CHAPTER 73: NEWS

Lucen didn’t move for a while.

His shoulder leaned against the wall. One leg stretched out. The other bent just enough to balance a cheap remote on his knee.

He stared forward.

Then reached up. Clicked the power button.

The screen lit the room in soft gray.

[Metro Feed 7 – Evening Digest]

Same anchor from earlier. Still wearing the same too-bright tie. Still pretending the world wasn’t on fire twenty-four hours a day.

Lucen turned the volume up halfway. Just enough to hear the edges of things.

"—citywide stabilizers are now re-engaging following the localized drift rupture in the 7th Transit District. Authorities confirm the anomaly has been contained. No confirmed fatalities. Eight injured. Two in serious condition."

Lucen blinked once.

Sat up straighter.

The footage cut to grainy aerial drone cam.

The street below. His street.

A crater still cooling in the center. Cleanup crews moving like ants across the debris.

A familiar shape stood near the edge.

Lucen tilted his head.

Then leaned forward.

That shape?

That was him.

Coat singed. One sleeve still smoldering. Hand raised mid-glyph.

The footage paused. Zoomed.

[Unidentified Awakened – Classification: Pending]

"Eyewitnesses say the unidentified spellcaster was the first to respond," the anchor continued.

"Authorities are investigating whether this individual is tied to the civilian guild group operating unofficially in Zone Six. No ID has been confirmed."

Lucen’s face didn’t show clearly.

But it was close.

Too close.

He dropped the remote into his lap.

’...Are you serious.’

Another clip played. This time from ground level.

Someone’s phone, clearly. Shaky. The angle was bad, but his posture was recognizable.

Spell flare lit the frame. Crater Bloom.

The sound on the video was worse. Screaming. Spells. Cracks of stone.

Lucen rubbed one hand down his face.

"That is not how I look in person."

The anchor kept talking.

"Some analysts are calling this an unofficial Tier-B classification response. Possibly A-class. Possibly higher. The Awakened Guild Oversight Bureau has issued a formal statement requesting any information on the individual involved."

Lucen stood up.

Walked to the kitchen. Opened a cabinet. Closed it again without grabbing anything.

He leaned forward on the counter.

’Well. So much for low profile.’

The screen behind him played one last line.

"—and while the city continues its investigation, some are calling this mystery caster a hero. Others... a threat."

Lucen let his head fall forward slightly.

Rested his forehead on the cabinet door.

Then said, quietly, to no one.

"I am never helping anyone again."

—

Lucen hadn’t moved from the counter.

His forehead still rested against the cabinet.

He let the silence stretch.

Then his phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

He didn’t check it.

Third buzz, this one longer.

He reached for it.

Gen.

Lucen stared at the name.

’Five minutes. That’s how long it lasted.’

He accepted the call. Didn’t speak.

Gen’s voice came through flat and unimpressed.

"So. Mystery caster."

Lucen rubbed his eyes with one hand. "I hate you."

Gen laughed. "No you don’t. You hate being caught."

Lucen sat back down on the edge of the couch. Remote still where he left it.

"I didn’t exactly sign up for a cameo."

"City’s on fire," Gen said. "You lit the match, but everyone’s clapping."

"I wasn’t trying to impress anyone."

"No, but you didn’t exactly stay in the shadows either."

Lucen stared at the paused screen. His own shape in the center, mid-spell.

"They zoomed in. Like frame-by-frame enhanced. Who does that?"

"People who want a name," Gen said. "You just gave them one."

Lucen exhaled through his nose. "Still think I should’ve pretended to trip and die?"

"Honestly? Might’ve helped the mystique."

Lucen leaned back. Let his head rest against the top of the couch.

"You’re calling to make fun of me?"

"No," Gen said. "I’m calling to let you know every guild in a hundred kilometer radius just opened a folder with your picture in it."

Lucen didn’t speak.

"Also," Gen added, "Taira said she wants royalties if they start using your silhouette on mugs."

Lucen rolled his eyes. "She’s not even subtle."

"She’s efficient. Also, you owe me fifty."

"For what?"

"Not telling Mira."

Lucen sat up straight. "You told Mira?"

"Not yet. That’s why it’s fifty."

Lucen closed his eyes.

Gen’s tone softened just slightly.

"You alright?"

Lucen didn’t answer right away.

"Yeah. Just tired of pretending."

There was a beat of quiet on the other end.

Then Gen said, "Good. Then stop."

Lucen opened his eyes.

Looked at the static image on the screen again.

Smoke. Light. The faint silhouette of a boy too fast to ID, too stupid to run.

He muttered, "They’ll start digging."

Gen’s voice was calm. "Then bury them first."

Lucen didn’t smile.

But his fingers curled faintly into a fist on the couch.

Gen said, "You gonna answer the messages coming in?"

Lucen checked the corner of his screen.

[Notifications: 38 Unread]

He sighed. "Eventually."

Gen chuckled. "Right. Well. Try not to level up without warning next time."

Lucen hung up.

Didn’t say goodbye.

Just stared at the screen another second.

Then finally opened his system window.

[356 / 400 EXP]

He tapped the overlay.

Started thinking ahead.

—

Then he opened the messaging tab.

Thirty-eight unread.

He scrolled.

Half of them were numbers he didn’t recognize. The other half were even worse—numbers he did recognize but hadn’t spoken to in years.

He tapped open the first.

Yo was that you? You’ve got the same walk. Can’t fake that.

Second one.

Saw you in the broadcast loop. Flame spike and frost blade? You’re not just a tracer, are you?

Lucen sighed. Didn’t reply.

Next.

I know that coat. You still use the warded cuffs from Grayhall?

His thumb hovered over block, then decided on mute.

The fourth was a guild logo. No text. Just an image drop and a contact card link labeled Echelon Tier Recruitment Pathway A-5.

He scrolled faster.

A burst of five texts came from a group thread he didn’t remember joining:

It’s gotta be him.

Didn’t he drop out?

He was always weirdly good with glyph speed.

Ask him how he compressed the midair burst.

LUCEN ANSWER OR I’M SENDING OLD PHOTOS TO THE MEDIA

Lucen snorted.

’Perfect. Weaponized blackmail. Totally normal day.’

He archived the entire thread.

Another message lit up as he was scrolling.