The plaza seemed to vibrate with anticipation, though no wind stirred. Lucien's pale gaze swept across the three figures before him — each poised, each arrogant, each radiating confidence that demanded attention. Yet the moment their attacks collided with his shadows, a subtle shift occurred: the aura of dominance had already begun to favor him.
The twin-bladed figure lunged again, spinning in a deadly arc meant to overwhelm. Lucien stepped lightly, almost lazily, to the side. His shadows extended silently, curling around the incoming blades. The edges of steel met darkness, sparks of energy flaring, yet the weapons did not reach him. Instead, they were redirected subtly, deflected back in arcs calculated to test his opponent.
"Interesting," Lucien murmured, voice soft yet carrying an unmistakable weight. "Your speed… precise. Predictable. Aggression is your strength, but it blinds you."
The twin-bladed fighter paused, blinking once, a faint flicker of doubt crossing his eyes — the first sign that Lucien's presence was more than intimidating.
The crimson-caped man danced backward, twirling in impossible arcs, cape flowing dramatically despite no wind. He launched a volley of shadow-infused strikes, theatrics intended to overwhelm both spectators and opponent alike. Lucien tilted his head slightly, shadows contracting, then expanding. One movement — a subtle ripple — and every strike met resistance, neutralized not with brute force, but precision and prediction.
"You move like one who has survived everything," the crimson-caped man admitted with a smirk, voice carrying a mixture of irritation and amusement. "But let's see… can you anticipate this?"
A sudden flash: the metallic-gauntleted fighter slammed his gauntlets into the ground, sending a pulse that cracked stone and twisted the air. Lucien leapt with effortless grace, his cloak flowing unnaturally behind him. Shadows expanded, coiling around the shockwave, dampening its force just enough to land silently on a raised slab, observing, calculating.
Step by step, Lucien began to dismantle them. Not with overwhelming strength, not with arrogance, but by testing, probing, and exposing weaknesses they had not yet revealed. He let the twin-blades strike once more, then twice, each time subtly redirecting, each time learning. The crimson-caped man's attacks met precise counters that appeared effortless, while the gauntleted fighter's shockwaves were neutralized at the very edge of their reach.
And still, Lucien did not strike to kill. Every movement, every shift of shadow and cloak, was a measure, a test. He wanted to see what they could do — how far their arrogance and raw power could take them before cracks appeared.
The crowd watched from the edges, frozen, whispers floating through the plaza. Who is this pale man? How can he move like that, countering impossible attacks with such calm?
Even as Lucien tested them, he noted subtle patterns:
The twin-bladed fighter overcommitted on aggression, leaving openings behind each strike. The crimson-caped man relied on style to mask gaps in timing. The metallic-gauntleted fighter's reliance on shockwaves left him vulnerable in rapid, close exchanges.
With careful precision, Lucien exploited these patterns, forcing them into positions where their confidence faltered. A flick of shadow here, a shift in stance there — and suddenly the battlefield was a dance where he led, and they followed.
"Not bad," Lucien murmured, pale eyes calm. "But arrogance alone cannot win. Strength must be tempered with understanding."
The three paused, panting lightly, glances flicking between each other. It was the first time in this confrontation that doubt crept into their synchronized arrogance. The first subtle recognition: the Sole Exception was more than a story.
Lucien straightened, cloak rippling unnaturally around him, shadows coiling like serpents at his feet. "We are not done," he said simply. "But now I understand what you are capable of. Perhaps we can skip the pretense of spectacle next time."
The crimson-caped man tilted his head, smirk returning. "Impressive… pale one. Very impressive. Perhaps this will be fun after all."
Lucien's pale eyes narrowed slightly. Fun… he thought. Yes. Perhaps this is only the beginning.
The plaza was quiet again, the echoes of combat fading, yet the air remained thick with tension. Not a single observer moved, not a single merchant dared speak, and somewhere in the distant shadows, other eyes stirred — sensing power, arrogance, and a presence beyond comprehension.
For the first time in the era, the world's stage had truly been set, and the Sole Exception had begun to measure those who might one day challenge him.