The return to Verne was a blur, from Lucian’s point of view. People didn’t want to forcefully interrogate people that ostensibly had been attacked and injured, so that played to their advantage.

  With both Denzel and Rowan vouching for Lucian, they were able to return to Verne without suffering an inquisition. Denzel played the role of the man that didn’t like Lucian, but was being honest for honesty’s sake. Rowan was more straightforward in his support, declaring that he believed Lucian full-heartedly. Charlton was brought in as a supposedly neutral third-party, and he verified that Lucian’s soul was damaged.

  Lucian ended up at Charlton’s estate for recovery and observation. There, he intended to try and gain some mastery over his Formless Essence under the supervision of one of the most qualified healers in the world. He also wanted to keep up on how the situation was developing after Lombard’s death. Vivari was dead, but so was Lombard. An accelerant had been destroyed, but the catalyst had been activated. Lucian honestly didn’t know how the situation would unfold from there.

  Over the following days, Lucian uncovered various different things about his newfound power. The first was that the injury to his soul had been impacting the speed at which he could manipulate the Formless Essence. As the days passed, it moved less like cold molasses and more like warm syrup. It was still far, far slower than magic, but the improvement seemed substantial. On other fronts…

  Lucian laid on his bed, Evercodex at his lap. Rowan sat at a chair beside his bed. He’d been consigned to a suite of Charlton’s estate, which was quite nice. The Evercodex was open to his stats. He’d estimated them based on how many enemies he knew to be in the stronghold, alongside Vivari. He wasn’t sure it even applied anymore, but updating it comforted him.

  HP: 50 (+13)

  STR: 29 (+15)

  CON: 29 (+11)

  DEX: 29 (+7)

  SPD: 32 (+10)

  MAG: 48 (+22)

  Those stats… they were solid. Very solid, even. He’d probably leapfrogged everyone. He’d estimate these stats as fitting for Mission 4, maybe even 5. His MAG and HP in particular were amazing. People would catch up soon, but he was far ahead.

  But… with the Formless Essence, did that even matter anymore? Were his stats quantifiable?

  “I’ll never get accustomed to seeing that,” Rowan commented. “Explain it to me, please.”

  Lucian held a black flame in hand, waving it around idly. He didn’t recoil in fear upon seeing dark magic, as Charlton suggested might happen. Maybe he’d fear the First Emperor. Best-case scenario, he’d fear that old man form he’d taken. He looked to the flame of dark magic. Rather than illuminate the surroundings, this flame ate the light. The past days, Lucian had to consider thousands of different possibilities to improve his build. Not just for his build—for the entire future.

  Lucian waved the flame once more. “I’m still working things out.”

  “Then at least tell me what you’ve learned. Sometimes trying to explain something to another person can help you take a step forward.” Rowan looked at the flame closer. “You said this power was something the First Emperor was aiming to possess?”

  “Yeah.” The magic wore off and dissipated. “I can basically customize magic however I want, but you’ve already learned that. What else… oh, yeah. Charlton has been trying to help me with the other aspects—forms of power that are seldomly wielded by people. Like… uhh, demonic energy,” he said in a half-cough. He added quickly, “I’m still very wounded, by the way. In case you were curious.”

  “Relax. My father is a demonologist. I know not to conflate demonic energy with influence,” Rowan said. “What about other forms of power? Divinity, perhaps?”

  Lucian looked over. “Charlton has been speculating that I might be able to recreate things like purified essence, even blessings of the gods,” he said with a pleased smile. “But I’ve been trying for a while without success. Every single time I have tried it, it feels as if it’s ripping something out within me. I’m concerned.”

  Rowan considered that. “Best not to try, then, maybe.”

  A clock rung out, and both of them looked toward it.

  “Oh, that’s my timer.” Lucian took a deep breath, then activated the Blessing of the Titan’s Heart. He felt a surge of vitality erupt from his heart, and gripped his chest in response. “Whoo… damn.”

  “What’s that?” Rowan asked curiously.

  “A blessing of mine. Purges negative status ailments. It’s helping with my recovery tremendously. Charlton said my recovery will be complete in a few more days,” Lucian said eagerly.

  Rowan looked disconcerted. “How many blessings do you have, exactly?”

  “Mmm… more than two.”

  Rowan’s eyes widened. “Three?” Lucian wavered. “Four?” Rowan pressed.

  “Four,” Lucian confirmed. “Anyway, that ties into why I think I need to consider forcing these blessings out of my body, and giving it to everyone else who’s going to be actually fighting.”

  Rowan raised a hand. “What do you mean, ‘actually fighting?’ I’ve seen you in the thick of things plenty.”

  “Rowan, I think…” Lucian laid his head back on the pillow. “I’m not cut out for this. I’m just not. Objectively speaking, I’d be a hell of a lot more useful staying in the back, being the coach for all of you. You guys—you Student Ambassadors—are all more talented than I am. I can tell you the enemies that you might be fighting, what do you need to prepare, where you can go to get blessings. And on top of that, I can do it all without risking my neck. That’s the main appeal,” Lucian admitted honestly. “Meanwhile, you save the world.”

  Rowan stood up and walked around. He looked to be chewing on Lucian’s words. “But you’re good at fighting.”

  Lucian laughed. “Please…”

  “You think someone can do what you have and survive while being terrible?” Rowan sat back down. “Against the bandits. Against that shellfish knight. Against—”

  “Merspawn Knight,” Lucian corrected.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Whatever. Against Metterand—there must’ve been some close calls. Just recently, when Belcourt showed up—you moved. You acted immediately. That kind of decisive judgment is amazing, Lucian.”

  Lucian looked at him intently, all humor gone. “Even if that is true, it doesn’t matter. All I have to do is fuck up once. Be a little slow… be a little late.” He clapped his hands and said quickly, “Bam, everything I’m good for—my knowledge—evaporates.”

  “Are you illiterate?” Rowan asked pointedly. “Can’t you write it down?”

  “I have.” Lucian grabbed his Evercodex and held it up.

  “In an Evercodex,” Rowan said dryly. “So that no one in the world can ever read it. Very smart.”

  “Demons can read, too, in case you forgot,” Lucian reminded him. “I can’t just go around spilling the whole world’s secrets on some highly-accessible book.”

  “Fair point. But you can share that knowledge with others—people like me, like Miriam. We can record it in our own Evercodexes. We can act as a failsafe in case you fall,” Rowan said, his logic ironclad.

  “Avoiding the fall is the part I want most,” Lucian said quietly.

  “I get that,” Rowan said with a nod. “My point is, you’re good at this. You’re not going to fall. If I had to choose one other person to fight with, I’d choose you. Not Denzel, not Miriam, not Helen, not Arslan, not Ruth, not Isran—you, Lucian Villamar,” he said, then let the words hang.

  Lucian met his blue-eyed gaze. He saw sincerity in them. “That’s stupid. Choose your dad. Or Lorenna. Hell, even Cyril.”

  Rowan hung his head, chuckling. He sighed for a bit, then stood up and brushed off his pants. “I’m going to fight the demons. I’m going to fight them until I die, or they do—whichever comes first. If you were to come along with me, I’d be over the moon. Ultimately, though… that’s your choice to make. Whichever way things go, I won’t hold it against you. But I want you to know I’d gladly march into the Hells at your side. In fact, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t invite me the first time.”

  Lucian smiled. He understood why Rowan was the protagonist. This guy was good at words. Not just good, either—he meant what he said. Lucian had been pretty certain about becoming a coach, but now?

  “I have to get through my trial alive, first,” Lucian said. “Even that’s not a given. It’s going to get started in force soon enough.”

  Lucian laid his head back and looked out the window, wondering what the future would hold for him.

  ***

  “Oh, Lucy…”

  Lucian opened his eyes, blinking tiredly. When he saw the face near his own, he jumped. Before he could shout, there was a cloth over his mouth.

  “Hush. I don’t want to get caught,” Theobald said. “Gonna take this cloth off. Don’t scream. It’s your old pal, Teddy.” Theobald pulled away the cloth covering Lucian’s mouth.

  Lucian said incredulously, “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

  Theobald held his arms wide. He wore the clothes of the canal engineers all around Verne. “I told the butler I was inspecting a possible crack in the foundation, which might lead to potential flooding or shifting if not properly handled. He let me in.”

  Lucian sputtered for a bit, and then cradled his forehead. He’d told Charlton to allow no visitors whatsoever without his prior approval. He didn’t know whether that was a testament to the alchemist’s lack of caution, or Theobald’s exceptional ability to infiltrate. The man was a suspicious lumbering giant—how did he manage to get by so smoothly?

  “And what was so damn urgent you had to break the law just to talk to me?” Lucian asked.

  “I didn’t break the law. They let me in,” Theobald defended.

  “You just said that you didn’t want to get caught,” Lucian snapped.

  Theobald ignored that point, staring at Lucian. “I hear that you got hurt. Can you walk around?”

  “I stumble a little, but I can go anywhere I need to,” Lucian said. “Why?”

  Theobald smiled, and leaned down. “How would you like to meet the star witness for your case?”

  Lucian blinked a few times, still tired. “Will they vanish like morning fog if I don’t attend now? If not, I think I’d like to sleep a little bit more.”

  “Aw, c’mon…” Theobald sat on Lucian’s bed. “I can guarantee you you’re going to like this. Hell, I’m in love with this. Your case, it just turned from a walk through the Hells to a…”

  “…cakewalk?” Lucian said hopefully.

  Theobald waved his hands. “More like a… jaunt through fields of cacti. Very painful, yes, but survivable. And since you have me in your corner, a veritable survivalist of the legal profession, I can lead you through this jaunt with minimal damage.”

  Lucian clicked his tongue for a few seconds, thinking. After working up the motivation, he threw off the covers. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  “I checked it out. Problem solved. Crack’s sealed,” Theobald said with a thumbs up.

  The butler of the Lowenthal estate held his hands together as if in prayer. “I cannot thank you enough, sir. The master would’ve been furious.”

  Lucian shook his head and walked out. The butler looked slightly confused at the fact that Lucian was leaving with the canal engineer, but he didn’t have time to provide any commentary. Theobald caught up with Lucian and gestured toward the right way.

  “They’re waiting for you in a carriage,” Theobald said. “Not too far away.”

  Lucian looked at him. “Walk by the canal. I don’t want to stumble in.”

  “Certainly.” They set off through Verne. “Now, what if I told you that your father had a partner in crime, someone who did a great majority of the things that he achieved right alongside him? Another very potent dark mage, and now one with reason to turn against him?” Theobald asked.

  “…okay,” Lucian said, too tired to guess.

  “As I suspected, Cyril was too careful to leave evidence lying around in the opening. I wasn’t able to find anything that allowed me to incriminate him directly. Either way, with our witness, we’ll have the ability to make things very uncomfortable for your father.” Theobald smiled broadly. “Very, very uncomfortable.”

  They made their way through the streets of Verne, heading for the perimeter where carriages could enter. Eventually, they came to a rather covert carriage that didn’t appear at all like the luxurious coaches that he’d often seen the nobles take. Theobald walked up to it.

  “Lucian. I’m happy to reunite you with… your mother.” Theobald opened the doors to the carriage with a huge smile.

  A glass bottle fell and clinked onto the pavement, rolling along and spilling wine until it stopped at Lucian’s foot. Tearing his gaze from the bottle, he looked inside the carriage to see an older version of the gray-haired woman he’d seen in his vision. She looked somewhat like Cate. Duchess Lydia Villamar was out cold, drooling on the cushion of the carriage.

  Lucian looked back to the wine bottle. Once he’d seen his fill, Lucian turned his head to watch Theobald silently.

  Theobald squeezed his lower lip with his finger, a grimace on his face. “She, uhh… she didn’t have that bottle when I last saw her. She told me she wanted to… surprise you. She seemed quite excited.”

  “Yeah?” Lucian asked, deadpan. “I am surprised, I’ll give her that.”

  “Must’ve hidden the bottle in her dress, or something.” Theobald bit his fingernail. He shut the carriage doors, then rested his head against it for a while before turning to Lucian with a guilty expression. “I’m, uhh… sorry to wake you.”

  “Sorry to be awake.”

  Theobald walked up, some optimism returning as he held out two pointed fingers. “Anyway, I swear to you, your mother can turn everything around for you. The stories that she’s told… and she really seemed quite clear, before.”

  Lucian smiled. Running away to Heavenwatch Monastery continued to become more appealing.