She exhaled deeply, casting a glance toward the far wall, where a faint mana lamp burned low. "Sia and Sara took turns staying right here, on this very stair, refusing to leave you. They constantly poured their own mana into you, like it were the only thing tethering you to life. Honestly, I think it was. If either of them had blinked too long, or faltered even slightly…" She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
Three weeks ago, huh?
Lucius blinked slowly, quietly digesting the weight of time lost. That accursed realm where Zero Dawn resided—what felt like moments, hours at best—had consumed nearly a month. And in the real world, while he slept like a dead weight, others had bled and burned themselves just to keep his heart beating.
He didn't feel grateful. Not in that moment. He felt... ashamed. Heavy.
"Give me an assessment of my condition," Lucius said at last, voice sharp and clipped with formality, the soldier in him defaulting as if to keep the grief at bay.
Adrianna's expression shifted slightly, softening as she folded her hands across her lap. "Loss of your right eye and right arm," she began, voice professional. "Fractures across the spinal region. Multiple organ failures—poisoning and internal trauma from prolonged exposure to corrosive mana. Severe cranial impact. Multiple bones were shattered, almost all broken. Your legs were... they were tangled in a way I've only seen in the aftermath of battlefield spellfire. And the blood loss…" She trailed for a breath, gathering composure.
Then came the hardest part. "The worst amongst them? Your mana core, Lucius. It's not just fractured. It's been shattered in areas, strained past capacity. Its structure is compromised—permanently. That means your mana flow, resonance, and regeneration will likely never return to pre-mission levels. Your capabilities have been... limited-"
"Thank you," Lucius cut in. "But I think that's enough."
Adrianna stopped immediately. She knew that tone: the kind that signalled not anger, but exhaustion. Emotional collapse hidden beneath a tight-lipped attempt at composure. Lucius had already known, it seemed. At least some of it. Hearing it aloud only made it worse.
She looked at him for a moment, not speaking, not even blinking—just observing. Then, slowly, she said, "One more thing." Adrianna spoke regardless of what Lucius meant. "Actually, two more things," she corrected as she stood up and bent forward, allowing her only arm to reach towards Lucius's head, grabbing his long, messy hair and pulling them gently forward, towards the viewpoint of his single eye.
"See for yourself," she continued, as she displayed the tips of his hair, which were still the same jet-black… until she carefully pulled the rest of their length, which slowly widened Lucius's eye. Except for the tip of his hair end, his entire hair length had gone pale… white. Too white. Even whiter than Snowhite, sharing an impossible similarity... To that dragon lord of his which Lucius barely understood what such similarity meant.
'Does the soul pact alter appearance or facial features as well?' he asked himself.
The wielders of mana, the sentient beings, are notorious for having different colours of hair, eyes, and skin tone. Although skin tones are much more relatable and familiar across different regions, the same cannot be said for the colours of eyes and hair. For example, Sia has crimson-coloured hair and eyes because she was born and raised in the eastern-central regions, the divine city of Sialcore—an ancient, volcanically active city rich in atmospheric fire mana. The prolonged presence of crimson mana in the region had slowly altered its residents' facial features for generations, eventually embedding itself into their genetics, bloodlines, and DNA. Similarly, Forza's greyish-silver eyes display her deep, almost unnatural connection to the winds—an affinity that is not only visible in her appearance but also reflected in her mana usage, especially in her manifestation techniques.
The mana, the genes, the bloodlines, and the elemental affinities that mages inherit often bestow distinct colours—some never before seen within a lineage. These changes can occur at birth or gradually develop over time, as the individual matures and their elemental connection deepens. Strengthening their core, unlocking techniques, and increasing their mana resonance can all lead to gradual shifts in appearance. This phenomenon is rare on the empire's scale, yet relatively common among children of high-ranking nobles, royal descendants, and especially the imperial family of Verdun—those blessed with ancient bloodlines, divine blessings, or deeply attuned elemental inheritances.
However, these traits do not apply to someone like Lucius. A non-mage. An unnatural anomaly. An outlier.
Although Lucius and those around him had gradually noticed subtle changes in his appearance—his hair slowly whitening, his eyes growing darker in tone—it all still felt within the realm of normal. Nothing alarming. Nothing that demanded explanation. It was still him. He still looked like the same boy who had woken up in that cursed region a decade ago.
But now, thanks to Adrianna's uncalled-for assistance, he could no longer ignore it. Only the tips of his hair—barely a few inches—retained the same jet-black shade he had always known. The rest? Gone. White. Bleached. Stripped of all colour.
The rest of his hair length and hairline were now completely pale—white, brighter than snow, whiter than white, almost glowing under the light. It wasn't a subtle shift—it was unmistakable. A transformation, and it bore a disturbing resemblance to none other than the Lord of the Dragons—Emperor Zero Dawn.
Multiple questions erupted inside Lucius's consciousness. He knew a thing or two about blood pacts, thanks to Sia, since she had once been bound by a blood pact/oath during her deployment around Andromeda Skydagger when the 'Champion of Verdun' was a small little girl, as she had vaguely mentioned in passing. But a Soul Pact? Or Soul Oath? He had no clue. Not a single reliable point of reference. And that made him blind—blind to the warning signs, blind to the subtle changes happening to his body and mind, changes that seemed minor on the surface but could become catastrophic overnight. Changes that could unfold faster than he could adapt to. And the worst part? He had no clue how to handle or even begin to approach any of it.
As he sank deeper into his thoughts, attempting to piece together the implications of his choices and their aftermath, he recalled something else—Adrianna had mentioned a second thing. Another detail she had clearly stated earlier.
"What's the other thing?" he asked, after careful consideration, his head now slightly tilting to the right, allowing his eye to witness her expression as she resumed her seat. But before she could answer, Lucius noticed something else—something that made him pause.
Adrianna looked exhausted. Not just tired from a long shift or drained from using too much mana. This was something more. A deep, sustained fatigue was written across her face and posture. Her shoulders were slightly slumped, her breathing just a little too slow and deliberate. For someone like Adrianna—a top-ranked healer with a fearsome reputation and iron discipline—this degree of visible exhaustion was rare. Unsettling, even. Her responsibilities were immense, no doubt. High-value patients, emergency treatments, constant magical strain. But for it to show like this? That meant something had pushed her far beyond the usual threshold.
Lucius considered asking whether this was his fault. Whether her current condition, her burnout, was a result of his state—of the days and weeks she had spent tending to his broken body and fractured mana core, but he held it in, the urge, for the moment, though he will inquire it later, he instructed himself.
"I can tell you," she replied, "perhaps even show you… But I personally think you should see for yourself—once you're capable of standing... and moving around." Her voice was exhaustingly calm, but there was something buried underneath. She raised her hand and pointed toward a tall mirror on the right side of the room, positioned just a few steps away from his bed.
Lucius followed her finger. Sure enough, there it was. A tall, ornate mirror stood at attention near the corner of the room, oddly elegant for a hospital ward. A mirror inside a patient's quarters? That was unusual. Lucius mentally flagged it as suspicious, if not outright deliberate.
"...Are you mocking me?" Lucius asked, tone cool but edged with mild offence, "Or do you genuinely believe I lack the bare minimum strength a human possesses to simply stand and walk?" His tone wasn't hostile—just dry, laced with enough sarcasm to hint at his annoyance but still rooted in respect. He wasn't attacking her judgment. He just wanted to know whether her challenge was serious or laced with pity.
But Adrianna didn't answer. Instead, she moved quietly. She removed the sheets covering him—carefully, precisely—and folded them at the foot of the bed. Then she simply gestured toward the floor, inviting him to prove his point. Her expression? Neutral but vaguely amused. It wasn't mockery. Not quite. But there was a challenge in it. A dare.
She was giving him a chance to walk the talk—literally. Lucius understood instantly. She was telling him this wasn't something to explain with words. Whatever she wanted to reveal next, he had to see it. Process it. Feel it. Only then would the message truly land. He gave her a look—a simple glance that carried acceptance. 'Fine,' it said. 'Let's do this.' He was all in now.
Lucius braced himself, his single eye locked onto the mirror. Whatever this "second thing" was, it mattered. It wasn't casual. It was personal. And if Adrianna was going this far to show him instead of just saying it outright, then it was probably something that would change the way he saw himself… again.