CHAPTER 153: REST DAY (1)

Lucen reversed stance, pulled mana back, swung into a sharper arc. The blade cut deeper, heat flared hotter, but only for a moment, before dissipating without explosion.

He blinked. "Controlled." The noise was soft, not like the big surges from before.

Varik glanced at him: "That’s the difference between breaking something and bending it."

For an hour, they moved through drills. Varik critiqued stance shifts, wrist angles, mana flow. Lucen replaced brute arcs with tight precision. Each cut less flamboyant but more thorough. Every strike left a clean seam, not chaos.

"Good" became a rare compliment. And Lucen felt the sword grow familiar, not as a weapon but as an extension of thought.

—

At midday, they broke for water. Lucen leaned against a pillar, sweat drying on his shirt. Blue-black streak from yesterday’s run traced his neck.

Varik watched him. "Your systems note growth in mana metering and finesse."

Lucen rolled his neck. "Feels less like wrestling with energy."

Varik tapped a finger on the shard pinned inside a small case. "That core shard you carry—it’s attuned. I tracked the output curve overnight. Your pulse shape... it’s changed."

Lucen shrugged. "Feels bigger."

Varik nodded, gaze locked on the shard. "Your interface is rewriting itself."

Lucen frowned once. "I’m writing it."

Varik let that hang. "Still new. Don’t overstretch. We’ll continue tomorrow."

—

In the early afternoon, the door opened and Gabe slipped in quietly.

She carried two padded training dummies, small, arc-resistant.

Lucen raised an eyebrow.

Gabe gave a small grin. "Fun test. Think your sword beat can carve mana shapes in a moving target?"

Varik didn’t smile. "Reasonable challenge."

Gabe clapped once. "Load up."

They set the targets end-to-end. Gabe wielded the release glyph controls; Lucen stood ready.

First dummy advanced. Lucen moved like he’d been breathing sword all his life. He sliced along the shoulders. The dummy fell.

Second one launched sideways. He shifted stance and swung through the center. The dummy split in two.

Nine more followed. Juno and Gen watched, giving soft exclamations each time blade arcs sparked across wires and foam.

By the last two, Lucen didn’t even take time to think. Blur and slash, beam-reflecting spark through the blades, and both targets collapsed harmlessly mid-movement.

Silence. Lucen’s breath steady, eyes bright. The sword pulse finally rested.

Gabe let out a impressed whistle. "Didn’t break a sweat."

Gen nodded. "Cleanest run yet."

Varik stepped forward. "Your mana flow stayed consistent. Each strike hit with structure, not surprise."

Lucen looked at Varik. Then turned back to the fallen dummies. "Feels... better."

—

Evening came, and Varik headed home. Lucen gathered his things. Before leaving, Gabe said with a small smile: "Training logs updated. Upper management will see this in tomorrow’s report."

Lucen tipped his head. "Glad my sword habits pay dividends."

Gabe laughed once. "Just keep it safe in the lobby next time."

Lucen grinned. "I might bring it with me."

He walked out into the sunset-lit hall. Mana tingled faintly through his system, steadier than ever.

End of training-day arc.

Let me know where to take it next: testing in live ops, guild intrigue, or even a rest day shift.

—

The ceiling fan clicked again. That was the fourth time in five minutes. Lucen didn’t move. He just lay there on his back, arm flopped over his eyes, letting the hum of the city roll faint through the windows. A car honked. Someone upstairs dropped something metal. A baby screamed three floors down and didn’t stop.

’Rest day, huh?’

He turned his head. The system interface blinked quietly to life in the corner of his eye, blue and clean.

SYSTEM STATUS

Health: 100%

Stamina: 87%

Core Sync: Balanced

Fatigue Markers: Mild

Recommended Activity: Low-intensity adaptation training

He squinted. "Adaptation to what, exactly?"

The system didn’t answer. Obviously.

He sat up slow, shoulders tight. Chest sore from the sword grip yesterday. His right arm felt like a wet rope.

Lucen glanced over at the half-wrapped takeout box on the counter. Chicken. Cold now. The rice had crusted on one side of the bowl.

He got up anyway. Walked barefoot across the tile. It was cold. Not painful. Just annoyingly cold. He stabbed the rice with a fork and shoved half of it into his mouth without bothering to microwave it.

System dinged.

Nutrition log updated. Carbohydrates registered. Recovery boost: +2%

He chewed. ’Seriously? And two percent? I better not pass out climbing stairs.’

Behind him, the apartment door beeped.

Lucen froze with half a mouthful still in his cheek. "I didn’t invite anyone."

A second beep. Then a soft knock. Barely more than a tap.

He walked over in socked feet, pulled the door open three inches, then stopped.

Gen stood outside with a bag slung over one shoulder and a look that said ’I’m being polite, but I’m here to ruin your day.’

Lucen blinked once. "Gen."

"Hey, sunshine." Gen pushed the door the rest of the way open and walked in without being invited. "You weren’t answering comms."

"I was asleep."

"Liar. You don’t even sleep right. You hover."

Lucen closed the door behind him and muttered, "I was in rest mode."

Gen turned in a slow circle, eyeing the place. "Not bad. Still smells like teenage boy and hotwire mana filters, but you’re improving."

"You bring me breakfast or insults?"

Gen dropped the bag on the couch and pulled out a pair of boxed protein bars. "Yes."

Lucen caught the one tossed to him and sat at the kitchen stool. He peeled it back with one hand, chewed without ceremony.

Gen watched him for a second, then leaned forward with a smirk. "So. Heard you clocked a guy yesterday."

Lucen didn’t look up. "He started it."

"You ended it. With a one-tap floor kiss."

"He was throwing punches over kill credit. I was trying to leave."

Gen snorted. "You ever think about your optics?"

"I think about dinner. Often."

Lucen stood up, stretched once, then cracked his back with a grunt. "You here to annoy me, or do we have actual plans?"

"Neither. You’re on enforced rest."

"I’m walking. That’s rest."

Gen walked over to the balcony and popped the sliding door open. "Well, put on pants. We’re getting air."