CHAPTER 182: EVENTFUL DINNER

The cold air slapped them the second they stepped out. Neon lights along the street flickered, colors bending under invisible pressure. A crowd was gathering at the far end, people clustering on sidewalks, heads tilted up like moths to a flame.

And there, in the center of the intersection, two figures.

One was built like a wall of iron, a hammer slung across his shoulder, the air around him rippling with raw mana. The other was lean, silver-haired, his coat snapping in the wind, eyes alight with a dangerous thrill.

The clash between them was almost silent, the kind of violence too deep for sound. Space itself seemed to ripple where their blows met, the pavement cracking and sinking as if it wanted to crawl away.

Lucen let out a low whistle. "’S-ranks. Real ones. Been a while since I’ve seen a pissing contest this close up.’"

Varik’s eyes were locked on the fight. His jaw was set, unreadable.

The hammer came down, carving a crater into the asphalt. The silver-haired man darted sideways, faster than sight, blade flashing as it skimmed along the giant’s shoulder. Sparks burst, not from metal, but from mana colliding against mana, white fire against dark stone.

The crowd gasped, stumbled back, phones rising like a wall of tiny eyes.

Lucen smirked. "’Bet you fifty bucks hammer-boy loses first.’"

Varik didn’t answer. His hand tightened on his sword hilt.

Lucen arched a brow. "’Don’t tell me you’re about to play referee. That’s adorable.’"

"They’re going to tear the district apart."

The words were calm, but heavy. The kind of statement that wasn’t prediction, it was certainty.

Lucen’s grin widened. "’So? Free demolition.’"

Then the silver-haired hunter shifted his stance, and the mana around him flared, bright enough to sting the eyes. The pressure in the air doubled, crushing, the kind of force that made lungs stutter just trying to draw breath.

Lucen’s smirk faltered, just slightly. "’...Okay. Maybe not free.’"

Glass windows up and down the street shattered all at once, raining shards into the crowd. Screams cut through the night. People scrambled, stumbling over each other in blind panic.

Varik moved.

Not with speed, with inevitability. He stepped off the curb and into the street, his presence folding over the chaos like a second weight. He didn’t draw his blade, not yet. He didn’t need to.

The two S-ranks both froze mid-swing. The hammer stopped inches from another crater, the silver blade halting with its tip still glowing. Both hunters turned, slowly, cautiously, toward the man who had entered their ring.

The crowd went utterly still. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.

Lucen laughed under his breath. ’Gods, look at that. Two S-ranks at each other’s throats, and all it takes is one Varik to turn them into guilty schoolboys.’

Varik’s voice carried, low but cutting, a blade sliding between ribs. "Enough."

The silver-haired one’s grin didn’t fade, but it flickered, uneasy. The hammer-bearer exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for too long.

"V-Varik," the big man said, the name heavy with more respect than fear.

Varik’s gaze didn’t shift. "You want to test yourselves, find somewhere else. Not here."

The silver-haired hunter tilted his head, eyes narrowing with amusement. "You always were good at ruining fun." His voice was smooth, almost mocking, but his blade lowered all the same.

The pressure in the air ebbed, just a fraction. Enough for people to breathe again.

Lucen stepped up beside Varik, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. His grin was back, sharp and smug. "’Gotta say, you make a hell of a referee. Think I should start selling tickets?’"

Varik didn’t look at him, eyes still on the two S-ranks.

The hammer-bearer muttered something under his breath and slung the weapon back onto his shoulder, backing away. The silver-haired one lingered longer, eyes sliding to Lucen.

And for a beat, just one, something sharp flashed there. Interest. Calculation.

Lucen’s smirk didn’t waver. "’See something you like, pretty boy?’"

The silver-haired hunter chuckled low, sheathing his blade with a flick. "Maybe I do." He let the words hang, heavy with implication, before turning and vanishing into the crowd like smoke.

Lucen’s grin thinned. ’He saw too much.’

The hammer-bearer followed, grumbling, leaving cracks in the pavement and a silence in their wake.

Only then did Varik let go of his sword hilt.

The crowd erupted, chatter, panic, the scrape of shoes. But none dared come close. Not to them.

Lucen tilted his head, watching Varik. "’Well. Dinner and a show. You spoil me.’"

Varik finally looked at him. "He noticed you."

Lucen’s grin sharpened, but his eyes flickered with something darker. "’Yeah. I noticed him noticing. Bad habit, standing next to you. People start thinking I matter.’"

Varik’s gaze didn’t waver. "You do."

Lucen blinked. Then smirked wider, covering it with sharp edges. "’Careful. Say stuff like that and I might start believing you.’"

Varik turned, already walking back toward the restaurant. "Finish your food. Then we’ll talk."

Lucen laughed softly, slipping his hands deeper into his pockets as he followed. The sound of broken glass crunched beneath his boots.

’Talk, huh? Can’t wait to see what that means.’

—

The restaurant hadn’t quite recovered.

Shattered glass still glittered across the tiles by the front windows, staff whispering at the edges of the room as they tried to sweep without looking like they were eavesdropping. Most of the customers had already left, plates abandoned mid-meal, the smell of cooling food mixing with spilled wine and dust.

But Varik had sat back down. Calm, unbothered. He hadn’t touched his steak again, but the way he leaned in the booth, back against the seat, hands loose on the table, it was clear: he wasn’t moving for anyone.

Lucen had followed, sliding into his side of the booth with the same easy swagger as before, though the gleam in his eyes hadn’t dulled. His fork twirled lazily in one hand as if the chaos outside had been no more than a light show for their entertainment.

The front door opened again.

And the weight in the room changed.

Not like the oppressive mana of the fight outside, this was subtler, finer. A controlled presence, sharp and deliberate, the kind of aura that slid beneath the skin and reminded everyone they were in the company of someone untouchable.

Heads turned. Whispers rose.

She stepped in.

Tall, poised, wrapped in a long black coat that shimmered faintly like raven feathers. Her hair was a deep garnet red, tied back in a loose braid that left strands framing a face both severe and striking. She walked like someone who had never once needed to make way for anyone else, each stride cutting straight through the lingering tension in the room.

Lucen’s fork paused mid-spin. His grin pulled wider. ’Well, look at that. Dinner really does come with a show.’

The name rippled through the hushed voices of the few patrons left.

"Selindra..."

Varik’s head lifted, eyes narrowing slightly.

She saw him instantly. A flicker of recognition, sharp and amused, before she crossed the floor without hesitation. Not toward the staff. Not toward the broken glass. Straight toward their booth.

Lucen leaned back, his smirk lazy, watching her approach with interest. ’SS-rank Selindra. One of the famous names. And walking right up to us. Oh, this’ll be good.’

"Varik," she said as she stopped at their table, voice low and smooth, carrying easily over the silence of the room.

"Selindra," Varik answered. His tone didn’t change, but there was a shift, just enough weight in the name to suggest familiarity.

She glanced down at him, then at the empty side of the booth where Lucen sat. Her eyes lingered. Assessing.

"And here I thought you preferred to eat alone."

Varik didn’t move. "Circumstances changed."

Selindra tilted her head, lips curving faintly. "That would explain the company." Her gaze flicked fully to Lucen now, sharp enough to cut. "You going to introduce me?"

Lucen smirked, setting his fork down. "’Depends. You going to sit first, or are we doing this awkwardly over the table?’"

A flicker, amusement, brief, like a glint of steel.

She slid into the booth without asking, coat settling like a shadow behind her. Up close, her presence was sharper still, refined, dangerous in the way a blade is dangerous when you’ve forgotten it’s pressed against your throat.

Varik leaned back just slightly, arms folding across his chest. "This is Lucen."

Selindra’s eyes stayed on him. "No family name?"

Lucen smiled wider. "’Not unless you’re buying.’"

She arched a brow. "Cocky. Cute."

Varik’s gaze flicked to Lucen, then back to her. "He’s under my watch."

That drew a real reaction, a pause, subtle but telling. Selindra’s eyes narrowed faintly, curiosity sharpening. "Your watch? That’s... unusual."

Lucen tapped a finger against the table, watching her with that easy half-grin. ’Unusual, huh? Seems I’m an exotic pet now.’

Selindra didn’t look away. "You don’t bring people under your wing, Varik. Not unless they’re worth it. So what is he?"

Varik’s silence stretched long enough for the question to sink. He didn’t answer.

Lucen leaned in slightly, chin propped on his hand. "’I like the mystery better, personally. Builds atmosphere.’"

Selindra’s lips twitched, just a fraction. Her eyes, though, didn’t soften. They pinned him like a hawk watching prey. "Mystery is fine. But curiosity can be dangerous. Especially when I’ve just watched two S-ranks tear up half a block outside."