notice.
Faint progress. Barely perceptible. But something shifted—a sense that the distance between thought and manifestation could shrink, given time and practice.
He would need more time. More practice. But at least now he had a direction.
"The way you move is fascinating."
Lucas's eyes opened. He didn't startle—he'd sensed Ethan's presence five minutes ago, waiting at the edge of the clearing.
Ethan stepped out from the treeline, his casual clothes a stark contrast to the formal Black Ops leader they knew. He walked toward Lucas with the easy grace of someone completely comfortable in his own skin.
"Watching people train without announcing yourself," Lucas said mildly. "Is that a leader thing?"
"It's an Ethan thing." He stopped a few meters away, looking around at the destruction. "You two really went at it last night. I felt the shockwaves from the city walls."
Lucas said nothing.
"I've seen a lot of fights," Ethan continued. "Trained with some of the best—Logan, Arthur before he became king. Watched Moon Class elites tear each other apart in the war." He shook his head slowly. "What you and Austin did last night... that was something else. The speed, the power, the technique. For sixteen-year-olds, it's insane."
"We train hard."
"That's not training." Ethan met his eyes. "That's something else. You're pushing each other to break limits, not just reach them." He paused. "Austin's going to be a monster in a few years. But you..." He trailed off, searching for words. "You already are."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Coming from a soon to be Moon Class elite, that's quite a compliment."
"It's not a compliment. It's an observation." Ethan sat on a nearby rock, making himself comfortable. "Your mana control, for instance. I've never seen anything like it. Most people, when they cast spells, there's a moment of... leakage. Mana bleeding out, wasted energy. It's inevitable—the body can't contain power perfectly." He gestured at Lucas. "You don't leak, At all. Every drop of mana you use goes exactly where you intend, nothing wasted."
"And you noticed this from watching?"
"From watching, from sensing, from basic observation." Ethan shrugged. "It's not subtle, Lucas. It's like watching water flow uphill—it shouldn't happen, but there it is."
Lucas considered his response. "My clan had certain... advantages. Mana control was our legacy."
"Your dead clan, you mean." Ethan's voice was gentle but direct. "The one that supposedly all died from some bloodline disease."
"That's the one."
Ethan studied him for a long moment. "You know, for someone whose entire clan died, you don't seem particularly broken by it."
Lucas met his gaze steadily. "Who says I'm not?"
The answer seemed to satisfy Ethan. He nodded slowly, then changed tack. "Your element control, by the way—it's terrible."
Lucas blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You have none. You don't use element spells at all." Ethan grinned. "I've been watching, and you stick entirely to mana spells. No elemental affinity whatsoever."
"I have mana. That's enough."
"For now." Ethan leaned back. "But if we ever fought, that would be your weakness. I could use wind to disrupt your positioning, control the battlefield, limit your options. You'd have to work twice as hard just to keep up."
Lucas allowed a small smile. "You think you'd win?"
"I think my chances would be good." Ethan's grin widened. "Not certain, but good."
Lucas said nothing, but his smile carried its own message. He knew something Ethan didn't—that his mana control had reached levels that made elemental affinities almost irrelevant. In a real fight, Ethan would discover that his wind was just another force for Lucas to redirect, dissolve, or simply ignore.
But he didn't say that. Let Ethan believe what he wanted.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the forest sounds filling the space between them. Birds called, insects hummed, the distant murmur of the city providing a constant backdrop.
"I used to train like this," Ethan said eventually. "Before the war. Logan would drag me out to some clearing and we'd fight until I couldn't stand. Arthur would join sometimes, back when he was still just the prince, not the king." He chuckled at the memory. "Arthur always cheated. Used light to blind us at critical moments. Said it wasn't cheating, it was strategy."
"You trained with the Sky King?"
"Before he was the Sky King. Before a lot of things." Ethan's expression grew distant. "Logan took me in when I was a kid. Slave, orphan, survivor—I was all of those. He saw something in me, I guess. Trained me, taught me, made me into someone who could fight."
Lucas listened, remembering what he knew of Ethan's story from the novel.
"What was he like? Logan?"
Ethan's eyes softened. "Patient, Brutal when he needed to be. He never let me quit, never let me settle for 'good enough.' But he also..." He paused. "He also made sure I knew I was more than just a weapon. That I had value beyond what I could kill."
Ethan looked at Lucas. "You remind me of him, a little. Not in skill—you've got your own thing going. But in the way you carry yourself. Like you've already seen too much, lost too much, and you're just... moving forward anyway."
Lucas didn't respond to that. After a moment, Ethan continued.
"When we came back from the portal mission, I was expecting you to still be recovering. That demon general's illusion—Logan told me about those spells. They're designed to break people. To trap them in nightmares until they lose themselves entirely." He shook his head. "But you were fine. Better than fine—you'd actually broken through to Silver while we were gone."
"It wasn't intentional."
"Wasn't it?" Ethan's gaze was knowing. "Everything about you seems intentional, Lucas. Even when you're not trying." He paused. "It's impressive. And a little terrifying, if I'm being honest."
Lucas considered his next words carefully. Ethan was opening up, sharing pieces of himself. That trust could be useful—but more than that, it felt genuine. Worth reciprocating.
"I have a proposal," Lucas said. "Something that might help with the mission."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"The demon generals are waiting for the sealing. They'll attack when it happens—that's almost certain. But they don't know our exact timing, our exact positions." Lucas met his eyes. "What if we gave them false information?"
"How?"
"Two groups. One leaves a day early—me and the Queen. We travel to the seal location ahead of schedule. But we leave behind..." He paused, choosing words carefully. "Representations."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Representations."
"The Queen's lightning element. Lightning clones are nearly indistinguishable from the original—the energy signature, the presence, everything matches. And I can create mana clones." Lucas spoke calmly, laying out the plan. "The day before the real sealing, we send the clones with the rest of you toward the location. The generals sense the Queen's presence, sense my presence, and assume the ritual is starting early. They commit their forces."
"While the real you and the real Queen are already there, waiting."
"Exactly. They attack the decoy, waste their strength and positioning. By the time they realize the deception, the real sealing is either complete or close to it." Lucas shrugged. "It's not perfect—there are risks. But it might give us an edge."
Ethan was quiet for a long moment, processing. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
"That's insane," he said.
"I know."
"That's also brilliant." He stood, pacing a few steps. "The generals have been watching us, waiting for their moment. They think they know our schedule, our plan. A deception like this..." He turned back to Lucas. "It could work."
"The rest of you would need to be convincing. Act like the Queen is really there, like I'm really there. Fight if you have to, but retreat before taking serious damage. The goal isn't to win—it's to sell the lie."
"And you and the Queen perform the actual sealing while they're distracted."
Lucas nodded.
Ethan stared at him for a long moment. "You've been thinking about this since we got back, haven't you?"
"Since the demon generals didn't stop you at the portal. Since they made it clear they're waiting for something." Lucas met his gaze. "They're playing a game. We should play one too."
Another long pause. Then Ethan laughed—a genuine, surprised sound.
He extended his hand. "Alright. We do it your way. You and the Queen leave a day early. The rest of us play decoy with your clones."
Lucas took his hand. "I'll need time to prepare the clones. And the Queen will need to agree."
"She will. She wants this mission to succeed more than anyone." Ethan squeezed once, then released. "One day, Make it happen."