A Moment before the storm

Chapter 21: A Moment before the storm

Lucian felt the weight of Tigen's words settle in the cold air.

'Divalo.'

The name meant nothing to him. But to Eleanor?

The way her expression had hardened, the slight tension in her posture—this wasn't just another name.

This was something big.

Lucian opened his mouth to ask, but Tigen spoke first.

"You've trained hard enough for one night," he said, turning his gaze to Lucian. "Go home and rest. You'll need it."

Lucian frowned but didn't argue. His body was sore, and exhaustion was catching up to him.

Tigen then looked at Eleanor. His usually warm demeanor was gone, replaced by something colder, sharper.

"I'll explain in a bit," he told her. "But for now—just know that a six-man team will be leaving the Sanctroum soon."

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "Who's going?"

Tigen exhaled. "Me, three Silver Guards, one investigator from the sub-outpost… and a sixth spot yet to be decided."

Lucian felt a strange tightness in his chest.

'Why does this sound serious? And why does Eleanor look like she's about to punch someone?'

Lucian glanced at Eleanor, then at Tigen.

"Is this something too serious?" he asked dryly.

Tigen smirked slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not yet."

Lucian sighed. "Ah, alright then."

Tigen turned to him again, nodding toward the fog-covered streets.

"Go," he said. "You've done enough for today."

Lucian hesitated, then exhaled and nodded.

'Fine. I'll ask Eleanor about it later.'

He turned, stepping away from the outpost entrance, his boots soft against the damp stone path.

And after suffering through hell since entering the Silver Order, he finally felt different.

And as he walked further into the city, he decided to test it.

The streets of Alexandria were quiet at this hour.

Most people were still asleep, and only the occasional Silver Guard patrols passed through the misty roads.

Lucian rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms. His body was aching, but there was something new beneath the exhaustion.

A newfound Power.

It wasn't overwhelming, wasn't blinding—but it was there, flowing under his skin like a steady, cold flame.

Curious, he took a deep breath and let his silver energy pulse through his limbs.

A spark of strength shot through him instantly.

His muscles felt lighter, his movements sharper. He eyed the distance to his apartment—normally a twenty-minute walk.

'If I pushed my silver energy to its max… how fast could I make it?'

Excitement flickered in his chest.

He crouched slightly, then—Boom.

The moment he kicked off the ground, his entire body surged forward. The streets blurred.

The mist rushed past him, buildings flying by as his feet barely touched the ground.

Each step was stronger, faster, like his body was finally moving the way it was meant to.

Before he even realized it—He was already in front of his apartment.

Lucian came to a sudden stop, his breath catching in his throat.

"A minute. Maybe a bit more."

He looked down at his hands, still tingling with energy. He had never felt this fast before. Never felt this alive.

A grin tugged at his lips.

"Not bad."

He took a deep breath, exhaled, then shook off the thrill as he unlocked his door and stepped inside.

-------

The first thing Lucian did was head straight to the kitchen. His stomach was empty, and after everything, he needed a damn good meal.

Rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed the ingredients he had left—some pasta, fresh meat, and a few vegetables.

He moved on instinct, his hands working with ease as he chopped, boiled, and cooked.

The rich aroma of meat soup filled the air as the pasta simmered, the soft bubbling of the pot oddly comforting.

After everything that had happened, there was something nice about doing something so simple. He plated the food, sat down at the table, and took a bite.

The warmth spread through his body, easing some of the lingering exhaustion.

He let out a satisfied sigh.

'This is the best thing I've eaten in days.'

As he ate, his mind wandered back to training, to Eleanor, to Tigen's words.

'Who the hell is Divalo?'

Something about the name bothered him.

But that was a question for later. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy his damn food.

After finishing his meal and washing the dishes, Lucian headed to the bathroom.

The warm water soothed his sore muscles, steam filling the air as he leaned back against the tub.

After a long , very long time in what felt like weeks, he let himself relax.

His mind drifted as he stared at the ceiling, thinking about everything that had led up to this moment.

The pain of training. The endless days of exhaustion. The countless failures before finally breaking through.

But now he was stronger, He had finally reached the first layer.

And for the first time since waking up in this body, he felt like he was actually moving forward.

Lucian exhaled, sinking deeper into the water.

"I've come a long way. But this was just the beginning."

His gaze drifted to his own reflection in the water. A familiar yet unfamiliar face stared back at him.

Lucian Veyne. That was the name he had now.

But it was also the name of the person before him. Two lives, two versions of the same name.

He had inherited this life, inherited the struggles of the boy before him. And yet—he wasn't just the Lucian of this world.

He was still himself. His past life, his old self, still lingered inside him.

But who was he now?Was he Lucian Veyne of Nocturnal? Or was he the person he used to be, just inhabiting someone else's body?

The thought unsettled him. He wasn't sure if he had an answer.

But maybe, just maybe—it didn't matter.

He was here, and he was alive. And for now, that was enough.

Lucian let out a deep breath, closing his eyes as the steam wrapped around him.

Tomorrow, he'd figure out what came next.

But tonight, he would finally rest.

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Lucian lay sprawled across his bed, exhaustion pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. His limbs felt weighted, his body sore from the relentless training he had put himself through. The night outside was silent, save for the occasional rustle of wind slipping through the gaps in the window frame.

His thoughts drifted in and out, unfocused, hovering between wakefulness and the pull of sleep. His breathing slowed, the dim glow of the silver-lit lantern casting soft shadows on the ceiling. the heaviness behind his eyes grew unbearable, lucian drifted away in sleep.

It was well past 1 AM, and The last thing he remembered before surrendering to sleep was the faint hum of energy still thrumming beneath his skin—proof of the breakthrough he had worked so hard to achieve.

And then, the distant memory came in the form of a dream.

---

Lucian stood in the middle of a warm, sunlit room, an unfamiliar yet deeply familiar space. The wooden floors beneath him gleamed, polished from years of care, and the walls carried the faint scent of old books and fresh tea.

His gaze moved on its own, sweeping across the room, taking in the scene as if watching through someone else's eyes.

The kitchen was bustling—his mother at the counter, humming softly as she sliced fruit with practiced ease. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board blended with the distant ticking of a clock.

Near the window, his father sat, one leg crossed over the other, flipping through a newspaper with a disinterested expression. Every so often, he'd mutter something about the world being ridiculous, only to receive a playful scolding from the woman at the counter.

And on the floor, completely absorbed in a book, sat his sister.

A frown tugged at her brows, her fingers tightly gripping the edges of the pages as if willing the words to make more sense. A small pile of ink-stained notes sat beside her, evidence of a determined but overzealous mind at work.

"You're going to run out of ink if you keep writing like that," he heard himself say.

Without looking up, she shot back, "And you're going to run out of excuses for being lazy."

A quiet chuckle left his throat before he even realized it.

From the kitchen, his mother laughed, shaking her head. "She's not wrong."

Lucian—his past self—leaned against the back of a chair, grinning. "Life's too short to spend all of it working."

His father snorted from behind the newspaper. "Not if you waste all of it doing nothing."

There was something so simple about the moment, something ordinary yet irreplaceable.

It felt so right.

And then—**like a candle being snuffed out—**the warmth vanished, The golden light dimmed.

The edges of the room blurred into darkness. The laughter faded.

Before he could grasp onto it—The dream shattered.

Lucian's eyes opened with a sharp inhale, his chest rising and falling in slow, uneven breaths.

For a second, he lay still, staring up at the wooden ceiling, letting the remnants of the dream fade into reality.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, the only source of light a faint sliver of dawn filtering through the edges of the window.

He turned his head slightly, gaze flickering to the clock on the wall.

3:00 PM.

A slow blink. Then another.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Pushing himself upright, he ran a hand down his face, groggy from the unexpectedly long sleep. He never slept this late—not since arriving in Nocturnal.

His body felt heavier, not from exhaustion, but from the lingering weight of the dream.

The faces, the voices—they weren't fading this time.

"Why now?"

He exhaled, shaking his head. Dwelling on it wouldn't do anything. For now, he needed to get moving.

---

Lucian was Starting the Day at 3 PM

Kicking off the blanket, Lucian stretched his arms over his head, groaning at the stiffness in his muscles. The ache from last night's training still lingered, but it was different now—no longer overwhelming, just a dull reminder of how far he had pushed himself.

A hot shower helped ease the tension, the steam curling around him as he let the heat sink into his skin. He stayed under the water for longer than usual, thoughts drifting between the dream and the reality he was now living.

When he finally stepped out, dressing in his usual dark attire, he felt a little lighter.

Not entirely, but enough.

He had no obligations today. No training at the outpost. But still—he didn't feel like spending the entire day locked inside.

After all the relentless work he had put in, he figured he deserved something nice.

Something outside the usual rushed meals and training schedules.

And that meant one thing.

A damn good meal.

---

After strolling through the streets of Alexandria to choose a worthy place. He found one.

Lucian had passed by the high-end hotel restaurant several times before. It wasn't the kind of place most people went to casually, but today, he decided—why not?

He had trained hard. He had broken through. He had earned this.

And more importantly, He was starving.

The moment he stepped inside, he could tell he had made the right choice.

The air carried the scent of freshly baked bread, subtle spices, and something warm simmering in the kitchen.

Soft music played in the background, barely noticeable beneath the low hum of conversation. The lighting was gentle, casting a comfortable glow over polished tables and velvet chairs.

A waiter approached him with a polite nod.

"Table for one?"

Lucian returned the nod. "Yeah."

He was led to a quiet table near a large window, where the silver-lit lanterns reflected off the glass, blending seamlessly with the mist outside.

As he sat down, he leaned back in his chair, taking a slow breath.

"I should do this more often."

---

He wanted to have a meal, one good enough to make him feel happy for being alive.

The menu was extensive, but Lucian took his time.

Afterall unlike everyday, he wasn't just grabbing something simple out of convenience.

He browsed the selection, eventually settling on a rich vegetable stew, a plate of pasta drizzled in a creamy herb sauce, and an assortment of freshly baked bread.

No meat today. Just something light, fresh, and satisfying. When the food arrived, he paused for a moment, appreciating the sight and aroma before taking the first bite.

The stew was warm and hearty, the vegetables cooked to perfection, absorbing the deep, layered flavors of the broth.

The pasta Smooth, creamy, and rich, without being overwhelming. The herbs added just the right touch of freshness, making each bite feel balanced.

And the bread Soft on the inside, perfectly crisp on the outside.

Lucian let out a slow breath, sinking into the meal like a man who had been deprived of real food for weeks.

"This is the best thing I've eaten in Nocturnal."

Today, he wasn't rushing through a meal, wasn't eating just to sustain himself.

He was enjoying it, And after everything, That was enough.

---

After finishing his meal, Lucian stepped out of the hotel restaurant, stretching his arms as the cool air of Alexandria greeted him. The ever-present fog drifted lazily through the streets, wrapping the city in its usual haze.

It felt strange.

Ever since coming to Nocturnal, his days had been a cycle of exhaustion, pushing forward, and survival.

Now, with no urgent task looming over him, he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

But instead of overthinking, he decided—he'd just go wherever his feet took him.

---

Lucian was Wandering Through the City.

The streets of Alexandria had a different kind of beauty when he actually stopped to look.

He passed by bustling marketplaces, the scent of spices and fresh bread filling the air. Vendors called out to passing customers, trying to sell everything from exotic herbs to handcrafted trinkets infused with silver energy.

Lucian took his time browsing.

He stopped at a small bookstore, flipping through old tomes filled with handwritten notes from scholars long forgotten.

He passed by a glassmaker's shop, watching as a craftsman molded molten silver-glass into delicate ornaments.

At one point, he even found himself in a tea shop, where he spent nearly half an hour chatting with the old woman running the place. She had a sharp wit and a habit of smacking her customers lightly on the arm whenever they said something foolish.

Lucian had never been hit so many times in a single conversation.

By the time he left, he had a small pouch of silver-infused tea leaves tucked into his coat pocket. He wasn't even sure why he bought it—he wasn't a big tea drinker—but something about the way the old woman insisted it would "calm his stubborn mind" had made him buy it anyway.

---

As the evening light began to settle over the perpetual dawn of the city, Lucian finally paused, leaning against a railing overlooking one of the many silver-lit canals.

The day had been peaceful, A much-needed break. But as he gazed out at the mist-covered waters, a thought nagged at him.

Then, it hit him.

"Right. I promised Reze I'd buy her a drink."

A sigh left his lips. "Guess it's time to head to the outpost."

Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he turned away from the canal and started walking. The brief moment of peace was over.

Now, it was time to see the creature named reze that awaited him next.

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End of Chapter 21