The day after Alice healed Andrew's mother was quiet. It wasn't the kind of quiet that followed grief or tension. No, this was the kind of quiet that gently followed a storm—one filled with both hope and uncertainty. Lucid stood on the balcony outside their room, arms resting on the wooden railing, watching the thin mist curl around the floating sector like wisps of thought. The memory of Andrew sobbing happily, still echoed in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time someone trusted him enough to break like that in front of him.
The morning breeze tugged at his long black coat, whispering a reminder: the peace wouldn't last.
He turned slightly as Alice came out from the room behind him, her pale green hair still a bit messy from sleep.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.
She nodded. "I had a dream that I was flying."
Lucid gave a small smile. "Is that so? Maybe one day you will."
After breakfast, Lucid decided it was time to look for the researchers. They were the ones who had welcomed him and Alice when they arrived in Andorrea. Something had always felt off about their kindness, not in a malicious way, but in how measured it had been. He needed clarity.
He left Alice in Andrew's care. She was reluctant, clinging to his sleeve at first, but when Andrew offered to teach her a new magic trick, she lit up and waved him off.
The building where Lucid first met the researchers, a tower tucked into the quieter side of Andorrea, still stood with its ivy-covered walls and humming wards. As he approached, the man from before, an older scholar with wiry hair, blinked in surprise.
"Oh! You're back. We weren't sure if you'd survived."
Lucid raised a brow. "I tend to do that. Survive."
He was led inside, the warm scent of old parchment and strange spices filling the air. Sitting at a long table littered with scrolls and artifacts was Neylea. The researcher with sharp amber eyes and a sharp mind to match.
She looked up, her curiosity igniting the moment she saw him. "Well, well, the ghost returns. And without chains, I see."
Lucid sat across from her. "You're well-informed." having no idea what she had meant by that.
"I make it my business to be."
He studied her. There was something familiar in her expression—a refined coldness, a mirage of detachment. It reminded him of Shion.
"What do you want to know, Lucid?" Neylea asked.
"Why did the village send us after Yu Sakamoto with so little to work with? No funding, no route, no idea where she was."
Neylea leaned back and tapped a finger against the table. "Because they didn't want her back."
Lucid remained silent, letting her continue.
Yu was supposed to inherit the seat of the sister village of Arayune. But tradition demanded a male heir. She was... not. So they spun tales. Said she betrayed them. Said she endangered the world. But truthfully? They feared her."
"Did they fear her for wanting revenge?"
"No.. they feared her resolve and her reluctance to accept tradition. She challenged it and she built her own network, helped commoners, defied the archmages and nobles. In a world like ours, that was reason enough for exile."
Lucid nodded slowly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "You seem to know a lot about her."
Neylea didn't hesitate. "More than most."
That answer—too smooth, almost way too practiced. Then he had caught it. A hint in her expression. The slight delay before her response. A softness in her eyes that didn't match the rest of her. Her posture, her face… even the cadence of her speech. It all stirred something in him. Something oddly familiar.
Something reminds me of her.
His gaze lingered a second longer, narrowing in quiet calculation. Neylea, who had been watching him casually, now tilted her head slightly—her eyes narrowing in return, as if sensing his shift in energy.
"Hm?" she asked, her tone light, but her stare sharper now.
Lucid decided not to dance around it. He said it plainly.
"Are you… related to someone named Shion?"
The question hung in the air like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.
He watched closely—searching for a crack, a twitch, any sign. She didn't flinch. Instead, Neylea stared at him with a strangely calm expression. Relaxed. But not dismissive.
He was testing something—because something didn't sit right. The way she knew so much about Yu. The way she'd echoed Shion's words about "tradition" as if quoting it from memory didn't sit right with him. The fact that she was working with the village, the same village that had been hunting Yu. And yet here she was, alone with him, speaking highly of yu, almost like she doesn't want to catch Yu.
What is her status in that village? And more importantly, what is her angle?
'If she doesn't know Yu completely… then there's a good chance she doesn't know that name either.' he thought quietly in his mind.
But Neylea didn't answer right away. She simply looked at him, letting the question settle between them like dust in silence.
Finally, she said, with a faint measured smile."You're perceptive, keep that to yourself."
Lucid gave a slight nod. Just enough to acknowledge, not enough to confirm anything.
"Does she know you're here?" he asked quietly.
"No," Neylea replied, her tone clipped. "And let's keep it that way."
A brief silence fell between them.
Lucid was about to speak again when Neylea continued, her voice gentler now, laced with something sincere.
"You've got questions—I can see them through your mask. But I won't be the one to answer them. Not yet." She paused, then added, "Shion needs to find her own answers first."
Lucid turned slightly, hearing the shift in her voice. Neylea was no longer standing in front of him—she had stepped behind him, speaking not as a spy or a stranger, but as someone who had once cared deeply.
"Help her, Lucid," she said quietly. "Not because you owe her anything. But because I think you understand what it means to be lost."
She let those words hang before adding, softer still:
"If you want answers… help her find her path."
She didn't wait for his reply.
"With that being said, You didn't hear this from me, but the nobles have been meeting privately. They plan to declare martial law. They want control after that incident in Sector 8 concerning the death of two nobles."
Lucid didn't respond at first.
"Will you run?" she asked.
He looked over his shoulder. "No. I have someone to protect, no people to protect too."
Her gaze softened. For the first time, she truly saw him not as an anomaly, or a variable, but as a person. Not quite a hero nor a threat. But more like someone whom she could trust.
She nodded. "Then be careful. Because whatever's coming... it's bigger than any of us."
Lucid left the tower soon after, walking through the winding alleys of Andorrea as the mist began to clear. He thought of Alice. Of Yu or rather Shion. Of Andrew. And lastly Neylea.
And for the first time, he realized he had a place in this world's storm.
He wouldn't run from it.
He would meet it head-on this time not just for alice but for the family he had saved, for shion oddly and lastly Andrew and his mother.
Lucid had been walking for a while, hopping between sectors, when he finally discovered that Sector 5 was the highest he could reach. This realization came after an interaction with a guard, who demanded proof of noble status before allowing him to go any further.
His thoughts were a tangled mess, when he found himself outside a building. A large, imposing structure at the heart of Sector 5. There was a symbole near the door, one he recognized from earlier the same symbole the guards wore.
It was also the same place where the nobles and archmages held their private meetings that neylea have told Lucud about.
Lucid knew of the archmages but had never encountered one in person. His curiosity led him here, though he wasn't sure what to expect. As he stood outside the building, a chill ran through him, his instincts telling him that something big was about to happen.
The door opened slowly, and Lucid's heart skipped a beat. The man who stepped out was tall, his features sharp, and he was wearing a regal cloak with a blue crest, and medium short silver hair. Lucid recognized him or at least what he was.
'An archmage'
The archmage themenos was the one who had been investigating the aftermath of the nobles' deaths—seeking justice, perhaps. However Lucid didn't know Themenos or let alone the fact that he was on to him or what he was after, he felt a sudden wave of apprehension. This man seemed like someone who would do whatever it took to uphold the so-called "justice" of Andorrea.
Themenos stopped in his tracks when he saw Lucid, his expression cold and calculating. The wind shifted, and the cape behind him fluttered, adding to the imposing nature of his presence.
"You."
Themenos' voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. "I've been hearing whispers about you."
Lucid didn't flinch. He was used to being watched, used to being a part of a bigger picture. He stood tall and unblinking, his eyes meeting Themenos' with the same intensity.
"I don't believe we've met," Lucid said, keeping his voice even.
Themenos studied him for a moment, his gaze cold, calculating.
"No, we haven't," Themenos said finally.
"But I've heard about you, An outlander in a glass-mask. You've been... quite the observer, haven't you?"
"Enjoying your Stay?"
Lucid didn't respond. There was no need to explain anything to the likes of him.
"I was hoping I could avoid crossing paths with you," Themenos continued, stepping closer. "But it seems we're on a collision course. You and I." His eyes flashed with something dangerous. "I intend to seek justice for those who have fallen. And I won't allow anyone to stand in my way."
Lucid didn't move, not a single muscle twitching. His mind raced as he assessed the situation. Themenos was obsessed with justice—but what did that mean? Was he simply enforcing the will of the nobles, or was there something more sinister beneath his words. Could he have caught on to Lucid's actions?
"Alright... i hope you find what you are after." Lucid said, his voice steady.
Themenos smirked. "That's much too kind But i have already found it. It's too soon though, I would much rather wait and enjoy it later." He turned to leave, but before he did, he glanced over his shoulder.
"You'll be seeing more of me, Lucid. And next time, I won't be as patient."
Lucid watched him walk away, his thoughts swirling in confusion. He had only scratched the surface of what was going on in Andorrea. And now, Themenos, a figure of "justice," had set his sights on him. Lucid didn't know what would happen next, but one thing was certain—he couldn't keep running. The time to make his move was approaching.
He would have to face whatever was coming, no matter how dark it seemed.