CHAPTER 72: PRIVATE TRAINING (4)

Lucen didn’t drop his stance.

Not right away.

The spell residue clung to his coat. His palms still buzzed faintly, like the threads hadn’t finished retracting.

Across from him, Varik exhaled.

The kind of breath that didn’t say tired.

Just done.

He rolled one shoulder. Cracked his neck. Then relaxed his arms and let them hang.

"Alright," Varik said. "That’s enough."

Lucen waited a beat longer, then stood up straighter.

Didn’t say anything. Just let his system catch up.

It did.

A soft chime flickered through his vision. Bright. Fast.

[EXP GAINED: 184]

[Bonus: Rank Differential Encounter ×3.0]

[Additional Bonus: High-Level Human Opponent]

[New Total: 356 / 400 EXP]

Lucen blinked once.

’Oh.’

He didn’t smile.

Just tilted his head and watched the number sit there.

[Level: 7 → (Pending)]

Not quite.

But close enough that it was funny.

Varik stepped forward again—this time slower. Less pressure behind it. More casual.

"You felt that, didn’t you?" he said.

Lucen didn’t answer.

Just nodded once. Short. Clipped.

"That’s how real growth works," Varik said. "The system’s weighted."

Lucen looked at him.

Expression flat.

"You get more for people," Varik continued. "Not monsters. Not drifts. People."

Lucen raised a brow. "That’s not listed in the manuals."

Varik snorted. "They don’t write it down. They want chaos, not knowledge."

Lucen turned the numbers over in his head again.

Monster runs? 30, 40. Maybe 50 if he was lucky.

This?

Almost two hundred. And Varik hadn’t even tried.

He opened his hand. Felt the flow return.

[Mana: 42 / 112]

System threads ticked behind his eyes, clean and precise now. No lag. No hitch.

Like the fight had carved something out and filled it back in smoother.

Lucen shook his fingers once, then cracked his knuckles.

"This doesn’t mean I’m joining your shadow team," he said, voice dry.

Varik gave a half-shrug. "Didn’t say you were."

Lucen narrowed one eye. "But you want me to."

Varik looked at him fully. Eyes sharp. Silver. Unreadable.

"I want you alive."

Lucen paused.

Then said nothing.

Because that line didn’t sound like a pitch.

It sounded like a warning.

Varik turned back toward the exit door.

"Take the night," he said. "Recover. Level up. Or don’t."

He looked over his shoulder.

"Next time, I will be trying."

Lucen watched him go.

Then opened his system.

Just looked at the line.

[356 / 400 EXP]

He let out a long breath.

Low. Quiet.

’Guess I really don’t get to play dumb anymore.’

He closed the window.

Turned toward the wall.

And started walking.

—

The floor tiles clicked under his boots. Thin, slightly uneven. The kind of concrete blend that picked up the echo just enough to remind you that you were alone.

Lucen didn’t rush.

Didn’t stroll either.

Just walked like he had something worth thinking about and nowhere to be right now.

His coat was still slightly warm from the last burst of Crater Bloom. His collar still carried the faint, burnt-edge scent of recycled mana and scorched dust. Every few steps, a flicker of residue tickled at his wrist.

He let it happen.

Didn’t shake it off.

The door at the far end of the hall buzzed slightly as he passed under the mana sensor. No one else came through. The corridor behind him went quiet.

Lucen stepped outside into the night.

No fresh breeze. Just city air, thick, filtered, not quite clean. It carried the faint smell of neon exhaust and fried noodle carts.

Down the block, someone was arguing into a wrist comm. A woman in a tan coat waved her arms while pacing in front of a mana-repair kiosk.

He didn’t stop.

Just turned the corner and started the walk home.

He could’ve called transit.

Could’ve flagged down a quick-hop drone.

But he didn’t.

The walk helped.

Let the buzz under his skin calm down.

The street was quieter on this side of the district. Less neon. More shadows. Sidewalks weren’t perfectly flat, half of them still bore the faint cracks from an old drift rupture two years ago.

Lucen’s system flickered again.

[Recovery: 2.3/sec]

[Mana: 74 / 112]

’Not bad,’ he thought. ’Not perfect. But not bad.’

He passed a closed bakery with a shattered front display. The sign above it still flickered between two fonts, like it hadn’t decided whether to die or lie.

Past that, the stairs.

Five flights up. No working lift. The usual.

He reached into his coat, fished out the new laminate, and tucked it behind his ID badge.

Didn’t look at it.

Not yet.

Just pressed the stairwell door open and started climbing.

—

Lucen stood at the base of the stairwell.

New building. Polished floors. Emergency lights working. Even the paint on the walls hadn’t peeled yet.

No reason to walk.

So, of course, he did.

He glanced at the elevator.

Then turned toward the stairs.

"I’m getting my cardio in," he muttered.

His voice echoed up the stairwell. Clean acoustics. Concrete and metal and faint industrial mana shielding humming through the walls.

He took the first step.

’If I’m going to fake being healthy, might as well do it on the way to recovery.’

Step two. Three. Four.

His coat felt heavier now that the adrenaline had burned off. His back itched where his system threads were still tightening from the mana recoil. Nothing damaging. Just a buzz behind the ribs.

[Mana: 108 / 112]

’Back to casting range in... ten steps, give or take.’

A sound echoed from above.

Distant. Mechanical.

Not dangerous.

Probably the building’s mana stabilizer kicking in again. Lucen didn’t slow.

Another flight. He turned the landing.

Each step was soft. Silent. Like the building had been built to hide movement, not host it.

’Gen’s idea of a favor always comes with nice flooring.’

He reached the third floor.

His key sigil pulsed when he crossed the boundary.

The lock didn’t click, it just let him through. Like it already knew.

He stepped into the apartment.

Lights adjusted instantly.

Mana-calibrated. Auto-sense arrays. The air inside was clean. Too clean. Like the smell had been wiped with synthetic neutralizers.

Lucen stepped out of his boots. Dropped them by the wall. His coat hit the hook.

He didn’t sit.

Just stood in the center of the space.

Hardwood. Reinforced frame windows. Mana insulation so tight it felt like the world outside had stopped trying to matter.

He rolled his shoulders. Felt the stiffness set in now that the danger was over.

’Still not used to this much space. Or this much silence.’

The hum of the fight was gone.

No more threats.

Just clean air. Room temperature walls. An untouched kitchen that smelled like pre-processed resin.

He flexed one hand.

[Mana: 112 / 112]

Full again.

His system opened without being asked.

[EXP: 356 / 400]

[Level 7 – Pending Advancement]

Lucen stared at the screen for a second.

Then shut it.

He walked to the far window.

Looked out.

City lights below. No monsters. No smoke. Just the hush after everything stops moving.

He leaned a hand on the glass.

’Tomorrow.’

He stepped back.

Didn’t turn off the lights.

Just walked to the corner and sat down.

Not in the center of the room.

Not on the couch.

Just against the wall.