CHAPTER 160: NO RUSH

Lucen sat across from a cold slice of toast and a screen full of guild memos. His tray was balanced on one knee, left foot propped on the corner leg of the booth. The cafeteria was half-full, too early for the lunchtime crowd but too late for the morning rush to be gone.

He didn’t read the notifications. Just stared at them until they got the message and closed themselves.

His system pinged.

[Assignment: New Mission Available]

[Type: Solo – Tactical Sweep]

[Location: Westbridge Greenline, District 8]

[Reward: 6,000 credits + item drop rights]

[Status: Claimed Automatically (Guild Rank Priority Override)]

Lucen stared at the glowing box.

Then slowly lowered his toast. "What."

Across the table, Gen looked up from his third protein bar. "What’s up."

Lucen angled the screen toward him. "I just got assigned."

Gen squinted. "Already? It’s your day off."

"That’s what I thought." He tapped the map icon. "District 8. Greenline. Solo sweep."

Gen grimaced. "Ugh. That’s near the collapsed tunnel zone, right?"

Lucen blinked. "What collapsed tunnel zone."

"You’ll see."

Lucen sighed. "That’s not what I wanted to hear."

Gen took another bite. "Want me to come?"

Lucen thought for a second. Weighed it.

The system pinged again.

[Note: Mission classified as Rank-C for Guild visibility. Actual risk rating: Unverified.]

[You will receive an automatic stat calibration bonus for entering solo.]

Lucen muttered, "...oh."

Gen raised an eyebrow.

Lucen stood. "Nah. I got this."

He took the rest of his toast with him. Shoved it in his mouth on the walk out.

Gen called after him, mouth full: "If it’s a mimic nest, call me!"

Lucen gave him a thumbs-up without turning.

—

The Greenline was quiet.

Too quiet.

It used to be a subway platform, judging by the collapsed tile ceiling and the ancient ticketing machines with vines growing out of them. The rift detection team had set up a perimeter with white pylons and ambient mana meters. All blinking green.

So naturally, Lucen’s system read it differently.

[Anomalous Mana Threading Detected]

[Subsurface readings suggest drift bleed in a 12-meter radius]

[Local Guild Evaluation: Incomplete]

Lucen stood at the edge of the platform. Sword on his back. Hood up.

There was a soft breeze coming from below. Even though the tunnels were sealed.

He tilted his head.

’Right. That’s normal. Breeze coming out of solid rock. Sure.’

He drew the sword, quietly.

Didn’t ignite the flame.

Not yet.

The platform was broken in a long, jagged arc. Chunks of concrete lay where rails used to be, and water pooled in stagnant collections near the far wall.

He crouched low, tapped two fingers to the surface.

The system pulsed again.

[You have entered a latent Drift Zone]

[Visual ID Required to Trigger Manifestation]

Lucen stared down into the black.

"Visual ID?"

He leaned slightly forward.

Squinted.

Something blinked back.

He didn’t even have time to swear before the ground under him shattered.

Lucen fell seven meters straight down into the dark.

—

He landed hard. Rolled. Sword out.

The space he hit wasn’t a tunnel. It wasn’t even on the guild map.

It was a chamber.

Stone walls. Rounded edges. Moss growing over half-formed glyphs in the floor. Broken statues against the walls. It didn’t feel like a dungeon. It felt like a memory of one.

Lucen muttered, "Oh cool. A forgotten crypt. On my day off."

The moment his foot shifted, the sword buzzed.

He spun.

Movement in the dark. Tall.

Armor. Or something that used to be armor. Rusted plate fused to bone. No system label. No health bar. Just a figure rising from the shadows with both hands out.

Lucen didn’t wait.

He let the flame ignite.

Sword edge flashed to orange, then white. The heat wasn’t loud, it was focused. Sharp. Controlled like before.

Lucen swept the sword up in a diagonal slash.

The flame followed.

The air shimmered. The old knight’s chest erupted in a line of heat and light. The rest of it dropped like wet ash.

Lucen exhaled.

’One.’

Then two more rose from the sides.

"Of course."

He didn’t back up.

Instead, he rushed one.

The sword didn’t hum, it howled.

Ghostfire wrapped the blade in a pulsing ripple as Lucen ducked a spear thrust and slid under it, blade cutting across the figure’s hip in a clean arc. Another ripple. Another drop.

The second one swung low, shield first. Lucen caught it with the flat of his blade. Ghostfire reacted, flared.

The shield burst in half.

Lucen blinked.

’Okay. That’s new.’

He struck once, clean.

And it was over.

The system pinged.

[Combat Complete]

[Drift Affinity Rising: 5%]

[Unlock Condition Approaching: Ghostfire Adaptation (??%)]

Lucen wiped sweat from his brow.

He glanced around the crypt.

Still.

Quiet.

He slowly lowered the sword, breath coming slower now.

’This isn’t a C-rank mission.’

The system didn’t disagree.

Lucen stepped over the cracked remnants of the armored figures and moved deeper into the chamber. More glyphs glowed underfoot now, dim blue. Inactive, but watching.

He reached a smaller archway and looked in.

One more body.

Upright. Breathing.

Alive.

Lucen froze.

’That’s not a monster.’

It was a kid.

Maybe fifteen. Hood down. Pale shirt. No weapons. He was crouched in a corner near what looked like a mana amplifier, blown out and buzzing softly.

The kid looked up.

Eyes wide.

Lucen lowered the sword instantly.

"I’m not here to hurt you."

The kid didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Lucen tilted his head. "You stuck?"

Still nothing.

Then a voice behind him: "He can’t answer."

Lucen turned.

Another man stood at the chamber’s edge, hands up.

No weapon drawn.

Just smiling.

Lucen’s sword glowed a little brighter.

The man said, "Relax. I’m the one who filed the mission. I figured you’d handle it."

Lucen blinked. "You what?"

"Guild intern," the man said casually. "My name’s Bo. This one wandered into the wrong spot. Got caught in the drift bleed. We’ve been looking for him."

Lucen didn’t drop the sword.

Bo raised his hands higher. "You’re good. I saw the footage."

Lucen narrowed his eyes. "There was no camera down here."

Bo’s grin didn’t fade. "There was one."

Lucen stepped sideways, between the man and the kid.

Bo said, "He’s not the target, Lucen. You are."

The sword lit all the way to white.

—

Lucen didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

The air in the chamber got thinner. Not magically. Not system-induced. Just tension, pulled tight across every molecule between them.

Bo’s hands stayed up.

Lucen’s sword didn’t lower. Not an inch.

"You want to run that line again?" Lucen said flatly.

Bo gave a small smile, like someone explaining a prank. "You’re overthinking it. No threat. You handled the bleed just fine. We were just confirming data."

Lucen’s fingers didn’t twitch. But the sword edge brightened again.

Not flame.

Not heat.

Just readiness.

"Right," Lucen said. "Because the best way to confirm data is to fake a solo mission, bury it in a collapsed district, and then wait for me at the bottom of a crypt."

Bo shrugged. "You’re not exactly accessible during team runs."

Lucen’s head tilted slightly. "You know I’m seventeen, right?"

"I do."

"Because this feels like the kind of weird plot you pull on retired war generals."

Bo’s smile didn’t change.

The boy in the corner hadn’t moved. Still frozen, like his whole system was offline.

Lucen glanced at him, then back.

"You do something to him?"

Bo raised an eyebrow. "He’s fine. Temporal haze, nothing permanent. Just slows reactions. Keeps him quiet."

Lucen’s grip on the sword shifted.

His knuckles didn’t go white. But his shadow did.

Just for a second. A ripple on the ground.

Bo caught it. His smile twitched.

"Easy. You don’t know what this is about."

Lucen said nothing.

"I work with Tier 3 Guild Audit. Drift Behavior Division. We collect anomalous combat data for high-strain events. You—you’re anomalous, Lucen."

Lucen let the silence stretch.

Then said, "And you think that’s a good way to start a friendship."

Bo’s left foot angled back.

Lucen noticed.

His blade dipped forward slightly, just enough to acknowledge it.

"Hey," Bo said lightly, "No need to make this messy. You’re already on file. No harm done."

Lucen’s eyes narrowed.

’No. See. That’s where you’re wrong.’

The sword hummed.

Bo dropped his hands.

The air cracked.

Lucen moved.

—

Bo went first. Hands snapped out, two silver darts of mana forming from his fingertips, fast, sharp, aimed for center mass.

Lucen ducked. Stepped sideways and forward in one clean blur, sword swinging low. No flame this time. Just force.

Bo jumped, back flipped onto a broken ledge above the chamber floor. His coat flared behind him. Hands glowed again, but this time the glyphs were visible, spinning rings of faded white, like hollow bones.

Lucen didn’t wait.

He channeled mana through the blade, ghostfire flickering down the edge. He leapt. One foot on a column, second step off a ledge, blade cutting an arc in the air.

Bo snapped both hands up and cast a concussive burst.

The air between them popped.

Lucen’s blade met it head-on.

The fire along the sword surged, twisted with wind, broke through the blast, and hit.

Bo’s shield cracked. Not shattered. Just bent.

Lucen landed in front of him. Swung sideways, low again.

Bo jumped backward, narrowly missing the blade. He hit the floor with a grunt, rolled, and flung another glyph behind him.

Lucen didn’t dodge.

He stabbed through it.

The glyph exploded around the blade, light and sound and raw force, but didn’t knock him back. His system blinked:

[Passive Dampener Engaged]

[Magic Threshold Absorbed: 67%]

Lucen grinned slightly.

’Oh? New trick.’

Bo was already on his feet again, backing toward the crypt exit. Sweat now. Just barely. But there.

"You’re better than the footage," Bo said quickly. "You’ve leveled again."

Lucen didn’t respond.

He walked forward. Not rushed.