FREER THAN EVERYONE

LUCIUS

"To think... You would fire your pulse from here... and I'd feel it all the way from Manisk Sector," I panted, breath sharp and ragged, hands braced against my knees. My lungs burned from the sprint — after all, I had crossed a three-hour journey in barely under one. Every muscle in my body screamed, but even that pain couldn't dim the rush of emotions swelling inside me.

"Only your aura carries that much weight... only you're that strong, Master," I added, my voice coming out rough, but filled with quiet pride.

Above me, on the thick, weathered branches of Buck — my personal favourite tree — Arcane sat with his usual effortless grace. The moonlight bathed him in silver, matching the calm gleam in his eyes. His long, jet-black hair, now loose, danced softly in the breeze like silk ribbons unravelling into the night. His robes were mostly the same as always: muted tones of red and white, stitched with familiar black patterns along the hem. Maybe a few tweaks here and there, but the heart of his attire, just like the heart of the man himself, remained untouched.

"And only you are skilled enough to pick up a pulse that faint," Arcane said, his voice carrying that same laid-back tone that never seemed to hurry, never seemed to break. "Good one, Lucius. You've grown stronger... I can tell."

Hearing those words stirred something fierce inside me — pride, maybe, or something older. Deeper.

It was still unbelievable to think that the man casually sitting above me, relaxed as the drifting clouds, was the same man who could stand toe-to-toe against the Apex Dragons of the Inner Rim.

Those dragons — the ancient rulers of the deepest regions — beings so terrifying that entire legions would crumble at the mere sight of them.

Yet here was Arcane, my master, capable of matching them without losing that easy, almost playful air about him.

For a moment, pure instinct screamed at me — telling me to kneel. To lower my head and pay respect to a being so far above me. I even tried to move, to will myself into that kneeling position...

But something inside me locked up.

A quiet resistance. A stubbornness that whispered that he wouldn't want that.

And I was right.

Arcane sighed, a small, amused sound escaping him. "Must I always repeat the same thing, Lucius? Don't kneel. Not before me," he said, patting the branch beside him.

"Come. Sit. I'm here to talk to a friend, not to lecture a student or lord over a servant. We have much to share... much to discuss."

I hesitated only for a second before I smiled — just a little — and lunged upwards, my body soaring into the air. I landed lightly beside him, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of the ancient Buck. Its thick, strong branches easily supported our combined weight, creaking slightly under the wind's touch but not under ours.

A small, respectful nod passed between us — a silent acknowledgement.

For a few heartbeats, neither of us spoke. We simply sat there, side by side, overlooking the shimmering lights of Varis in the far distance, the gentle hush of the wilderness beneath us.

Eventually, the memories came rushing back, unbidden but welcome.

"Remember that day... four years ago?" I began, my voice softer now. "When I was training inside Absolute Zero? That time I hadn't realised I could still use my mana senses while it was active..."

I chuckled quietly, rubbing the back of my neck.

"You were the one who pointed it out. Helped me discover it. That ability has saved my life more times than I can count. Honestly... you wouldn't even believe the situations it pulled me through."

Unlike now, where my senses were an extension of me, able to function even without conscious mana expenditure, back then, it had been raw, untapped potential.

And it was Arcane who first cracked it open.

Arcane leaned back lazily against the trunk, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Oh yes. I remember that evening well," he said. "I had climbed up here, simply wanting to catch the sunset from a different angle. And there you were... training your body, alone, forging strength through nothing but sheer will and muscle. No magic. No tricks. Just sweat, blood, and stubbornness."

He paused for a moment, his silver eyes gleaming faintly.

"I remember feeling it — that void around you. No circulation. No signature. It was... remarkable. Most would have missed it. I might have missed it, had I not been curious about the 'sunset from a different angle'," he added with a chuckle.

I laughed lightly as well, shaking my head. "Foolish is a kind way of putting it. I was reckless... But I'm grateful you found me."

Arcane's smile deepened, though there was something in his gaze now—something heavier.

"You were determined," he corrected gently. "And you still are. That ability you discovered — the ability to sense and move without needing active mana — it's not just rare, Lucius. It's godly-, I mean it's unnatural."

He hesitated — just for a breath — before adding something under his breath. "Ungodly... Perhaps. Hard to say sometimes."

That pause. That hesitation.

It wasn't the first time I had caught someone — even Sia — faltering around that word when talking about my abilities.

And somehow... I knew this wasn't just random phrasing.

There was something more. A truth buried under layers I had yet to peel back.

Before I could stop myself, I asked — my voice low but steady:

"Master... what exactly did you mean by that?"

The breeze stirred between us, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and distant rains.

Arcane didn't answer immediately. He simply closed his eyes, letting the moment stretch — a man weighing his words with the gravity they deserved.

I waited.

Because deep down, something told me...

Whatever he said next might change everything.

"I meant godly..." I said the word, lingering in the cool night air between us.

"My secrets — you, Sia, Mercy, and Edward know about them. Every single one of you has called my abilities unnatural, unbelievable, even impossible. Some went so far as to label them demonic."

I leaned forward slightly, watching Arcane carefully.

"But not godly. Never godly. And if anyone does say it by mistake, they correct themselves immediately, like it's taboo. Why?"

Genuine curiosity coated my voice.

Arcane knew the answer.

I could tell from the subtle shift in his posture — the way his fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, as if weighing how much to reveal.

I already understood: if he chose to tell me, he would. If not, no amount of pleading or demanding would crack him open.

He exhaled slowly, then asked instead, "Have you heard about the new candidate for the Saintess elections? The current one's stepping down in a few months."

It wasn't a change of topic.

No — this was connected, I could feel it in my bones.

"You mean Andromeda Skydagger? The Prodigy? The Champion of Verdun?" I replied immediately, recalling the few tidbits I knew.

"Yeah, I've heard of her. Sara admires her a lot. Though honestly? I don't really give a shit about her becoming Saintess or not. It's not like I'm ever gonna meet her."

Arcane gave a soft, amused chuckle, the kind that barely moved his lips.

"Damn... you're one informed kid, aren't you?" he said, voice fond but edged with something heavier.

He leaned back, eyes half-lidded in thought.

"Yeah, that's her. A prodigy through and through. The Champion. The one who'll almost certainly ascend to Saintess, further bolstering the Royal House of Skydagger's power."

His words were slow, deliberate, almost ceremonial.

Then he shifted, sitting a little straighter, his silver gaze locking onto mine.

"The reason I bring her up is simple: her powers," Arcane said.

"Her abilities are what we, we-the ones who know the truth, would call godly."

He let the word hang there for a moment, weighted with meaning.

"And yours," he added with a sly, almost playful smirk, "are what we would call ungodly. Wanna know why?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued without waiting.

"It's because her connection to mana is... exceptional. Overwhelming. And more importantly..." He tapped two fingers against his chest for emphasis. "It carries traces of divinity."

I blinked. That... didn't immediately make sense.

Arcane noticed the confusion flicker across my face and smiled ruefully, running a hand through his hair as if searching for a simpler way to explain.

"Look," he said, "your connection to mana is strong, no doubt about that. But there's a fundamental difference: you're not reliant on mana like the rest of us." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"If mana disappeared tomorrow, just blinked out of existence, every sentient being would die. Humans. Beasts. Even the apex predators of the world — the dragons themselves- would crumble and fade away.

Because mana isn't just power. It's breath. It's life."

He paused, letting the weight of those words settle.

"Every sentient being... except you."

He said it softly, almost reverently.

"You would survive. You'd keep moving forward when the rest of existence fell silent."

I sat back, a knot tightening in my chest as the implications sank deeper.

Arcane straightened, his voice gaining strength again.

"Andromeda, on the other hand... she's different in her own way. Her bond with mana isn't about survival. It's about amplification. It's so deep, so pure, that it gave birth to one of the most devastating elemental natures humanity has ever seen — the ability to shatter anything.

Literally anything."

He paused again, watching me carefully to make sure I absorbed it fully.

"That's why her abilities are called godly."

The pieces clicked into place inside my mind, sharp and cold.

So that was the difference.

Godly abilities were direct manifestations of elemental nature itself — the purest, strongest bond between a person and the primal forces of the world.

I wasn't missing strength, no, I had it in spades — but I didn't belong to the natural order of mana. I didn't even possess a true elemental affinity.

Not a rare one.

Not even a pitifully weak one.

Just... nothing.

A void.

Arcane's voice softened slightly, his tone almost like a father explaining an uncomfortable truth to a stubborn child.

"Godly abilities are direct manifestations of elemental natures," he said.

"As simple as that. Since you don't have one, don't expect anyone—not me, not Sia, not even yourself-to ever label yours as godly. It won't happen."

There was no cruelty in his words.

Only a steady, inescapable truth.

Still...

Even with all I knew about the extent of my powers...

Even knowing how utterly disruptive my existence was to the natural order...

A small part of me — buried deep — cracked.

And for the first time in a long time, I truly felt it:

I was powerful.

I was unique.

But I guess I was never meant to be a part of this world.

"Oh come on now, don't get discouraged like that..." Arcane urged, his voice gentler this time, almost as if he could feel the storm quietly stirring inside me.

'Yeah, maybe if your tone wasn't that harsh, I would've handled my mood a lot better,' I wanted to grumble out loud, but I didn't. No point. It wasn't his fault anyway.

Some of us are just unlucky — abandoned at birth, first by our parents, and then, perhaps, by mana itself... or maybe it was the other way around. Who knows?

Arcane leaned back against the sturdy branch of Buck as the moonlight sifted through the leaves and painted silver scars across his silhouette.

"This 'godly ability' title? It's a nobles' game," he continued, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Since ancient times, it's always been the aristocrats who were closer to mana — the ones with the strongest elemental manifestations. So anything that doesn't fit into their neat little box? They call it a scam, a sham. An accident. Something unworthy, unnatural, etc."

His words floated easily in the night air, but the weight behind them pressed down on my chest.

Yeah, I guess.

It is what it is.

I accept my destiny.

Move on.

What else could I possibly do?

It's not like someone's going to suddenly walk into my life and jam an elemental affinity into my core like some miracle.

Besides... I'm more than satisfied with what I have.

More than grateful for the power that's truly mine.

Arcane must've sensed my resolve hardening, because he chuckled under his breath — a short, rare sound — and nodded approvingly.

"Good one, Lucius," he said, his silver eyes briefly glinting with pride. "You chose not to dwell in the past. You accepted it... and you moved forward. That alone ensures you'll recognise future opportunities when they come. Not everyone can do that, you know."

He's right.

And so was my decision.

I don't intend on being trapped anywhere — not in the chains of the past, not in the illusions of 'what could've been.'

If mana itself deemed me unworthy of an affinity, then so be it.

I showed the entity — the force that governs every sentient being across this universe — that I wasn't dependent on it either.

A perfect middle-finger response.

A defiant, living rejection.

Its exactly like he said, "Even if mana were to dry up from existence tomorrow, the world would collapse — dragons, apex beasts, entire empires... they would crumble into dust..."

But me?

I would still stand.

I would still walk.

In a way...

That makes me freer than anyone else could ever hope to be.