The grand study of Raelam Arkanveil smelled of old wood, ink, and the faint trace of mana lingering like mist.
Lucien stood before the towering desk, hands clasped behind his back.
"You want to leave alone?" Raelam asked, his voice a river of calm—but his golden eyes, those sharp Arkanveil eyes, cut deeper than any blade.
Lucien nodded once. "Just for a month. I want to see the world beyond Emberfall. Test myself. I won't be reckless."
Raelam leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. The silence stretched, thick and taut.
Finally, the patriarch spoke.
"Very well. One month. Return alive."
A ghost of a smile touched Lucien's lips.
"I intend to."
He bowed deeply—a gesture of respect, of gratitude—and then turned without hesitation.
The future didn't wait for permission.
---
He left that very evening. No grand farewells. No tearful send-offs. Just a cloak over his shoulders, a pack strapped tight, and the humming pulse of excitement beneath his skin.
The outer perimeter of Arkanveil lands loomed ahead. He moved swiftly through the silver-lit woods, boots barely making a sound over the mossy ground.
For a moment, it felt like freedom.
Then, it came—the faint prickling sensation, like spider legs crawling over his neck.
He was being watched.
Lucien didn't break stride. He shifted course casually, drifting toward the shadows of the Darkspine Forest. The trees thickened around him, their gnarled arms twisting into the sky.
Behind him, branches stirred.
The hunter was sloppy—arrogant.
Lucien smirked to himself.
"Amateur hour."
He found a clearing bathed in moonlight and stopped, rolling his shoulders.
"Come out," he called lazily, brushing a stray leaf from his cloak. "I know you're there."
The forest answered with silence... then a low chuckle.
From the trees dropped a figure—lanky, grinning, wearing a ragged red shirt open at the chest. A straw hat tilted low over his face. His arms hung loose, like rope, and when he moved, his joints stretched unnaturally.
Lucien blinked once.
No. Way.
"Straw hat. Rubber limbs. Scars... You're Goma, aren't you?"
The boy grinned wider, revealing a row of crooked teeth.
"Name's Goma," he said, voice cocky. "You're lucky. You get to be a sacrifice for the Demon Emperor."
He cracked his knuckles, arms elongating with a grotesque elasticity.
"My trait—Rubber Body—makes me unbeatable. Blades bounce. Punches flop.
Goma...Goma ..na ..bazu-"
Lucien moved.
In a blur of mana and muscle, he closed the gap and drove his fist into Goma's jaw, snapping his head sideways with a wet crack.
"ORA ORA ORA ORAAA!!"
Lucien's fists became a storm—relentless, punishing, merciless.
Goma tried to stretch away, but Lucien's combat flow moved like liquid fire, adjusting mid-battle. Knee to the gut. Elbow to the temple. A sweep kick that shattered the boy's balance.
Goma stumbled, dazed.
"Wait—"
Lucien drew his blade in a single, fluid motion, the steel whispering through the air.
One clean slash.
Goma's head toppled from his rubbery shoulders. His body sagged, lifeless.
Blood steamed in the cool night air.
Lucien exhaled, flipping the blade once before sheathing it.
He spat on the corpse without ceremony.
"Tora mai ke ch#d#," he muttered under his breath in Hindi, feeling a strange satisfaction in the insult.
A chime echoed softly in his mind.
---
> [Trait Devoured: Rubber Body – B Grade (Evolvable to S Grade)]
---
Lucien crouched, inspecting the body with a clinical eye.
"Rubber Body, huh?" he mused. "Not bad. With the right evolution path, it could become something really broken."
He rose, rolling his shoulders.
Mana thrummed in his blood. Adaptation whispered through his limbs, already integrating the new trait into muscle memory.
"Another piece added to the board."
Without a second glance at the corpse, Lucien turned toward the deeper woods, cutting a new path.
The night air was sharp, filled with the scent of pine and wet earth.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
Lucien smiled faintly.
"This world's starting to feel like an anime convention run by lunatics," he said aloud, shaking his head.
First a rubber boy straight out of One Piece—what next?
Naruto with a demon fox stuck in his chest?
He chuckled under his breath, humming the Rocky theme as he walked.
---
The Darkspine Forest grew thicker, the shadows deeper.
Lucien kept his senses sharp. Goma wouldn't have been alone. Liberation Organization scouts always moved in pairs, sometimes trios.
Sure enough, not ten minutes later, he caught a flash of movement—a second scout watching him from a branch high above.
Lucien didn't react.
Let them think he hadn't noticed.
He adjusted his course, heading toward the old portal nexus tucked in the forest's heart. The place hadn't been used in decades—except by those who knew its secret.
Lucien was one of them.
Thanks to the memories of the novel.
As he walked, he mulled over his new trait.
Rubber Body.
Durability. Flexibility. Shock Absorption.
Combined with his Flow of Adaptation and Devour, it would make him a nightmare in melee combat. Slashes and blunt strikes would be reduced or redirected, while his instincts sharpened the counterattack.
And if he evolved it?
Lucien's grin widened.
He could already see the possibilities:
Elastic body techniques. Momentum strikes.
A fighting style based on unpredictability.
Bendy bastard Lucien.
He snorted at the mental image.
---
Finally, he reached the clearing where the nexus stood.
The portal—a massive stone arch covered in moss—waited silently, ancient runes glowing faintly in the gloom.
Lucien placed a hand on the arch.
Mana flowed through his veins like liquid silver.
The runes ignited.
The portal shimmered open, revealing a swirling vortex of light.
Before stepping through, Lucien turned once, scanning the forest behind him.
The scout had fled.
Smart.
Lucien pulled his hood up over his golden hair, cloaking himself in shadow.
"Let's see what kind of chaos this world is hiding."
With a final breath, he stepped into the light—
—and vanished.