CHAPTER 41: EXIT

Lucen stepped out first.

Cold air hit him like a wet slap. Not clean cold, more like city cold. Metal and dust and ozone left over from ten thousand bad enchantments. The kind of cold that stuck behind your ears.

His boots hit pavement.

Still cracked.

Still half-sunk in old rail lines and the smell of engine oil and dead moss.

Behind him, the others came through. One blink at a time.

Senna. Mira. Callen.

All alive. Mostly upright.

Lucen didn’t look at them yet.

He was looking at the man leaning against the broken terminal post with a half-eaten rice ball in one hand.

Gen.

Same long coat. Same lazy smile.

Like he’d just stepped out for a snack and found his favorite TV show walking back to him covered in dirt and blood.

Lucen frowned. "You didn’t move."

Gen took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. "You didn’t die."

"Not for lack of trying."

Mira groaned and flopped onto a bench that looked like it hadn’t supported weight in a decade. "Please tell me this neighborhood has coffee."

Gen nodded toward the far street. "Half-burnt café. Run by a clairvoyant with anger issues. You’ll love her."

Callen limped up behind Lucen. He didn’t speak. Just gave Gen a long, suspicious look.

Senna crossed her arms. "The gate’s closed. It shouldn’t have done that on its own."

Gen shrugged. "Unregistered drifts tend to handle their own exits. Especially ones that old."

Lucen narrowed his eyes. "You knew it was that old?"

"Had a hunch."

Lucen exhaled through his nose. "Your hunch almost got us killed."

"Did it though?"

Lucen didn’t answer.

Gen looked over the group, then back at Lucen.

"You picked up something in there. Didn’t you?"

Lucen blinked.

Then schooled his face.

Gen didn’t press. Just smiled a little wider.

Lucen hated that smile.

He stepped forward, close enough that he could smell the cheap starch on Gen’s collar. "You want a report, write a paycheck."

Gen grinned. "Fair."

Mira stood back up and adjusted her bow strap. "So what now?"

Gen dusted his hands and tossed the rice ball wrapper into a bin that missed by a foot. "Now we walk. Your ride’s waiting."

"Ride?" Lucen asked.

Gen nodded. "Clean car. Real plates. A healer in the backseat with two half-charged patches and a grudge against drama. I’m not saying she’ll fix you nicely, but she’ll probably make you stop bleeding in a few places."

Callen raised a hand weakly. "Sold."

Senna glanced at Lucen, then Gen. "You set this up before we went in."

"Of course," Gen said. "You don’t plan for chaos. You anticipate survival."

Lucen muttered, "And you eat lunch while we fight for our lives."

Gen smiled again. "I multitask."

Lucen sighed.

His system chimed softly.

[Drift Exit Confirmed]

[EXP Gained: +32]

[System Observation: Mana Recovery Active]

[Passive Drain Residue: 3% Remaining]

Lucen closed the window.

His mana was climbing back up. Slowly. Felt like stretching sore muscles in reverse.

He looked up at the sky.

Still gray. Still wrong.

And yet it felt clearer somehow.

Like the weight of the drift hadn’t followed them out.

Senna was already walking toward the street. Mira followed.

Callen limped behind them.

Lucen didn’t move yet.

Gen tilted his head. "Something wrong?"

Lucen didn’t answer.

He just stared at the empty spot where the gate had been.

—

The street past the terminal was quiet.

Too quiet.

No cars. No foot traffic. Just the wind making soft hiss sounds through broken signs and half-dangling wire. The kind of quiet that felt too clean after a fight. Like the world hadn’t decided yet whether they were still real.

Lucen adjusted his bag on one shoulder and followed the others.

Callen was moving stiffly. Senna kept a pace just ahead of him, not looking back, but her eyes flicked sideways at every alley they passed.

Mira was already scanning rooftops like she expected something to leap down and ruin her afternoon.

Lucen didn’t blame them.

His nerves still hadn’t shut off. His system buzzed low in the corner of his vision, like it wanted to ask him something but was waiting until he sat down.

Behind him, Gen hummed a tune that didn’t belong to any known genre.

"You’re not limping," Lucen muttered without turning.

"Nope."

"Or breathing hard."

"Should I be?"

Lucen rolled his eyes. "You didn’t even peek in the gate. You don’t get to hum."

Gen laughed softly. "I kept the getaway warm. That counts."

Lucen glanced sideways. "Where exactly is this car?"

Gen pointed a thumb toward the next block. "Right turn past the burned-out bakery. Silver Aegion. Plates end in 4-Z-R."

Lucen frowned. "You memorize your plates?"

"I memorize everything. Occupational hazard."

Senna slowed as they neared the corner. One hand on her sword hilt. Not drawn. Just ready.

Lucen could still see the blood dried near her wrist. It flaked slightly as she flexed her fingers.

She nodded once, turned the corner, and stopped.

Lucen followed and blinked.

There it was.

A silver Aegion. Real. Clean. Not hover-tier or new-gen, but respectable. No obvious damage. No glowing glyph locks or fake decals. Just tinted windows and a faint mana pulse in the core.

Someone leaned against the hood.

Woman. Mid-thirties maybe. Hair tied back in a messy twist. Oversized jacket. Mana patch case open on the trunk. She was peeling something that looked suspiciously like gum off the side mirror with one gloved hand.

Lucen paused.

The woman looked up.

Her eyes were golden. Not like system-gold. Just... actual gold. Shimmered slightly, even in the gray light.

Gen called, "Taira!"

She did not smile. "You’re late."

"We’re alive."

She tilted her head. "Barely."

Callen slumped against the passenger door. "Are you the healer?"

"No. I’m the chauffeur," she deadpanned. "Get in. You bleed on the seat, you owe me upholstery."

Mira slid into the back without comment.

Senna followed her, glancing once at the rooftops before pulling the door closed.

Callen was slower. He winced as he ducked into the front passenger side.

Lucen lingered outside.

Taira eyed him. "You the caster?"

Lucen didn’t blink. "Define caster."

She smirked. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

Gen opened the opposite door and leaned in. "Middle seat’s yours. No snacks. No complaints."

Lucen exhaled and climbed in.

The door thunked shut behind him like it meant it.

Inside smelled like copper, leather, and cheap cinnamon spray. The seats were worn but clean. The mana stabilizer in the dashboard buzzed faintly, keeping the ambient pressure balanced.

Taira got in last and started the engine with a rune-tap.

It purred to life. Smooth. Quiet.

Lucen glanced sideways at Senna. Her eyes were closed now. Not asleep. Just... breathing. Mira was rubbing her shoulder like it hurt more than she wanted to admit. Callen had one arm across his stomach, eyes on the dash, expression unreadable.

Lucen sat still.

Gen was humming again.

Lucen said, "If you hum that one more time, I’m hexing your kneecaps."

Gen chuckled. "You don’t know any hexes."

Lucen stared out the window.

’Yet.’