The streets of Lyon were drowned in smoke and the roars of monsters still lingering.
When Mira and her guild arrived on the scene, the air was thick with the smell of blood and burnt stone. They found a group of Hunters defending a half-collapsed building with inside, frightened civilians huddled behind shattered windows.
Among the defenders were Léon, Clara, and Romain.
Clara's eyes widened as she spotted Mira stepping through the smoke, her long coat swaying behind her, the sigil of the Blades of Lyon gleamed softly in the shadow."Wow… that's Mira…" she whispered.
Léon, his sword still dripping with blood, straightened."Miss Mira," he said quickly. "Some Hunters are fighting high-level Orcs just up the street. They managed to lure them into the side alleys to keep them away from the civilians."
Mira gave a curt nod. "You did well protecting them."Then, turning to her team, she ordered, "Spread out. Clear the area."
The Blades of Lyon moved instantly, like trained shadows. Within minutes, the remaining monsters were overwhelmed, arrows, blades, and spells cutting through the chaos with ruthless precision.
Mira advanced down the ruined street, her boots crunching over shards of glass. The echoes of battle faded until only one sound remained... the clash of steel and guttural roars.
There, on the rooftops, Hassan fought on alone, his bow singing with every release. He noticed Mira's arrival and leapt down gracefully from the tiles, landing beside her.
"Lucien…" he said between breaths. "He fell... with the Orc leader. Down into the sewers."
Mira followed his gaze to the gaping hole in the street, still smoking from the explosion his arrow had caused earlier. She didn't hesitate.
Without a word, she stepped forward and jumped.
The air was heavy and damp as she landed below, her eyes adjusting to the light of the tunnels. Water dripped from the pipes overhead. Then she saw them, the massive corpse of the Orc leader lying motionless, and Lucien, unconscious, hanging on by a thread. His blade was still buried through the monster's hand and throat, as if he had refused to let go even in defeat.
Mira's expression didn't waver. She knelt beside him, checking his pulse, then called through the comms on her wrist.
"I found him. Send a healer, now."
Moments later, her team arrived. Lucien was carried carefully out of the sewers and laid on the broken pavement above. The healer from Mira's guild knelt beside him, glowing light spreading from their hands.
Mira stood silently, watching the scene, her red hair catching the pale dawn light. Around her, the city of Lyon still burned... but for now, at least, the street was quiet.
A few hours later…
Lucien opened his eyes to the faint scent of linen and sunlight filtering through half-drawn curtains. The battlefield was gone.The pain... was gone too.
He blinked, sitting up slowly. His body felt whole again, every wound sealed, every muscle renewed. The sheets beneath him were crisp and white, and the ceiling above… familiar.
He was back in the Beaumont Manor.
For a long moment, he simply sat there, trying to understand how much time had passed. The memories of the fight came back in flashes, first the roar of the Orc leader, the crash through the stone, the cold darkness of the sewers. And then nothing.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ready to look for someone, to ask what had happened... when the System chimed.
[World Notification]Global Persistent Rift Crisis : Resolved.
[Personal Update]Skill "???" : Progress: 1%.
Lucien froze.
The words hung before him in faint, glowing blue, until suddenly a sharp pain shot through his skull. He clenched his teeth, gripping the sheets... his vision blurred, and the world around him began to twist.
Then he was somewhere else.
He stood on holy ground... vast white stone halls shrouded in smoke and fire. Banners of gold and crimson burned in the wind. The air was filled with the clash of swords and the cries of men.
"Lucien!"
He turned. Warriors in silver armor fought at his side, it was his brothers-in-arms it filled him with a happiness and sorrow at the same time.
"Lucien, hurry!" one of them shouted. "We have to catch him before he escapes with—"
The voice cut out. The world shattered.
Lucien gasped and fell forward, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. The manor room came back into focus. Sweat ran down his temple. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
He looked around... the quiet halls, the morning light, the sound of birds outside. Everything was normal.
But he knew what he had seen.
That fortress. Those warriors.That name they had called him... his name.
There was no longer any doubt.The visions weren't random… they were memories.Memories from a past he could no longer recall... a mission he couldn't recall...
Lucien stayed still for several minutes, his gaze lost in the soft light filtering through the window, trying... but failing to remember anything more.
And his mind remained silent.
Meanwhile, in Mira's office…
The soft ticking of an old clock filled the silence. Papers were stacked neatly across the desk, but at the center of it all lay something far less ordinary... a severed arm, wrapped in white cloth stained with drying blood.
Mr. Roger stood beside the desk, his hands clasped behind his back as he recounted everything that had happened during Mira's absence.The attempted theft.The fight in the manor.Lucien's reaction... and what followed after.
When he finished, Renan crossed his arms, his brow furrowed."So, just to be clear," he said slowly, "this man... this blacksmith... he fought off an intruder, cut off his arm, and then froze up when he saw that symbol?"
Roger nodded.
Renan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "We have absolutely nothing on him. No records, no background, no family ties. It's like he doesn't exist."He turned to Mira. "You really think it's wise to keep someone like that in your manor? Someone who could just vanish from every database on the planet?"
Mira didn't answer right away. She sat behind her desk, fingers resting lightly against her chin, eyes fixed on the arm before her. The faint sigil burned into its skin... an intricate mark of intertwining black lines and gold shimmer, ancient and unfamiliar.
Finally, she spoke."You're wrong, Renan," she said quietly. "We don't know nothing about him."
Her gaze hardened.
"We know he recognized this symbol," she said, pointing to the mark. "And we know they're not allies."
She gestured toward the desk, to the severed arm, the blood-soaked reminder of that night.
"That," she said, her voice calm but sharp, "is all the proof I need."
Renan frowned, still unconvinced. "And what if the symbol means he's one of them?"
Mira's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then it's better to keep him close," she replied. "Until we find out what he truly is."
Silence filled the room again, heavy, deliberate. The air felt thicker somehow, as if the manor itself was holding its breath.