The Man Behind the Mask

Lucian and Rowan stood amidst the carnage, their breathing steady but their minds unsettled. The Orks lay lifeless around them, yet neither of them had truly dealt the final blow to most of them. Something unseen had interfered. And that uncertainty lingered like a shadow over the battlefield.

Then, they heard footsteps approaching from behind.

Both warriors tensed and turned instinctively, shifting into defensive stances. From between the trees, a lone figure emerged—a man cloaked in dark robes embroidered with silver patterns. He removed his robe, revealing a plain white shirt and black pants. His attire did not suggest nobility, but there was an air of quiet respectability about him. He moved with composed grace, his piercing blue eyes scanning the battlefield with an air of detached curiosity.

Lucian tightened his grip on his sword, and Rowan followed him, standing firm. The man, however, raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Rest easy, young warriors," he said in a deep yet soothing voice. "I mean you no harm."

Lucian said nothing, but his sharp gaze studied the stranger. Rowan, however, was less reserved. "Who are you?" he asked, his tone edged with suspicion.

The man smiled, exuding an aura of warmth and wisdom. "Magnus Ravencourt. A professor at the Ravenshade Eldermere Academy," he introduced himself, inclining his head slightly. "I was passing through when I heard the commotion. I arrived just in time to lend my aid."

Lucian and Rowan exchanged a glance. So, he was the one who had finished off the Orks. But how? No visible magic had been cast, no blade had swung. And yet, the Orks had died as if struck by an invisible force.

"You… helped?" Rowan asked, still skeptical.

Magnus chuckled. "Indeed. It would be irresponsible of me to stand by while potential students of the Academy risked their lives. Such talent should not be wasted."

Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Potential students?"

Magnus folded his hands behind his back, a gleam of interest in his gaze. "Your swordplay, your coordination, your unwavering resolve—you both possess remarkable talent. I would feel bad if I did not extend an opportunity to you two. Join the Ravenshade Eldermere Academy. With my recommendation, you would bypass the grueling entrance exams and secure a place among the elite."

Rowan's eyes widened, his entire posture lighting up. "Seriously? You mean—!"

"No."

Lucian's voice was calm but firm.

Rowan snapped his head toward his friend. "Wait—what?"

Lucian met Magnus' gaze. He hesitated for a moment, the offer tempting—too easy. But easy was not the path he had chosen. "I appreciate the offer, Professor, but I cannot accept. There are many who have spent years preparing for the entrance exams. To take a spot without proving myself in those trials would be unfair."

For the first time, Magnus seemed mildly surprised. Then, his lips curved into an approving smile. "A noble response. Rare in young warriors."

Rowan's excitement faltered, his expression turning to disappointment. "Lucian… are you sure? This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance!"

Lucian gave a slight nod. "If I am meant to be at the Academy, I will earn it."

Magnus let out a low chuckle. "Principled and talented. You are an interesting one, Lucian." He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Very well. The invitation still stands if you ever reconsider."

With that, he turned his gaze toward the survivors. The merchants and guards who had been too shaken to speak were now treating the wounded. Magnus walked past Lucian and Rowan, offering assistance where needed, his demeanor radiating kindness and authority.

Lucian watched him carefully. Something about Magnus felt… off. There was nothing overtly suspicious, but his instincts whispered that the man was far more than he seemed.

Then, his gaze shifted.

Among the survivors stood the girl who had been captured by the large Ork, her long wavy golden hair cascading down her back, framing a delicate face marred by a burn scar along her left eye. She always kept her scar hidden with her hair. Yet, even with the scar, she radiated a beauty that was almost ethereal. Her amber eyes, filled with both strength and vulnerability, locked onto Lucian's.

For the first time in a long while, Lucian felt his breath hitch.

The world around them faded, the sounds of the wounded and the whispers of gratitude to Magnus dimming. It was as if, in that moment, only the two of them existed.

She didn't speak. Nor did he. And yet, something unspoken passed between them.

Her amber eyes held a quiet storm—strength, pain, and something he couldn't quite name. The world dimmed around them, and for a fleeting second, Lucian forgot to breathe.

Magnus, now standing near the girl, glanced between the two before a knowing smile ghosted his lips.

And just like that, the moment was over.

Lucian turned away, composing himself. But even as they prepared to leave the battlefield, he knew one thing for certain.

He would never forget the way she looked at him.

To Be Continued...