CHP NO 16. LORD OF THE EXPERTS

"So, what did you guys talk about?" Sia asked casually as she scooped a bite of her food.

Lucius glanced up but didn't respond immediately, focused on his meal. He knew better than to talk with his mouth full—Sia absolutely despised it. She had made that clear on several occasions. He figured she was just asking to fill the silence, not expecting an actual answer.

A few moments passed, and Sia raised an eyebrow at his lack of response.

"Lucius."

He looked up, chewing a little faster, swallowing before speaking.

"You don't like people talking while eating," he pointed out.

"I don't like it when they talk while chewing," she corrected, setting her spoon down. "It makes their words sound disgusting. If you're done, speak." She gestured at him with two fingers, giving permission.

Lucius wiped his mouth with the napkin, then placed his fork neatly beside his plate.

"Nothing important, really. Just about the mission in general. I did try to ask more about mana beasts, but I didn't get much of an explanation." He exhaled, a little disappointed as he leaned back in his chair.

Sia hummed in response, tapping her fingers lightly on the table. A shadow passed over her face, her usual sharp expression darkening.

Lucius noticed. She already knows what I was really asking about…

"You still asked about the corrupted beasts, didn't you?" she stated, her voice lacking its usual playfulness.

Lucius held her gaze. He could've lied, twisted his words to make it sound like he wasn't digging too deep. But he didn't. That wasn't him.

"What's the point of hiding?" he said simply. "I didn't get any real answers anyway. And I don't like lying to you."

Sia's fingers stopped tapping. She blinked, slightly taken aback by the honesty. Then, after a moment, a small smile tugged at her lips.

"Hah. He's a terrible storyteller, isn't he?" she asked, her tone lighter now.

"And a much worse explainer," Lucius added immediately.

That made Sia chuckle.

She had known from the start that Lucius wouldn't just let this go. He was too sharp, too stubborn. It wasn't just curiosity—it was the way his mind worked. He analyzed, pieced things together, and refused to ignore gaps in knowledge. If she didn't step in, he'd uncover the truth on his own, bit by bit, whether she wanted him to or not.

And that would only distract him from what truly mattered—his training. He was already behind compared to other students his age. She had to make a decision before he wasted too much time chasing mysteries that wouldn't help him survive.

"Alright," she said finally, pushing her chair back. "Wash the dishes, then meet me in the living room. We're having an important conversation."

Lucius blinked in surprise but quickly nodded. He gathered the plates, careful not to clatter them, and carried them to the sink.

Sia leaned back slightly, watching him move.

Having someone to talk to, to observe, to admire… It's not such a bad feeling.

Her fingers grazed the rim of her cup, her thoughts lingering for just a moment longer.

Maybe… I need him more than he'll ever need me.

She closed her eyes briefly, then exhaled and stood up.

It was time to tell him the truth.

***

Sia gestured for Lucius to sit beside her. Without hesitation, he moved closer, leaving no space between them, his tiny hands latching onto her arm as he rested his head against her sturdy biceps.

"The food was amazing, you know. Thank you," he murmured.

Sia exhaled softly, her lips twitching into a rare, fond smile. She ruffled his hair for a solid minute, her fingers brushing through the strands with slow, deliberate motions. Lucius leaned into the warmth, tightening his grip around her arm. A light kiss landed on the top of his head, and he stilled for a moment before relaxing further, feeling the quiet comfort her presence provided.

Then, her tone shifted.

"The corrupted beasts are unnatural anomalies among mana beasts," she began, her voice taking on a serious weight. "Each mana beast species has a purpose—survival, reproduction, ensuring their lineage continues. But the corrupted ones…" She paused. "They don't follow this fundamental law."

Lucius' brows furrowed.

"They attack their own kind for no reason. They enjoy torturing their victims, slaughtering them for pleasure. Normal mana beasts only hunt for three purposes: to grow stronger, to feed, or to protect themselves and their kin. But the corrupted? They do none of these things. They don't eat their prey, they don't absorb mana cores for growth, and they cannot reproduce—yet their numbers keep increasing. They're a danger not just to adventurers but to the very ecosystem they exist in."

Lucius blinked, his mind already working through the contradiction.

"That doesn't make sense. If they can't reproduce, how are there more of them?"

Sia let out a slow breath, shaking her head.

"That's the biggest mystery. Even Verdun's top officials have no answers. There are theories, but nothing concrete. And the worst part? These corrupted creatures seem to be triggering unnatural growth in regular mana beasts as well."

Lucius narrowed his eyes.

"Like the Ghost Bear?"

Sia nodded.

"You remember it, right? The one I killed?"

Lucius crossed his arms, his tone turning a little smug. "You mean the massive beast you slaughtered single-handedly? Yeah, of course I remember."

Sia rolled her eyes at his pride on her behalf but smirked nonetheless.

"That Ghost Bear displayed an ability no one has ever recorded before—the ability to distort perception. Ghost Bears are infamous for two things: their stealth and their kill-or-be-killed mentality. Never once has any adventurer mentioned them using an ability like that."

Lucius' expression hardened.

"Then there was the Sentrox—the one we thought was a Wendigo."

Sia nodded. "It used Partial Sacrifice—a technique that allows a beast to spare its life while dealing maximum damage at close range. That level of ability is something only high-ranked mana beasts should be capable of using. But that Sentrox? It was only a B+ ranked creature."

Lucius tilted his head. "Wait. I thought it was a Wendigo?"

Sia exhaled, rubbing her temple.

"No. That thing was a Sentrox. People mistook them for Wendigos for over a century because the real Wendigos were thought to be extinct. But that's no longer the case."

Lucius fell silent, the weight of her words settling in.

A moment later, his curiosity flared again.

"By the way, what's with the + and - rankings? I hear you use them a lot."

Sia blinked, then sighed, straightening her posture before explaining.

"Let's say you're a B-rank adventurer. You've been one for years, and you're right on the verge of reaching A-rank. That would make you a B+ adventurer. It's a way to measure the gradual increase of strength within a rank. Just because two people hold the same rank doesn't mean they're equally strong—some are at the peak of their tier, while others are just getting started."

Lucius nodded in understanding.

"How do people figure out those sub-ranks? I doubt anyone just walks around telling people how strong they are."

"Mana signature," Sia replied. "Its intensity and the weight of presence it carries."

Lucius stilled, the answer slotting neatly into place in his mind. That's why people always try to sense my mana first before treating me like trash… Your mana is your first impression, not the words you speak.

Sia watched his face shift, noting the realization settle in.

"Regardless," she continued, "the problem is clear. These corrupted beasts are forcing regular mana beasts to evolve. Their numbers are growing, and so is their strength. If this continues unchecked…" She let the words hang, letting Lucius piece together the inevitable conclusion.

"The empire will be at risk," he murmured.

Sia leaned back, her crimson eyes dark and unreadable. "Exactly."

Lucius exhaled sharply, gripping the fabric of his pants. He wasn't sure what scared him more—the fact that the corrupted beasts seemed to have no origin, or the reality that they were forcing the world around them to grow stronger, evolving in ways no one could predict.

A long silence stretched between them.

Sia eventually broke it.

"The key is information," she said. "We need to learn how these creatures are appearing, where they're coming from, and why they're affecting other mana beasts. Until we find those answers, there's only one thing we can do."

Lucius lifted his gaze, awaiting her answer.

Her eyes gleamed with sharp resolve.

"We hunt. We kill our prey."

Lucius swallowed, nodding. His grip on her arm tightened, but this time, it wasn't for comfort.

It was for resolve.

***

"Tomorrow, be ready by noon—we're visiting the orphanage."

Lucius, who had been resting his head on Sia's lap, jolted upright. His eyes widened in surprise, his barely contained shock evident on his face.

Sia took note of his reaction, watching his expression shift before she let out a small chuckle.

"You're joking," Lucius muttered, crossing his arms.

"I'm not," Sia replied, amused by how defensive he became. "My friends and I donate food, clothes, and other essentials to the orphanage regularly. We also provide monetary support to the caretaker—a tough old lady who looks after nearly a hundred children. To them, she's not just a caretaker; she's their mother."

Lucius stared at her, processing this unexpected information.

"Don't worry," Sia added, ruffling his hair. "It'll be fun. Besides, a change of environment is good for you."

Lucius grumbled under his breath, but the idea of visiting the orphanage stuck with him as they both went to sleep.

The next morning, Lucius woke up around nine—three hours earlier than necessary. Not for training. Not for study.

But because of that smell.

A sweet, rich aroma filled the house, invading his senses and drawing him toward the kitchen like an irresistible force. Inside, he found Sia at the counter, carefully shaping small, round sweets.

"What is that?" he asked, eyes gleaming with interest.

"A simple dish made from cashews and milk," Sia replied, not looking up from her work.

Lucius reached for one.

Sia smacked his hand away.

"You'll get to taste them with the other kids," she said firmly.

Lucius scowled, but the temptation was unbearable. The scent lingered in the air, taunting him. Frustrated, he stomped out of the house, needing fresh air to escape the absolute injustice of being denied those sweets.

Outside, dressed in simple, worn-out clothes, Lucius looked almost homeless. He didn't think much of it at first, but the way passersby glanced at him—some with mild curiosity, others with quiet judgment—made him self-conscious.

I should've changed first…

Turning back toward the house, he paused when something caught his eye—a man walking his puppy on a leash.

The puppy was medium-sized, a mix of black and white fur, its eyes full of life and mischief. It tugged against its leash, testing its owner's grip, ears perked at every new sight and sound.

Then, in one swift motion, it jerked free.

Before the owner could react, the puppy darted forward, fixated on a small flock of birds pecking at the ground. Moving with surprising stealth, it closed the distance in seconds.

Then, it struck.

Leaping into the flock, the puppy's jaws clamped around one unfortunate bird. It shook its head violently, sharp little teeth sinking in, pressing harder and harder. The bird flailed, wings beating frantically, but the puppy only tightened its grip, shaking again.

Lucius stood still, watching.

The owner finally ran over, pried the bird from the puppy's grasp, and smacked the pup in frustration.

The bird fluttered weakly, trying to escape. It failed. One wing hung limp—nearly torn apart. Within minutes, it died.

Lucius' gaze lingered on the lifeless body as the owner, now distracted by something else, walked away with his puppy in tow.

No concern. No care.

Just… moving on.

…Was that normal?

Lucius frowned. He had seen plenty of pets chase birds before, but they usually just played, never going this far. Yet, what had just happened made a strange sort of sense. The puppy wasn't malicious—it wasn't hunting for food or survival. It was simply acting on instinct. This was its first time outside. It was experiencing the world for the first time.

A thought clicked in his mind.

What if… that Wendigo near the border was doing the same thing?

The pieces slotted together unnervingly well.

The Wendigo—or rather, the S-ranked mana beast everyone assumed to be a Wendigo—had acted with chaotic unpredictability. It slaughtered without reason. It attacked adventurers, left bodies strewn across the area, and retreated before anyone could stop it.

It wasn't just hunting. It was exploring.

If corrupted beasts couldn't reproduce, then something—or someone—was creating them.

And if that was the case, then…

Lucius clenched his fists.

It wasn't just about the rising number of corrupted beasts anymore. The very nature of their existence suggested that somewhere, hidden in the shadows, something was actively spreading this corruption.

And that was far more terrifying than anything else.

I need to tell Sia.

Turning back toward the house, he glanced up at the sky. There were still two hours left before they had to leave. He could use that time to study the books Sia had bought him.

He sighed.

He hated theory.

But at the very least, gaining knowledge—any knowledge—was better than sitting around doing nothing.

With that, he stepped inside, his mind still buzzing with possibilities.

***

"Honestly, I expected it to be bigger…"

Lucius spoke his thoughts aloud as they stood in front of the orphanage entrance.

The building before them was unremarkable—larger than Sia's house, sure, but nothing grand. A spacious yard stretched around it, complete with trees, open play areas, and even a small pond off to the side. It was… simple. Functional. Not the massive, towering structure he had imagined.

"Says the little one…"

Rebecca muttered, not even sparing him a glance.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, ready to snap back, but Sia calmly placed a hand on his shoulder—a silent warning. With a begrudging nod, he let it go, though his glare stayed firmly locked on Rebecca, who didn't seem to care in the slightest.

They stood in a small group at the entrance—Sia, Rebecca, Vice-Captain Mercy, and Lucius himself—each carrying gifts. But Lucius' attention kept drifting to the one in Sia's hands: the box of sweets. His fingers twitched with the urge to steal one.

Before he could act, the door opened.

An elderly woman greeted them with a warm smile. She looked to be in her sixties, her posture slightly hunched, her face lined with deep wrinkles. Despite her age, remnants of youth still clung to her features, as if time hadn't entirely claimed her yet. She wore a simple grayish gown, her feet in modest slippers designed for comfort rather than appearance.

"Good afternoon, my child," she said kindly. "Please, come in. This place belongs to you as much as it belongs to me."

Her voice carried warmth, yet when her gaze landed on Lucius, something shifted.

Lucius felt it instantly. A cold prickle ran down his spine, his instincts bristling in warning.

What is this feeling…?

For a brief moment, the world seemed quieter—like the air around him had thickened. But just as quickly as it came, the sensation passed.

"All the children are outside playing," the woman continued, speaking to the group. "Please, make yourselves at home—especially you, dear Rebecca."

Rebecca scoffed. "I am at home, Elder Ninia."

Ninia only chuckled.

As they handed over the gifts, she expressed her gratitude, insisting that they personally give them to the children.

Then Mercy spoke.

"Elder Ninia, if I may—"

"Yes, yes… and maybe… No, my dear."

Mercy immediately nodded. "Understood, my lady. No further questions."

Lucius blinked.

"Wait… what just happened?"

His eyes darted to Sia, expecting some kind of explanation. But she remained silent, her expression unreadable. No one questioned the cryptic exchange—just accepted it as if it were normal.

Then, Ninia gestured for them to head outside.

All except Lucius.

Sia hesitated, but Mercy gave her a reassuring look before practically dragging her toward the children. Rebecca followed without question.

That left Lucius standing before the old woman, his hands awkwardly clasped behind his back.

"Lucius, is it?" Ninia said as she moved to a chair beneath the shade of a large tree. She sat with the ease of someone who had lived a long life, her tired bones settling into place. "A fine name, my child."

Lucius stiffened.

"I'm not your child, ma'am." His tone was blunt, direct.

Ninia chuckled softly, a raspy laugh that turned into a light cough.

Lucius, who had a small water bottle in his pocket, hesitated before handing it to her.

She took it with a nod of thanks, sipping slowly before speaking again.

"Tell me, child… do you know what your name means?"

Lucius tilted his head, unimpressed. "I don't care."

Ninia ignored his response.

"Your name means the first light—like the sunrise that breaks after the longest, darkest night."

Lucius frowned.

He had never given much thought to his name. It was just a name. But hearing it phrased like that… it sounded almost important.

Yet, before he could dwell on it, Ninia's gaze turned sharp.

"But unlike your name," she continued, her voice lowering, "your fate is shrouded in darkness—deeper than anything I've seen before."

Lucius' breath hitched.

His body tensed instinctively, every fiber of his being telling him to back away.

Ninia's words didn't sound like a mere prediction. They felt certain, absolute—like she was glimpsing something she shouldn't.

The unease in his chest swelled into something heavier, something wrong.

Without thinking, Lucius took a step back.

Then another.

His instincts screamed at him to run.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?"

Lucius flinched at the sudden voice behind him.

A tall, well-built man stood there, clad in knight armor—Sir Edward.

Before Lucius could react, Ninia gave a small smile.

"Sir Edward, please take this child to the others. Sia and the knights are waiting."

Edward nodded. Without another word, he took Lucius by the arm and gently but firmly led him away.

Even as he was pulled toward the other children, Lucius couldn't stop staring back at the old woman.

Then, just before they turned the corner, he saw her lips move.

"Return when you're ready, my little one."

Lucius' blood ran cold.

How does she know what Sia calls me…?

His hands clenched as he looked away, forcing himself to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

He didn't care what she meant. He didn't care about her riddles.

All he knew was one thing:

He never wanted to see that woman again.

***

"Lucius! Where were you?!"

Sia's voice struck the air like a whip the moment she spotted him with Edward.

Lucius blinked. What's up with her? I was only gone for, what, ten minutes—

His thoughts screeched to a halt.

The sun was gone.

The sky, once bright, had faded into the deep hues of early evening. The last remnants of sunlight clung desperately to the horizon, casting long, stretched-out shadows.

What the hell…?

His stomach twisted.

That wasn't possible.

He'd been with Elder Ninia for mere minutes—ten at most. So why did it feel like hours had passed?

Before he could make sense of it, Edward spoke.

"Lady Sia, he was occupied with me. Right, Lucius?"

Lucius hesitated, then nodded. He had no reason to lie, but something in Edward's tone told him to play along.

Who even is this guy…?

Lucius studied him. Edward was taller than Sia but shorter than Mercy. He had a well-groomed beard, jet-black hair—just like Lucius himself—and a mature, relaxed expression. He carried himself with an air of quiet confidence, the kind that came from years of experience.

Before Lucius could dwell on it, his gaze shifted to two children standing between Mercy and Rebecca.

One was a boy with long golden hair. His eyes were striking—one completely black, the other a swirling mix of blue and black.

The other was a girl, much simpler in appearance—cute, with sky-blue eyes and delicate white hair.

White hair…? Lucius' mind raced. Isn't that hair color common in the north?

As if sensing his thoughts, Edward gently nudged him forward, escorting him toward the rest of the knights.

Sia exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "I'm just glad he was with you," she muttered. "I wouldn't trust him with anyone else, especially not with a Lord of Experts, of all people!"

Lucius stiffened.

Wait. What?

His brain struggled to keep up. Lord of Experts? That old hag…?

Before he could open his mouth, Sia was all over him, checking his arms, his face, his pulse—

"Enough, Sia," Mercy cut in, smirking. "Let the boy breathe."

Lucius seized the chance to escape, darting toward Mercy's side.

"Thanks," he muttered, still shaken. "I owe you one."

Mercy just winked in response before turning toward the two unfamiliar kids.

"Lucius, meet Lavya and Sara," he said. "Lavya's a year older than you, and Sara's just a few months younger."

An awkward silence settled between them.

Lucius didn't care much for small talk.

Lavya, with his slightly arrogant posture, clearly had no intention of speaking first.

Sara, on the other hand, looked shy—her hands clenched together, her gaze flickering between them uncertainly.

The three of them were expected to get along.

None of them wanted to.

***

An hour later, visiting hours came to an end. The knights bid their farewells, splitting up as they went their separate ways.

On the way back, Sia mentioned she needed to stop by Market Road to pick up ingredients for dinner. Lucius, still drained from the day's events, had no desire to follow her through the crowded streets.

Edward noticed and offered, "I'll drop him off."

Sia agreed without hesitation. A silent exchange of trust passed between them—something Lucius took note of.

He didn't mind either.

Not after what happened with Elder Ninia.

Mercy and Rebecca left first, heading off to their duties. Sia assured Lucius she'd be back within an hour. And just like that, he and Edward were left alone, walking side by side in sync.

Silence stretched between them, comfortable yet expectant.

Then, Edward spoke.

"You're weak and insignificant… yet interesting."

Lucius nearly tripped over his own feet. He shot the older man a glare. "And you're weird," he retorted, keeping his tone respectful—mostly.

Edward smirked. "No, no, I'm not trying to insult you. I mean, come on, you're already an insult."

Lucius clenched his jaw. What is this guy's deal?

"But," Edward continued, his smirk fading, "not just Sia, but even Elder Ninia took interest in you. That's something worth noting."

Lucius furrowed his brows. Elder Ninia?

"You don't know, do you?" Edward glanced at him. "She was once a Lord of Experts. Mysterious abilities, immense respect—some admired her, others feared her. Then, about a decade ago, she just… retired. Said her ability was gone. Called herself nothing more than an old woman with a sore back." He chuckled at that.

"But here's the thing—since her retirement, she's nurtured some of the strongest figures in the city. Vice-Captain Mercy, Lady Jhansi… many others. And yet, despite raising so many, she never truly cared for any of them. It was like she was just doing a job—fulfilling a duty assigned to her."

Edward's gaze sharpened. "Then you came along."

Lucius stiffened.

"To think, someone as weak as you held her attention for hours."

Lucius' stomach dropped.

"Wait—hours?" His breath caught. We barely exchanged a few words!

A slow, creeping horror crawled up his spine. He didn't remember anything beyond their brief conversation. Nothing about "hours." Nothing at all.

His fists clenched.

Edward watched him closely, as if gauging his reaction. Lucius forced himself to remain calm, to keep his posture relaxed, his face neutral—despite the panic roaring in his mind.

Edward hummed. "Well, whatever it is, you don't want to share. I get it." He gave a casual shrug. "So, what about your future? Any decisions yet? Joining the knights? Adventuring? Maybe enrolling in a prestigious academy in one of the big cities?"

Lucius hesitated, even though he already knew his answer.

Edward seemed to read his mind. "Ah. The path of an adventurer, then." He nodded. "Makes sense. Your mentor was one, after all."

They walked in silence as Lucius processed everything.

Then, just as they reached the entrance of his home, the air around Edward shifted.

Lucius felt it immediately. His body tensed, instincts screaming at him to move. He stumbled back a few steps, his heart pounding as a crushing pressure—an aura—pushed against him.

Edward exhaled softly, reining it back in. "…Oh. My sincere apologies, little one." He smiled, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. "You're special, I'm afraid."

Lucius, still catching his breath, scowled. "Special? In what sense? I mean, look at me—I have no class, no elemental affinity, and my mana core is—" He cut himself off. "Well, never mind. You already know."

Edward chuckled. "And yet, you are special. I don't know why, but I know." His expression turned thoughtful. "My assessments are never wrong, Lucius."

Lucius met his gaze, searching for some kind of answer—but found none.

Edward sighed. "It's been a long day. Especially for you." He stepped back. "Rest. Recover. And train like hell—every day, as if your life depends on it." His tone turned serious. "Because trust me, it just might."

Lucius swallowed hard.

Edward gave him one last look before turning away. "I'll visit every now and then."

And just like that, he was gone.

Lucius stood there, mind spinning.

He didn't understand what any of this meant.

But deep down, beneath the confusion and unease, a small part of him—just a little—felt satisfied.

Someone like Edward thought highly of him.

Lucius smirked to himself.

Fine. He'd train like hell.

***

The candlelight flickered gently, casting long shadows across the dimly lit room.

Elder Ninia sat comfortably in her chair, a thick book resting open on her lap. Her eyes glided over the pages, though her senses had already caught the presence at the edge of her chamber.

"Lord Edward Greenwich." Her voice was calm, conversational. "I certainly did not expect you to show up this late, unannounced—and with that kind of aura…" She turned a page. "Do you not fear a slow, painful death, my dear?"

Edward stood at the foot of her bed, silent.

His weapon hummed at his side, cloaked in a crackling sheath of blue mana. The energy sparked faintly, like caged lightning.

Ninia continued reading, undisturbed. "Hmm…" A pause. "Who are you?" Her fingers traced the worn edges of the paper. "You are not the child I once raised. The presence is familiar… yet foreign."

Edward did not speak.

He did not move.

Then—

ZUUUUP.

He vanished.

As if he had never stood there to begin with.

The room fell back into silence.

Ninia exhaled slowly, her gaze lowering to the thin, red line running across her cheek. A single droplet of blood trickled downward, rolling toward her lips.

She caught it with the tip of her finger.

And smiled.

A message had been delivered.

A message meant only for her.