A STORY WORTH THE STARS

LUCIUS

These people, man… they wouldn't even let me sleep in peace.

Another yawn slipped from my mouth as I dragged myself up. The afternoon had been a whole circus. Took those officials a full hour of pleading before they realised Arcane was already gone. The look on their faces when it finally sank in? Worth the time. Especially the nobles—House Wal-Kins and their bootlickers. The way Arcane dismissed them… like they were nothing but yesterday's dust. Just like they do to others, those they consider beneath them.

Now the sun was down. The wind bit sharper than usual, and the air felt dry… sluggish. Maybe that was just the exhaustion. No proper rest, no peace. But I had no choice—I reminded myself of that as I climbed toward the Black Mountains. My training takes priority. Besides, Buck's probably missing me.

Still… the silence they gave me after what I said? It stung.

I want to say I didn't care—that their opinions don't matter, not when I've got things to do, lives to protect. But that'd be a lie. It did hurt. Especially when it came from Sia and Sara.

Lav and I talked a bit before I crashed. He said I was insensitive. That my bluntness wasn't needed, not this time. That it came off more like some personal agenda than an honest stance. And maybe… maybe he's right.

Sara and Sia didn't even look at me. Nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

The two women I've loved with everything I've got just… turned away. And Sia? She always had something to say—she always corrected me, even when I didn't want to hear it. But now? She let it go. As if telling me, You figure this one out, Lucius. You're grown now.

Yeah. I'm eighteen. This is what it means to be an adult, huh?

You think before you speak. You weigh your words. You consider the people around you before you let the blade loose from your tongue.

I meant what I said. I still do. I don't hate the Nmanas—I just don't care. I don't meddle in their problems, and I don't expect them to meddle in mine. That's it. I've got bigger shit to deal with. Bigger enemies. Real threats.

Like the man who showed up in our home today—Goodman.

Even just thinking about him makes my blood boil. The way he looks at Sia, the way he acts like he's entitled to her attention… It's unbearable.

I never understood that man. He despises people like me—non-nobles, commoners. The "lessers." So why's he after Sia? She's a commoner, too. And sure, she's married. She's not royalty. She's not some radiant goddess sculpted from marble.

…Nah, who the hell am I kidding?

She's one of the finest women I've ever seen, and she's ten times more than what most nobles will ever deserve.

Goodman could have anyone. Royals. Noble daughters. Anyone. He's got the looks, the power, and the influence to pull it off. He even mocked Arcane to his face. That takes either suicidal confidence… or a terrifying amount of backing.

And influence? Goodman might just have enough of it to tip kingdoms.

That's the real threat. Not the missing Nmanas. Not the city's mysterious problems. Goodman. The corrupted beasts. The wraiths. The outliers crawling out from the edges of our world.

Those are the things I need to focus on.

So no, I won't be investigating these cases Arcane left behind. Mercy, Edward, and the others can handle that. That's their role, not mine.

Am I being heartless? Maybe.

This isn't what Arcane, or Sia, or Edward taught me. But it's what I've come to believe on my own. This is my path. No borrowed wisdom. No filtered morality.

I didn't become an adventurer to be a hero. I did it to survive. To repay Sia. To build a life here in Varis, close to the only people who've ever meant something to me. That life forced me to face threats, real threats: beasts that shouldn't exist, disappearances that don't make sense, and now a man who might shatter the balance of everything.

And every problem I've faced has had the same solution: get stronger.

That's all it's ever been. That's all it ever will be.

So that's where my time's going. Training. Hunting. Core absorption. Mastery. Pushing my abilities past their limits until I can stand as a wall between the chaos and the people I care about.

As for the Nmanas?

Let them have the "Mighty One" or whatever myth they worship. I'm no saviour. I'm no legend.

I'm just a guy with scars, steel, and a reason to fight.

And right now, that's more than enough.

***

"...Well, well, well. If it isn't the man, the myth, the legend himself. The saviour of us lesser folk—sitting on my favourite tree," I muttered, squinting up at Arcane.

He was lying back against Buck, looking completely at peace. Asleep, it seemed. Typical. The guy hijacks my usual spot and has the audacity to nap in it. He rubbed his eyes lazily as I landed beside him without warning or invitation.

I didn't bother asking for permission to sit. He might be my master, but he's also my friend—and right now, I'm too tired to play the obedient subordinate role. I've got work to do, training to focus on. Grovelling won't help with any of that.

Then again... the hell was I even thinking just now?

I stared at my clenched fist. It was trembling, tight with frustration. Without another thought, I punched myself. Hard. No holding back.

SMACK!

...OUCH, that hurts!

"....Yup. I needed that," I muttered aloud.

Arcane blinked, amused by the display. I met his eyes and gave him a look—Don't ask. I deserved it. He nodded like he understood... even though I'm sure he didn't.

"Mind if I sit?" I asked belatedly.

He didn't reply. Just shifted his legs to the side, clearing a space for me. I took the offer and settled beside him. For a while, we both were silent. I was rubbing my cheek while he did his own thing, which was lying and doing nothing, just like the time he trained me all those years ago, a fresh reminder of those hell-like training days. 

"Do you really mean what you said back then?" he asked quietly, disturbing the lasting peace we three created. 

I lay down flat, eyes tracing the constellations. Cold winds brushed past, soft but sharp.

"...Yes. And no," I said honestly.

"Means you're not a lost cause. Not yet," he replied.

Lost cause? Just because I have a different opinion? Or because I sound like that walking douchebag, Goodman?

"Was it really that terrible of a take?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Even before you hear my reasons behind it?"

He looked up at the stars, then down at me, then back again. Finally, his gaze met mine.

"No reason, excuse, or logic can justify such an insensitive mindset... unless you're a vile sentient being."

His voice was calm, but the hatred in his words wasn't directed at me. At least... I hoped it wasn't.

But honestly... I still don't get it.

Why does it matter if I don't help the Nmanas? They're abandoned by mana. They can't use it. They don't pose a threat. There's no uprising, no looming rebellion. These disappearances? Sure, solving them might benefit the Nmanas—but if we don't? Nothing major happens. No cities collapse. No kingdoms fall. Arcane himself said that this issue has been around for decades. Yet the real threats we face today come from the Beast Rims, not inside the empire.

So tell me, where's the urgency?

Arcane stayed quiet. He listened. Really listened. Not a single interruption, not a sarcastic quip, not even a raised eyebrow. I knew he was a good listener, but this level of attention caught me off guard.

So I kept talking. Unfiltered. Honest.

I don't hate the Nmanas. I know how they feel—discriminated against, discarded. I've felt it too. Goodman's existence alone is enough to remind me what it's like to be seen as lesser. It's not that I don't care. It's just... I don't know how to care. Not right now.

I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to feel. Or think. Or prioritise.

I've got too much on my plate—training, survival, threats, Goodman, wraiths, Sia, Sara, this growing void inside me. I'm overwhelmed. Utterly fucking lost.

"..."

...I think I need help, I admitted, almost choking on the words. "I need guidance. Assistance. Something. Anything."

He listened, without judgment, like a man to man and without a word, Arcane reached over and grabbed my hand.

That simple gesture... it grounded me, it really fucking did. 

That's right, I'm not alone, I realised, I have him, only for a short while, but yes, I have him right now, he can help, he's willing to help, I just have to allow myself and him as well.

I want to believe it meant 'You're not alone'. So I will.

"You've got too much on your mind," he said gently. "Too many burdens. Too many responsibilities—some placed by others, some you placed on yourself. That's normal. You're an adult now. It's okay to be overwhelmed."

I exhaled, shaky but steadier.

"Let's not talk about all that for now," he continued. "Let's just take a moment. Breathe. Rest. We can revisit everything later."

"Yeah... that sounds good."

I agreed. I needed this. A break. A mental reset. The conversation, Goodman, that Guardian Alpha fight, the rumours about the wraiths—it all blurred into noise. I needed time to think clearly again. To decide what my next step should be, and who I'm becoming.

We both lay there silently under the stars. No more words. Just breathing. Just peace.

"Wanna hear a story? One that has absolutely nothing to do with Nmanas, Goodman, or all the mess we're tangled in?"

Arcane's voice broke the silence, a casual suggestion that drifted into the cold night air like a soft ember.

I blinked. A story? Now?

Honestly, the idea felt… perfect. A distraction. A breather. Something far removed from the knots twisting in my chest and the chaos gnawing at the edge of my mind. So I nodded, slowly at first, then more firmly, settling back into the tree bark behind me. The cool surface pressed against my spine, grounding me.

Arcane smirked slightly. "It's long," he warned, eyes half-closed. "Might be boring. Has a bunch of 'insignificant' details that some might call unnecessary. You sure you're up for it?"

I scoffed. "As long as you're the one narrating, I'll listen to a tree sprout bark. You could make a recipe sound like a war chronicle."

That earned a soft chuckle from him, and just like that, something in the air shifted.

I've always found peace in stories. Not because they transport me away from reality, but because they let me breathe within it. When the world's too loud and the weight too heavy, stories become a different kind of silence—a steady heartbeat that reminds you you're still here, still alive.

And Arcane?

He's more than just a skilled swordsman or a master tactician. He's a storyteller. One of the rare few who doesn't just tell tales to entertain but to teach, to reveal, to connect. Even in his lightest words, there's always something—some small shard of truth wrapped in fiction, meant only for the ones paying attention.

"I used to think stories were meant for children," he began, leaning slightly forward as Buck gave a lazy grunt beneath us. "But they're not. They're survival tools. Sometimes, they're the only thing that keeps a man from breaking."

I turned my head to look at him. He wasn't looking at me anymore—his gaze was far away, fixed on something only he could see.

And sometimes, that's more than enough, as he began.