The morning light streamed through the inn window, cutting across Lucian's face.
His body ached, a dull soreness settling into his muscles from the previous night's battle. He sat up slowly, rolling his shoulder. The power he had taken still felt foreign, like wearing armor that didn't quite fit.
A knock at the door.
Elara's voice filtered through. "You alive in there?"
Lucian exhaled. "Unfortunately."
The door creaked open, and Elara peered in with a smirk. "Then get up. We're going out."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
Elara leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You're new here. Consider it a tour."
Lucian sighed, standing up. He wasn't in the mood for sightseeing. But still… something about the idea didn't sound awful.
---
The city was alive in a way the battlefield never was.
Merchant stalls lined the streets, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread, roasted meat, and exotic spices. Children darted through alleyways, laughing as they played. Blacksmiths worked at their forges, the rhythmic clang of metal ringing through the district.
Elara led the way, her movements easy, comfortable in a way Lucian rarely felt.
He didn't realize how much time he spent **watching, calculating, expecting a threat—**until now.
For once, he let himself just… see.
Elara glanced at him. "You're enjoying this."
Lucian scoffed. "It's tolerable."
She grinned. "Sure it is."
---
They stopped by a magic shop, its walls lined with enchanted artifacts—rings, potions, and weapons infused with arcane energy.
Lucian watched as Elara ran her fingers over the handle of a staff similar to her own.
He frowned. "You don't use a grimoire."
Elara didn't look at him. "Nope."
Lucian studied her. Every strong adventurer he had met relied on their grimoire, their unique connection to magic. But she… she fought differently.
"Why?"
Elara tapped the staff once, activating a small burst of light at its tip. "Because grimoires are dangerous."
Lucian raised an eyebrow.
Elara finally turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Power like that… changes people."
For a moment, Lucian swore she was looking through him rather than at him.
Then, just as quickly, her playful grin returned. "Besides, magical tools are more fun."
Lucian didn't press further. But something about her answer felt incomplete.
---
By the time they reached the city square, the sun had begun to dip lower in the sky, bathing the streets in orange light.
Lucian exhaled, stretching his arms. The soreness in his muscles had faded.
Elara nudged him. "See? A little fresh air won't kill you."
Lucian shook his head. "You talk too much."
Elara smirked. "And you're too gloomy. Balance."
For the first time in a long time, Lucian felt… relaxed.
Then—
The ground shook.
The casual chatter around them turned into panicked screams.
Lucian's hand went to his weapon on instinct as the first explosion tore through the outer wall.
A plume of smoke rose in the distance.
The city was under attack.