CHAPTER 161: REPORT

Bo raised a new glyph, different symbol. Black this time. The kind that ate light.

Lucen vanished.

Straight up.

Bo blinked.

Lucen dropped behind him from the pillar above. Blade swung once, controlled. Not lethal. But fast enough to feel like a warning.

It landed.

Bo’s coat split. The glyph shimmered and broke.

He staggered back, one leg giving out.

Lucen pointed the sword at him, two-handed now. Calm. Neutral. But very clear.

"I’m not your test subject," Lucen said. "You send me on a fake mission again, I don’t leave you able to spell audit."

Bo coughed. Held up a hand. "Okay. Okay. Point made."

Lucen tilted his head. "Are you submitting a system record?"

Bo hesitated.

Lucen’s blade touched his chest.

Right over the heart.

Bo’s system pinged. Loud enough for both of them to hear.

[Guild File Transfer Request Received – Subject: Lucen Ivara]

[Transmit?]

[Response: Denied]

Lucen’s eyes didn’t move.

"I’ll take the kid," he said.

Bo exhaled. "He’s just a drift-reactive. Not dangerous."

"Cool," Lucen said. "He’s still not staying here."

Bo didn’t argue.

Lucen stepped back.

Bo didn’t rise.

Lucen walked toward the boy in the corner, crouched down. His eyes were wide still—m, frozen.

Lucen reached out, softly tapped his forehead.

Mana flowed. Just a breath.

The boy blinked. Hard.

Then sat up like someone yanked a string in his back.

Lucen smiled faintly. "Hey. You awake?"

The kid stared at him. Blinked again.

Then nodded, fast.

Lucen looked past him. The mana amplifier was cracked, pulsing faintly with residual light. Looked unstable.

He reached into his pocket, pulled a charm Gabe had given him last week, basic drift-null crystal.

Pressed it against the amplifier.

It clicked.

Then quieted.

Lucen stood.

Bo was still sitting, arms on knees. Breathing steady. Not fighting.

"You walking out," Lucen asked, "or do you want help limping?"

Bo shook his head. "You’re not the asset we thought."

Lucen nodded. "And you’re not the recruiter you hoped."

He tapped the comm on his collar. "Lucen Ivara. Mission complete. Drift zone sealed. One civilian retrieved. One... mole. Situation contained."

A beat.

Then Gabe’s voice: "Copy. We’ll scramble pickup. Don’t engage further."

Lucen looked at Bo.

Then walked away.

Sword back on his shoulder. Kid at his side.

’Solo mission, my ass.’

—

Lucen didn’t go straight to the front desk when he returned. He went through the side entrance, past the mana inspection hallway, where the scanner hissed once and glowed blue.

[Authorized: Lucen Ivara – Drift Rank A Pending]

[Notice: Mana field elevated. Fatigue detected.]

[Recommendation: Medical eval – deferred.]

Lucen ignored it. He smelled like burnt copper and old vents, and his shoulder still ached from deflecting Bo’s last glyph. But he didn’t walk like it. His posture said ’barely bothered.’ His hair said ’electrocuted on the way here.’

He made it to the internal briefing floor in under three minutes. Elevators were slow, so he took the stairs. Fourth floor. Eastern wing. Gabe’s division. Her door was open.

Lucen walked in.

She didn’t look up at first.

"Unless this is on fire," she said dryly, "I need ten seconds to finish this sentence."

Lucen stood in the doorway. Sword still strapped lazily across his back, jacket half-off his shoulder, blood from Bo’s trap spell drying along one sleeve.

He said: "Does ’fake solo mission with embedded agent from Drift Audit trying to sniff my stats’ qualify as fire?"

Gabe looked up.

Paused.

Then tapped her tablet off.

"...Sit."

Lucen sat.

She didn’t speak right away. Just looked at him. Not like she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth, but like she already knew he was, and was trying to figure out how much paperwork it was going to take to make the problem vanish.

Lucen scratched the back of his neck.

"So. Fun solo mission. Crypts. Minor riftling spill. Also an embedded Drift Audit mole who tried to gauge my output stats with a fake surge event. I sword-fought him. He’s not dead. Sadly."

Gabe’s jaw clenched slightly.

"And you’re telling me this now."

"I had to walk the civilian out first."

Gabe stared at him. "...You had a civilian in the field?"

Lucen gestured vaguely. "Not my idea. They had him on delay magic. He was basically a prop."

Gabe muttered something under her breath. Then swiped her tablet open again. "Name?"

"Bo. Mid-twenties. Audit class, white badge, full glyph use, likes monologuing."

"Spell?"

"Sound-based illusions, tracing, and a ton of talking."

She tapped her screen.

"I have no log of a Bo on your mission manifest."

"Yeah. That’s because he piggybacked in under false clearance."

Gabe’s fingers stopped typing. Her face shifted from frustrated to lethal in half a second.

"And you handled it?"

Lucen leaned back in the chair. "Sword to the ribs. Warning issued. No lethal damage. Didn’t even set anything on fire."

"That last part is surprising."

"I know. I’m maturing."

Her eyes flicked to him. "Don’t."

Lucen held up his hands. "Just saying."

She tapped again. "Any footage?"

"My system scrubbed the interface data. And Bo was using a trace-null artifact. No direct overlay."

"Witnesses?"

Lucen pointed at his head. "Just me. And the now-traumatized teenager they used as a mana decoy."

Gabe pinched the bridge of her nose.

Lucen watched her quietly.

’She’s pissed. Not at me, though. At whoever authorized that piggyback. Which means she didn’t know it was happening.’

He filed that away.

She looked back up. "So he was probing your combat output?"

Lucen nodded. "Said I was ’anomalous.’ Which, by the way, rude."

Gabe muttered, "They’ve been nosing around drift irregulars lately. Looking for advanced spellcraft patterns that don’t match public guild records. Your file’s locked, but that doesn’t stop everyone."

"I noticed."

"And your reaction was to duel him in a crypt?"

Lucen grinned. "Lightly."

She stared.

He shrugged. "Just enough to get my point across."

Gabe tapped her stylus twice, then closed her tablet with a sharp flick. "You’re off solo queue for now. No unsupervised missions. I’m locking your deployment list."

"Hey," Lucen said. "You can’t just—"

"You’re young. You’re secretly at least S-Rank. And you just got target-listed by the same idiots who tried to black-bag a fire priest last month."

Lucen blinked. "Wait. They did what?"

"Don’t worry about it," she said. "He’s fine. Mostly. Has a stutter now."

"Not comforting."

"I’m not trying to comfort you. I’m trying to make sure you don’t get recruited into a think tank by force."

Lucen leaned forward. "They’re that desperate?"

"Drift’s getting worse. They’re looking for exceptions to the rule. Kids like you, who level without proper stat curves. Who don’t cast like they should."

Lucen looked thoughtful. "Maybe they should’ve just asked."

Gabe’s look was sharp. "Would you have told them?"

Lucen’s grin came back. "Not a chance."

She stood. "That’s why I’m locking your file tighter. No one else sees you move unless I say so. No observers. No third-party audits. I don’t care if the Arch-Mage himself wants to peek."

Lucen tilted his head. "That’s a little dramatic."

"You’re a little dramatic. I’m just keeping up."

She walked to the wall, punched a code into the security lock. The room sealed fully. Even the mana trace lights dimmed.

Then she turned and said, "Lucen. Be honest. Did you use anything new today?"

Lucen didn’t blink.

Didn’t smile.

He just said: "Sword lit up a little. Might’ve been... experimental."

She didn’t ask what that meant.

She didn’t want to know.

Instead she said: "You’re off grid for seventy-two hours. Recovery and review. No public movement. No mana trace over 1.2 threshold. Got it?"

Lucen saluted. "Yes, captain."

Gabe exhaled. "Don’t salute. It makes you look like a cultist."

Lucen dropped his hand. "Okay, but a really well-dressed cultist."

"Out."

Lucen turned to leave.

Before he stepped out the door, she said, "Lucen."

He paused.

She added, "Good work."

He didn’t look back. Just said: "You should’ve seen the other guy."

—

Lucen made it exactly seven steps out of the briefing room before he saw Varik leaning against the vending machine.

One arm folded. The other holding a half-open energy bar like it had insulted him. His coat was clean now. Boots scuffed, but not dusty. The kind of posture that said I’ve been here a while and also no, you weren’t getting past me.

Lucen stopped. Didn’t speak.

Varik raised an eyebrow.

Lucen raised both.

Silence.

The vending machine beeped once, low and mechanical, before dispensing a drink Varik hadn’t paid for.

He picked it up. Didn’t look at Lucen when he said, "You fought someone on a solo mission?"

Lucen shrugged. "Fought is strong. We had... creative disagreements."

"Spell class?"

"Sound manipulation. Minor glyphs. He used a silence dome."

"Strength class?"

"High-C or low-B. Probably trained. Wore way too much lotion."

Varik didn’t react. Just opened the bottle, drank, then said flatly: "And you fought him because?"

Lucen looked off to the side.

Then looked back.

Then said, "He was about to cast a spell in front of a kid. And also he was very punchable."