CHAPTER 68: MEETING (2)

Varik tilted his head slightly. "Didn’t want to ruin the last one. You did light half the street on fire."

Lucen shrugged. "Collateral."

Silence.

Then Varik nodded once and turned. Started walking.

Lucen followed.

They passed a locked gate, old steel, reinforced. Varik tapped a glyph on the wall. Low hum, then a click. Door opened smooth. Quiet.

Inside, the temperature dropped. The air thinned.

Lucen’s boots echoed slightly on polished floor.

Underground.

Mana in the walls.

They were in something old. Something repurposed. This wasn’t new-construction government. This was private. Legacy. Maybe even illegal.

Lucen didn’t ask.

Didn’t need to.

Varik opened another door.

The room beyond was large, hollow, and silent. No decorations. No gear. Just reinforced stone and a circle embedded in the floor, faint silver glow. Spell-conductive alloy.

Lucen stepped in. The door sealed behind them.

Varik walked to the center and turned.

"Show me," he said. "No stakes. No limits. I want to see what you actually are."

Lucen raised an eyebrow.

"Bit forward."

"I’ve seen enough fakes," Varik said. "I want to know what makes you different."

Lucen’s hand twitched slightly.

Then he smiled.

No smirk. No game.

Just that calm, dangerous smile that didn’t reach the eyes.

"You sure?"

Varik nodded once.

Lucen took a step forward and dropped his mana limiters.

The air shifted.

No chant. No signal.

Just pressure.

His system slid forward like it had been waiting to breathe.

[Spell Archive: Active]

Mana flared beneath his feet. Controlled. Quiet.

Not for the street.

Not for show.

This was private now.

And Varik had just invited the storm in.

—

Lucen didn’t speak.

He just stepped forward, one foot into the silver trace of the embedded ring. The alloy beneath his sole lit faint, like it recognized something.

Varik stayed in the center. Arms folded. No weapon. No shift in stance. Like a teacher watching a student walk into a pop quiz they didn’t study for.

Lucen raised one hand. Flicked two fingers sideways.

[Ignition Burst]

The firebolt snapped into life. Fast. Clean. It arced toward Varik’s side—

—And stopped.

Dead center of the circle, two feet from target, it froze in place. Hovered mid-air. Heat dissipated. Mana structure unraveled like it was being dissected atom by atom.

Varik didn’t move.

Lucen tilted his head.

’Alright. That’s how it’s gonna be?’

He pivoted.

Right hand drew the quick arc. Fast line. Sharp angle.

[Shockweave Bolt]

The lightning screamed across the gap. A tracer line lanced the air, blue-white and sharp.

It never made contact.

The mana collapsed mid-flight. Not exploded. Not deflected. Just... ceased. Like the room itself didn’t feel like playing along.

Lucen stepped forward once more.

Mana rebuilt.

[Frost Spire]

This time it came from below. A sharp ice lance, crystal-clear, erupted up at an angle.

It reached waist-height before cracking apart in a dozen pieces.

The shards melted before hitting the ground.

Varik hadn’t blinked.

Lucen cracked his knuckles.

Left hand rolled backward. Three-step trace. Wider sigil.

[Soundlash]

Pressure popped.

A visible wave shot out, concussive, violent.

The ripple hit Varik dead-on.

He shifted half an inch. Not staggered. Just let it pass. Like someone brushing off lint.

Lucen blinked once.

’Okay.’

He flexed his fingers.

[Piercing Flare]

This one was cleaner. Streamlined beam. Designed for power.

It launched. Bright. Loud. A line of white heat.

It struck dead center.

Vanished.

No impact. No trace.

Not even a heat signature.

Lucen exhaled, lips curling up just slightly.

Then he stepped into the deeper ring.

Let his arms rise.

Two-hand trace. Sigil full-formed. Complex.

[Crater Bloom]

The ground rumbled. Circle glowed. Shock built.

Then burst.

But the blast never rose. It folded into itself mid-bloom. Silenced. Contained.

Varik stepped forward one pace.

Lucen met his gaze.

Then smiled wider.

"This next one," he said. "I built it to break buildings."

He dropped the entire cast in one fluid movement.

[Cataclysm Vector]

The air distorted.

The floor hissed. Energy pulled in tight. Wind swirled from nowhere.

It launched.

Everything fired. Heat. Force. Shards. Lightning. The full layered payload of a 60-mana, three-element cast.

It detonated.

Except it didn’t.

Varik’s boot scraped one half-step forward.

And the blast collapsed like a house of cards.

No crater. No damage. No anything.

Just quiet.

Lucen stood still.

Breathing even.

Seven spells.

No effect.

He let his arms drop.

His system flickered low in the back of his skull.

’That’s new.’

Varik finally moved.

One hand rose. Not fast. Not threatening.

Just a simple gesture.

"You’re refined," he said. "But the weight isn’t there yet."

Lucen narrowed his eyes. "Didn’t realize this was a bench test."

"It is," Varik said. "But not for your spells."

Lucen tilted his head. "Then for what?"

Varik nodded toward the glowing ring under Lucen’s feet.

"To see if you’d stop."

Lucen blinked once.

Then stepped forward again.

The sigil flared behind him, just for a second.

He said nothing.

But he didn’t stop.

And Varik smiled.

Just a little.

Like maybe this one was worth the call after all.

—

Lucen didn’t speak.

Didn’t twitch.

Just watched the echo of his final spell fizzle into the floor like it had second thoughts.

Varik stood there. Completely still. No reaction in his body, only the way his eyes narrowed slightly. Like he’d seen everything and nothing at the same time.

Then he said it.

"I can tell," Varik said, voice low. "You’re still a low level."

Lucen didn’t answer right away.

His mana ticked in the background.

He rolled one shoulder back. Flexed his left hand. Casual. Loose.

’Right. Forgot that part. Still only level seven. Basically a baby. Cute.’

Aloud, he said, "Was it the lack of secondary layering or the slow cast interval?"

Varik didn’t blink. "Neither. You’re compensating. Every cast is built like you don’t trust your stats to carry it."

Lucen smiled thinly. "I don’t."

"And that’s the problem."

Lucen tilted his head. "You’re saying the problem is I think."

"I’m saying the moment your system catches up to your design instincts," Varik said, "this world’s going to have a very, very bad day."

That gave Lucen a half-second pause.

Not because he disagreed.

Because someone else said it first.

’Usually I’m the one warning people about me.’