The room was pitch black.

  Lucien could not see, by choice. A strip of cloth was tied around his eyes, pulling tight at the back of his head. He was empty-handed.

  Beneath his feet, a single circle of light glowed faintly.

  A rule he made himself, step outside the circle and the drill ends. There was no place for mistakes. The circle gave him maybe two long strides in any direction.

  Everything else was enemy.

  Fifty mana constructs surrounded him, all waiting in silence. One radiated dry heat. Another pulsed cold.

  Lightning crackled low in the chest of a third. Fifty shadow beasts padded between them, claws tapping, jaws wet, ready to devour their target.

  The walls held the rest. Hatches rigged with arrows. Steel. Bone. Poisoned. Explosive. Some curved mid-flight. Some made humane sound instead of whistled.

  The first volley struck without warning, just as he wanted.

  Lucien’s head tilted an inch. An arrow sliced the air beside his ear. Two more from the left. He caught one, snapped it in half, let the other pass.

  A breath later, a low whump. A fireball launched from a construct’s chest. He stepped aside, letting it burn past the edge of the circle.

  A beast lunged, claws low.

  Lucien’s knee shot up. The snout cracked on impact. He spun immediately, ducking under another swipe as a second beast came from behind.

  The room lit up. Ice, lightning, movements everywhere.

  An ice shard cut the air beside his cheek. A thunderbolt struck the floor and made the circle tremble, but Lucien stayed rooted. Weight shifted to the balls of his feet. He kept his balance like a dancer on a wire.

  Arrows returned. More now He pivoted and slapped it midair. It detonated just past the line, harmlessly.

  Another whispered instead of whistled. He twisted. The fletching brushed his ribs.

  A construct rushed him from the right. Lucien didn’t face it.

  He stepped into the charge, grabbed its wrist, turned with its weight, and hurled it into the two beasts charging from the front. Bones cracked. All three hit the ground in a tangled heap.

  More spells. More beasts. More traps.

  A rhythm built. Fire from the left. Duck. Ice from above. Lean back. A clawed limb swept low.

  He hopped, spinning as he landed to avoid the second strike. Lightning crawled across the ground like snakes.

  He stepped between them, never hesitating.

  Another curved arrow hunted him from the air.

  Lucien raised a hand without looking and snatched it out of the sky. Behind him, a beast snarled and leapt.

  He stabbed the same arrow backward.

  He let the body collapse outside the circle and didn’t spare it a thought.

  Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

  The glow under his feet pulsed steadily. Dust covered the floor. Shards of broken constructs crackled with residual mana. The air stank of smoke. But Lucien’s breathing remained smooth. No sweat. No panic.

  Lucien stood alone. The circle beneath his feet still glowed, untouched. No enemy remained. No arrow left to fly.

  He reached up, undid the knot, and pulled the blindfold free. Blinking in the faint light, he looked around at the wreckage.

  “Good,” he said, barely above a whisper.

  "I have significantly reduced the mind-body delay which occurs when I utilize my True Perception ability. Before, even at a mere one percent output, movement was often impossible or very hard, yet now I can move, see, and react within that state, albeit with limitations. It remains. Though the progress is rather slow, almost two months of training, and this is the primary achievement. I had anticipated being able to raise my usable limit from one percent to three percent within this timeframe, but it appears this will not be achievable at the current pace. Once this is achieved, I should be able to perceive the higher realm more clearly, and potentially even alter or affect it to some limited extent”

  Lucien stepped out of the training chamber as the doors slid shut behind him with a soft metallic hiss. The corridor was silent and cold, the white stone walls muffling his footsteps. Sanctuary 2 was always like this.

  His quarters, one he’d chosen for himself, were just a short walk away.

  Without wasting time, he headed straight for the shower.

  The water was already running at a steady temperature. He stepped in, letting it hit his shoulders and flow down his arms.

  I can now utilize certain spells and a rudimentary level of magic, a direct consequence of integrating the Astral Plates.

  However, this expenditure consumes my reserves, which regrettably takes a considerable period to replenish. This particular detail was not explicitly mentioned by Father.

  My initial mana reserve, held within a single plate, requires nearly two weeks to completely refill.

  During this replenishment phase, I experience a recurrence of the same lethargy and physiological issues I encountered when the Astral Plates were first integrated.

  This presents itself as an unforeseen challenge, potentially stemming from either my current lack of mastery or an inherent design flaw.

  While I am disinclined to attribute such a critical oversight of Father, given his meticulous nature, the current evidence points to a something else.

  As long as I am operating externally, I must maintain peak physical and mental condition. Therefore, relying on mana drawn from the plates is not an optimal strategy; its usage must be reserved only for critical junctures.

  I am also currently without information regarding whether a similar recovery period applies to the other eighteen plates, and indeed, I remain uncertain as to what specific energy signatures those plates are designed to react to.

  He shut the water off and reached for the towel.

  Dressed, he returned to the table. A wrapped parcel sat at the far corner. He picked it up, weighing it in his hand, and left the room.

  The hallways curved toward the central section of Sanctuary 2, where the drawing room waited. The air here was warmer. He entered, crossed to one of the leather chairs, and sat—parcel in hand, posture steady.

  Now, all that remained was to wait.

  Perhaps, if I were not simultaneously directing significant effort towards Arika's training, my own mastery might have progressed more rapidly, potentially reaching the desired output within the allocated timeframe.

  However, there is no utility in dwelling on hypotheticals or contemplating what could have been.

  For the duration of her training, Arika has demonstrated commendable improvement and growth.

  Despite the rigorous nature of the methods employed – designed for extreme conditioning, she has maintained her cognitive and psychological integrity, an outcome that warrants acknowledgment.

  Her ability to navigate such demanding circumstances without succumbing to a detrimental psychological shift is indeed noteworthy. However, her formal training period concludes for now, as the immediate demands of our operations necessitate her deployment to field work.

  I anticipate her continued progression in practical application. Her utility is now considerable, and she will not be permitted to fail, at least not until her designated purpose has been served.

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  Her current role and her development are now indispensable for my objectives, and this allocation of efforts was both logical and necessary for what I plan to do.

  Some time passed before the one Lucien had been waiting for finally arrived.

  The knife was already in her hand.

  Blood slicked the handle—none of it hers.

  “You’re late,” Lucien said without turning, his voice calm as he read through the reports on his desk.

  Arika stood behind him, breathing slow and controlled.

  “I have finished my final test, Master. How did I perform?”

  “You took too much time,” Lucien replied, disinterested. “But that aside… you won. That’s enough for a passing mark.”

  Her fingers twitched slightly around the blade, adrenaline still humming in her veins. “I’ll do better next time.”

  He paused, set the papers down. Not looking at her, but not dismissing her either.

  “For someone who’s trained only two months, you did brilliantly. Keep that pace, and you’ll be dangerous enough to make people nervous.”

  Her breathing eased, relief mixing with focus. “Thank you, Master.”

  “Sit,” he said. “We have to talk.”

  She obeyed.

  Lucien’s eyes fixed on her. “Did you kill all the soldiers? Any information?”

  “Yes, Master. I ended the final batch today. For almost two months you’ve had me kill fifty soldiers a day—fighting them daily, interrogating them—and every answer they gave was the same. I’m sure you could’ve used them for something better. Even if they’re scum.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lucien said flatly. “We already got what we needed. Our enemies sent them in large numbers these past two months—we captured them specifically for you. That was their only purpose: to help your growth. They were given a choice. Kill you and they go free. Fail, and they die. Fair enough.”

  Arika’s gaze sharpened—more solid, more dead, but also more controlled. “What did you want to talk about, Master?”

  Lucien handed her a parcel. “The time has finally come for your main task. Get ready. We leave tomorrow.”

  Arika looked inside. A band, a new set of clothes, matching her old style but built for battle while appearing ordinary—perfect for staying anonymous. Alongside it lay a dagger unlike any she had seen before.

  “What is this?”

  “The band is a high-end communication device. You can speak to any one of us siblings at any time, anywhere. Once it’s strapped on, it turns invisible and cannot be removed. You can use voice or telepathy, whichever fits the situation. The clothes were made by our golem, built for a stealth fighter like you—tougher than armor but looks like any normal outfit.”

  “Do all of you have these bands as well?”

  Lucien gave a bored sigh. “No. We don’t need bands.” He tapped his temple. “Ours are implanted in the brain through rune craftsmanship. Latest invention from my brother Alaric. This version was made for you specifically.”

  Arika’s hand tightened on the parcel. Just when she thought she’d come closer to understanding the Sinclair's, they handed her more questions instead.

  She looked again at the dagger. “Do I deserve such a weapon?”

  “That’s Night Slasher,” Lucien said. “Forged from two S-rank weapons, infused with the essence of the monster of the lake. Poison, shadow manipulation, absorption and redirection of attacks, high aura capacity. It has many abilities, but one you might like the most is that it can make you invisible and give you a perfect, soundless, impactless slash. Even aura or mana barriers can’t stop it. Very few things exist which it cannot cut open. Read the manual, or speak to my sister Pelta. Don’t underestimate it—you’ll need a proper weapon if you want to be useful.”

  Lucien stood, ready to move. “We leave tomorrow morning. I have other matters, but I’ll drop you and Max where you need to be. Go to your village. Meet a man named Eisen. Be ready at dawn.”

  Arika’s eyes lit up, determination surging. “Yes, Master.”

  Lucien turned without another word, leaving to prepare for his own departure.

  [Next Day – Early Morning, Main Sinclair Estate, Devil Forest]

  The pre-dawn air of the Sinclair estate hung heavy with an unusual stillness, broken only by the soft tap, tap of Lucien’s footsteps as he moved through the grounds.

  He was already prepared to leave at any moment, calm and composed as always, yet without realizing it, something was compelling him to circle the estate, looking at everything with eyes he had never looked before.

  As he walked, fragments of his long-forgotten childhood surfaced. Every building, every garden design, every etched rune—he imprinted them as they were into his mind.

  It was not the luxury or the grandeur of the place that stirred him, but the history in every stone and leaf.

  Everything here had been built by his parents, adored by them, preserved for decades. These were the walls in which he was raised, the world that had shaped him. And today, he was about to leave it.

  Before departing, he wanted one last look. Confident in his power and his plans, he carried no doubts about the path ahead. But somewhere deep inside, there was a quiet refusal to leave without taking this in again—without reliving it, if only in memory. It was a reminder of what he needed to protect, and how much he was willing to sacrifice for it.

  His path took him to the gardens. Rows upon rows of Venus Camara stretched before him, their unsettling beauty, unshaken by the morning chill. The sight calmed him more than he expected. He never fully understood why he liked that flower so much.

  Perhaps it was because they were easy to care for, or because they lasted so long. Perhaps it was something else—some unspoken resemblance he felt between himself and them. Or perhaps there was no reason at all.

  The very idea of liking something was strange to him. What did it even mean? The word felt too light to hold the weight of attachment, yet too ordinary to dismiss.

  Fondness had warmth. Affection had form. But liking? Liking was a flicker, a momentary alignment between feeling and form.

  He did not know if what he felt for the Venus Camara was liking, fondness, or something nameless in the quiet space between. All he knew was that, in their presence, he felt still. And that was enough.

  He moved on, letting his footsteps carry him until he returned to his room. There, waiting, was Pelta—standing silently.

  Lucien: “What is it, Pelta?”

  Pelta looked at him. “Good morning, brother. I came to tell you everyone is ready to leave—many of them are even waiting to say their farewells.”

  Lucien: “Farewell, huh... I see. Let’s go—let’s not waste any more time.”

  He opened the door and ordered his golem to take his luggage.

  Both Pelta and Lucien walked ahead, the golem following with four suitcases and three bags.

  Lucien: “Have you made your clone already?”

  Pelta: “You noticed. Yes—this body is the clone. My original is outside, near the carriage with the others.”

  Lucien: “Good. You’re prepared.”

  As they reached the carriage, Alaric, Selena, Ava, Pelta’s original body, and Daisy were already waiting.

  Behind them, Finn and Ultimare arrived, their luggage carried by another golem.

  Finn: “Seriously—why do you have so much luggage? Planning to hog all the space for yourself, Ultimare?”

  Ultimare: “Don’t be a child, Finn. It’s a long journey—I need my equipment, or how else can I be productive?”

  Finn: “You need sixteen suitcases and eight bags to be productive?”

  Ultimare: “Actually, I need at least thirty—but this will do. You get the gist.”

  Ultimare glanced over the group with a light laugh. “Hey—look at this. The whole family gathered.”

  Ava: “We should. Even if it’s a formality, it matters.”

  Alaric: “Don’t be harsh. It’s a long, tedious, probably harsh journey—at the very least, we can show some grace to these soldiers.”

  Selena: “Just get it over with. I don’t like melodrama—especially not from you lot.”

  The golem began fitting the luggage into the back of the carriage.

  Daisy: “Brother, where are you going? Are you going to Ryan? Can Daisy come too? Daisy is strong!”

  Lucien: “Remember the mission Ryan was sent on? Turns out he can’t do it alone—we’re going to help him.”

  Ava: “You are strong—but you’re defending the house, not covering for an idiot. Got it? These three will handle it.”

  Selena: “My Daisy’s too cute for that. Forget these three freaks—I’ll take you outside next time.”

  Daisy smiled. “Really? I can?”

  Selena: “Yes.”

  Alaric: “You shouldn’t make promises like that.”

  Finn: “If this is how you’re doing formality—it’s better not to do it at all.”

  Ultimare: “So this is the cloning ability you mentioned, Pelta? Feels indistinguishable—amazing.”

  Pelta: “Thank you, brother Ultimare.”

  Ava: “So—are you leaving or not? What’s the plan?”

  Alaric: “They’ll teleport with the carriage, then drive to a certain point where the driver will take over. Shouldn’t be an issue. The carriage might look like a normal noble’s, but it has plenty of features—and the horses are genetically modified.”

  Selena: “Aren’t they missing someone? Where is he?”

  Ava: “You know him—probably sleeping in some corner.”

  Ultimare: “Let’s just leave him here.”

  Finn: “I’d love to—but unfortunately, we can’t.”

  A sudden shout cut through the air.

  “Ohhh—just on time, just on time!”

  Max came running with a single bag in hand.

  Max: “Why did no one come to pick me up?”

  Ava: “Who said we’d pick you up?”

  Finn: “Anyway—get inside. You’re driving for now. Fast.”

  Max: “Aye, aye, captain.”

  He tossed his luggage with the others.

  Max: “See you, everyone.” He waved like a child leaving his hometown for work, then hopped into the driver’s seat.

  Finn: “I’m taking the window seat.”

  Ultimare: “Then I’ll take the other one on the opposite side.”

  Both nodded to the family at the gate before climbing in.

  Lucien and Pelta were last. As Pelta stepped inside, Lucien looked back once.

  Lucien: “Farewell—till we meet again.” He stepped inside.

  Selena: “What’s with him? With our new tech, we can stay in contact always.”

  Alaric: “Who knows—you know, our baby brother. He takes everything too seriously.”

  The family stood near the carriage window.

  Ava waved.

  Daisy shouted: “Bye bye bye!”

  Lucien: “Command: Group Leave.”

  The carriage was bathed in white light—and vanished.