The Fallen One

Lucius still couldn't fully grasp why they had all risked their stable, well-established lives for him—a mere child with no past, no powers, and no promise of a 'normal' future. He had voiced this confusion to Sia before, frustrated by her vague answers that never quite made sense. But this time, something in his restlessness made her pause.

Taking his hand gently, Sia let out a quiet sigh. "Calm your mind, Lucius. This will be the last time I speak on this. After tonight, I want your word, you're promise—you'll stop asking. Let this doubt be buried." Lucius nodded slowly. A quiet breath escaped him as he braced himself to hear the truth, one last time.

"I understand why you're so hung up on it," she began. "Our actions made no sense. Even to us. But let's start with Ragnar. Four holes in his chest, mana core shattered—he was dying whether he fought or not. Still, he chose to speak to you first. He verbally handed you his weapon, then returned to the battlefield. Do you think his thoughts calculated all that?" Lucius shook his head, but no words came.

Sia continued, her voice calm but certain. "Then me. When that cursed Ghost Bear fired its first volley, I didn't have time to think. I moved on instinct. So did Ragnar. So did Rey. My first reaction was to shield you. Ragnar's was to stand as a wall for June and his wife. Rey danced away and hurled his daggers like a storm, none of it was planned, we were just… Acting on instincts." Lucius stayed silent, absorbing each word.

"And Mercy?" she said. "The moment he saw you standing beside me—introducing yourself, bowing with respect even while covered in filth—he knew. He knew I was going to protect you. He didn't even question it. His instincts pulled him in because he saw something... My husband had no choice. He followed my words for once, and Edward? He has power and influence, but the second his best friend Mercy joined in, he didn't hesitate." Lucius murmured, "And the guildmaster?"

"Dargan?" Sia let out a soft chuckle. "You mean the one you once called an asshole? He and Jhansi both joined in—not because they had to, but because your presence sparked something. Like a line of falling dominoes." He lowered his head, voice barely audible. "But why? I wasn't a prodigy. I was small and stupid. No element, no class.... I wasn't worth the risk."

Sia gently turned his face to hers with both hands, her gaze firm and unwavering. "That may be how you saw yourself. But to me? You were worth everything the moment I laid eyes on you. Your courage—however small—moved Ragnar. Your manners and quiet strength reached Mercy. You may not see it yet, but your worth isn't entirely tied to your abilities or status. You were—and still are—clever, kind, curious, stubborn, sharp… and yes, cute."

She smiled softly, a warmth in her tone only reserved for him. "And above all else? You're mine, Lucius. My little one." A silence stretched between them, profound and comforting.

"One day," she said, "you'll be forced to make a choice—not one of logic, but of instinct. And when that day comes, you'll understand us. Until then, stop letting this doubt eat you from the inside. We five—Mercy, Dargan, Jhansi, Edward, and I, with my husband—we never once regretted risking ourselves for you. Not even after all your reckless stunts." Lucius sat still for a long moment, something soft and steady blooming in his chest. Understanding. Acceptance. He gave her a small, honest nod.

"…Thank you." Sia stood, visibly satisfied. Her eyes shimmered a little too much as she turned to leave. But just as she reached the door, Lucius called out. "I've decided to take a break… from hunting. From adventuring." Sia paused mid-step. "Why the sudden change?" Without a word, Lucius lifted his right arm. The skin was torn open, the wound deep and raw despite the herbs and potions he'd used to suppress swelling and smell. Her eyes widened instantly.

"Gods—Lucius," she hissed, storming back to him. "Why didn't you say something?" He chuckled weakly. "Didn't think it was serious. You've seen worse."

"I have," she admitted, kneeling beside him with healing tools already out. "Still hate seeing you like this." Lucius looked at her—the woman who'd thrown herself into danger to protect a nameless child. And for the first time, he believed her. Believed everything she had said...

***

"Good morning, Sia," Sun was up again, as Sara and Lavya greeted Sia at the door with a respectful bow. Sia, opening the door, had a warm smile and invited them inside.

Lucius was already awake, standing in the kitchen, washing dishes from the previous night. His movements were slow and distracted, clearly suffering from a lack of sleep, and the fresh wound wasn't helping. Still, he had insisted on doing the chore, trying to prove it wasn't serious. Now, as fatigue crept in, he was beginning to regret it.

Sara and Lavya wore their usual adventuring uniforms—dark grey, close-fitted for mobility. Lavya, true to form, draped his long black coat over his shoulders, rejecting the traditional cloaks. Sara, in contrast, wore hers proudly, wrapping it around her slim frame against the morning chill.

Sia waved them into the living room. While entering, Sara spotted Lucius and walked over to him, gently kissing his cheek and wrapping her arms around him, right where the wound was. A sharp grunt slipped from Lucius, too quiet for Sara to catch, but not for Sia or Lavya as both noticed.

Sia's eyes narrowed. She instantly realised that Lucius hadn't told Sara about the injury—and if she found out now, it'd lead to unnecessary drama back-and-forth. "Sara," Sia called out casually. "Come help me with something." Sara blinked, surprised that Sia was openly asking for her helping hand, the same woman who prefers doing everything by herself. "Of course," she replied, casting Lucius a puzzled glance before stepping away. Lucius let out a quiet breath of relief, grateful for the save.

"Lavya, you too, come join us," Sia informed once Sara was out of earshot. "We have much to discuss." "And share," Sara added cheerfully, returning to the living room with a relaxed smile. One by one, they took their seats. Sara and Lavya settled in quickly. Sia, ever the disciplined soldier, sat down with military grace, her coat wrapped around her like a makeshift blanket, despite the open window nearby.

Lucius remained in the kitchen—far from the rest—but distance didn't matter. Their mana-enhanced hearing made conversations effortless even across rooms. "So, who's starting?" Sia asked while lightly stretching her arms. Lavya opened his mouth to speak, but a dry voice cut in from the kitchen. "Lavya still skips his close combat training."

Lavya froze. His expression fell as the words hit, and his glare shot toward the kitchen. He silently mouthed a curse, jaw clenched. Before he could reply, Sia raised an eyebrow. "Well? Is that true?" she asked, turning to Sara with a smirk. Sara looked away, suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting. She clearly wanted no part in this little skirmish.

"That's not true, Sia! Don't listen to that lesser mage of yours!" Lavya snapped. The room went quiet as he realised it the moment the words left his mouth, he had fucked up, again. Both Sia and Sara hated that term—lesser mage—a demeaning label used by nobles to belittle those without elemental affinities, including knights who had protected them for generations.

Sia didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her mana surged like a storm, pulsing with restrained fury, though before her force reached Lavya, Lucius stepped in. "I don't mind," he said from the kitchen. "Let him call me what he wants. Why care about the mutterings of weaker mages?" His tone was calm, just calm. His expression was normal as Sia slowly let her mana recede, though her stance was clear.

"Lavya, this is my last gentle warning... Never use that word in my house again." Lavya nodded stiffly, but his thoughts lingered on Lucius's cutting response. Sara, visibly uncomfortable, jumped in to break the tension. "Sister Sia, did you hear about the Warrior's Championship?!" she asked, her voice a little too enthusiastic. Sia's expression softened slightly as she turned toward her, the tension already beginning to melt away. "Oh yes. Who didn't?" she replied with a small smile. "It's a shame you all didn't get to watch it live."

"Watch it live? How?" Sara asked, perking up. "Well," Sia began, adjusting her coat, "this year's championship was supposed to be broadcast across the empire—to every region, city, and town. But the plan was dropped. Too many logistical hurdles, not enough funds, and the invasion into the last layers of the Outer Rim are already draining the empire's resources."

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She paused, then smiled faintly. "Though I've heard the next one—twenty years from now—will be broadcast continent-wide." Sara slumped in disappointment initially… then leaned forward, intrigued again. Lucius entered the room with two cups of steaming coffee. He handed one to Sia, the other to Sara, before flipping his middle finger at Lavya and strolling back to get his own.

Sara giggled softly into her drink. Lavya just groaned. "I wish I had qualified for the championship," Sara said between sips. "I really wanted to travel, see those grand cities you keep talking about." Lucius returned, casually draping his left arm around Sara's shoulders as he sat beside her.

"It might seem unfair," Sia said, "but there's a reason the Championship only includes the top institutes from Verdun and its capital cities. Most of the participants? They've already surpassed S or even SS-rank. And that's not even counting their elemental affinities." Sara and Lavya's eyes widened. That kind of power, from kids barely older than them… it was humbling. Lucius, however, didn't seem fazed. "I heard the winner was the heir of the Skydagger family… What was her name again?"

"Andromeda Skydagger," Sia answered before Sara could. "The sole heir of the Skydagger Dukedom. A once-in-a-generation prodigy. Her skills, swordplay, even her elemental affinity—it's all... unreal." Lavya raised a brow. "You speak like you personally know her."

"I do," Sia replied. "I was part of a specialised unit that protected her when she was a child. We spent a few months together when she was six." That revelation hit both Sara and Lavya like a slap. Lucius already knew—but listened keenly all the same.

"The Skydaggers govern the central and central-western regions alongside the Imperial Family," Sia explained. "They've been allies of the Dredagons, who rule the central and eastern empire, for centuries. The Dredagons don't have a proper heir right now, but the Skydaggers have Andromeda."

"She was raised in complete secrecy. No one even knew she existed until she turned ten. And yet, she won the championship without being hit once—and without using her elemental powers."

Even Lucius raised an eyebrow at that.

"She's already been promised the title of Saintess," Sia continued. "Even above the Rodans, or should I say against the wishes of the one who rules the entire southern and most of the western region... I was given the chance to train her briefly. I taught her some of my sword techniques… though I don't know if she still uses them."

The room went silent, none of them had any more questions until, "…Is she good-looking?" Lavya nearly groaned aloud. Here we go again, he thought, shooting a look at Sara. Sia tilted her head, trying to recall the girl's face. "She's royalty, Lucius. The blood of the First Emperor runs through her. Of course, she's—"

Before she could finish, Sara grabbed Lucius by the ear and yanked him toward her. "Why do you wanna know what she looks like, huh?" she demanded, twisting harder. "Ack—Sara—! I was just curious!" After a full minute of exaggerated begging and promises, she finally let go. Lucius rubbed his ear dramatically while the other two watched with amusement.

Eventually, they all laughed it off as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. The warmth of the morning finally settled in.

***

"Now then, on to the main topic," Sia announced, her voice slicing through the lingering chatter as the room fell quiet within a moment. The three seated across from her exchanged brief glances, a silent agreement passing between them. After every major expedition, this was routine. Sia demanded detailed debriefs—every encounter, every hesitation, every wound was fuel for growth.

Sara straightened, her voice calm and precise. "Since the beginning of last month, we've entered the Beast Rims five times. Our most recent mission was two days ago—targeting a herd of Strokedeers. It was relatively straightforward. I led the charge, Lucius handled support and improvisation like always, and Lavya covered us. No major injuries. Mostly thanks to them both."

Sia nodded slowly, a trace of pride flickering in her gaze—subtle, but unmistakable. "It seems you've grown—not just stronger, but sharper. The missions are doing what they're meant to. Anything else worth mentioning?" They shook their heads. Strokedeers weren't combat beasts—they excelled at sensing danger and fleeing. The hunt had been more about strategy than strength. A trial in coordination, meant to prepare them for the day when predators wouldn't run—but fight with terrifying resolve.

"There is… one minor issue," Lucius said, leaning back slightly. His tone was casual, but his eyes flicked to Lavya. Sia turned to him, one brow slightly raised in curiosity. Lavya opened his mouth—but she raised a hand. "Let the initiator finish first." Lavya stiffened, but he said nothing.

Lucius didn't drag it out. "It's the same as before. Lavya still refuses to commit to close-quarters training." The silence that followed wasn't awkward—but dense. Familiar. Like an old wound everyone had grown used to ignoring. Finally, Lavya exhaled and spoke—his voice calm, steady, and without apology.

"I'm Lavya. Eighteen. A B-rank elemental mage with flame affinity. My Spellcaster class gives me precision and range. I can burn a man down before he takes a step toward me. So why exactly should I waste time learning to swing a blade like a barbarian?" Lucius didn't respond. He'd heard it before. Word for word. But any rebuttal from him would only seem condescending—especially coming from someone younger than Lav.

Sia's face remained neutral, but her silence was heavy. Not with anger—but weariness. Not physical, but emotional. Like a mentor forced to repeat the same truth to someone who had the potential to soar, but insisted on walking. She finally spoke. "Lavya. Define 'versatility.'"

"An all-rounder. Someone adaptable, resilient, and flexible in combat. Someone like—" his eyes flicked briefly to Lucius "—him." Lucius raised a brow. 'Self-awareness, Huh?' Still, he remained quiet. Sia gave a small nod. "Correct. Three times over. You're special, Lavya. At eighteen, you're nearly A-rank. Your fire control puts even seasoned spellcasters to shame. But talent without adaptability is a sword with no edge."

She leaned forward, voice quiet but firm. "One close-range opponent who's resistant to flame, and you become a liability. Beasts exploit weakness, and so do the most cunning species, us. Your enemies won't care about your class, Lavya—they'll care about your blind spots." Lavya said nothing. His fingers twitched on the armrest. For a moment, it looked like he might argue. But his gaze dropped, then slowly lifted—first to Lucius, then back to Sia.

Sia let the silence linger, then Lucius spoke—calmly. "Even though Spellcaster is a false class." Lavya turned toward him, confused by his comment. "What do you mean by false class?" Lucius tilted his head. "You sure you want to know? The truth might crack that noble pedestal you're clinging to." Lavya scowled. "I asked a question. Answer it." Sia placed a hand on Lavya's wrist—quiet restraint—but Lucius was already leaning forward.

"Think carefully. You create and manipulate fire with precision. You reshape it mid-battle. You rain destruction from afar. That's why they call you a Spellcaster. But what about mages who fight up close—who channel their element through blades, fists, instincts? Are they lesser?" Lucius gestured toward Sara. "She enhances her movement with icy wind, fights up close with terrifying speed, and can still launch ranged attacks. Yet no one calls her a Spellcaster—because her style doesn't fit the image." He let that hang.

"You see it now? Spellcaster isn't a class. It's a narrative. It's branding. It's prestige assigned to those who fight from a distance—because that's what the elite want to glorify. Ranged is noble. Close combat is… common. That's the lie." Lavya remained still, his thoughts visible in the tension of his posture. Lucius continued, sharper now. "Let's compare you and Sia." He turned to her. "Permission?" She nodded, arms folded, curious.

"Sia was an Elemental Knight. Before her core injury, she could cast ranged spells too. But she chose melee. And despite her power, no one called her a Spellcaster. Meanwhile, you—" he pointed lightly, "—are praised, not just for what you can do, but for how you do it. Because nobles favor the clean, distant fight. They romanticize it. They look down on the ones who bleed up close."

He paused, then dropped the weight of his words. "The concept of 'Spellcaster' was crafted by the elite—to elevate themselves above the protectors they secretly scorn. It's not about classification. It's about control. Politics, masked as power." Silence blanketed the room.

Lucius pressed on. "Two A-ranks. One Spellcaster. One Elemental Knight. Equal footing. Who wins?"

He locked eyes with Lavya. "My bet's on the Knight. Every time. Because they respect the mage's craft—and train to counter it. While the mage refuses to dirty their hands. Out of pride." There was a beat. Lavya finally asked, quieter now. "How can you be so sure the Knight wins?"

Lucius smiled. "Sia already told you. You just didn't hear her." Lavya blinked—then murmured, as if the word had been sitting on his tongue all along: "Versatility." Lucius nodded. "Exactly. We reinforce our bodies with mana. Our endurance, reflexes, stamina—it's unnatural. You'll run out of spells. We'll still be dodging. Still fighting. And once your fuel runs dry…"

He shrugged. "Game over." Lavya looked down, expression unreadable. Lucius softened his voice. "You're gifted, Lav. No one denies that. But don't let pride blind you to the cracks. Ranged magic is powerful. But incomplete. Don't ignore the paths you haven't walked. Because only the unpredictable survive the unknown."

Sia chimed in gently. "Even Lucius, despite being a Left Dominator, refines his ranged fundamentals every week. He doesn't rely on a single strength. Neither should you." Lavya stood slowly. Eyes distant. He gave a small nod and walked out toward the garden without another word. Lucius watched him go, then turned to Sara. "Was that too much?"

Sara smiled faintly. "No. He needed to hear it. If not now, then later. But later would've cost time he doesn't have." Lucius gave a slow nod. "Thanks." And he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek… and then her lips.