Lucian lay on the earth, his eyes distant and unfocused as he stared at the slowly healing sky of the separate plane. Cracks in the artificial firmament mended themselves like living scars knitting shut, streaks of fading light weaving together until the damage from the battle gradually disappeared, leaving behind an almost deceptive calmness.
He didn't know whether to be angry, disappointed in himself, or simply indifferent to the situation altogether. His emotions tangled together in a dull, heavy knot that refused to unravel. After all, he had only lost to Anthony, which, in a strange and almost bitter way, was normal, expected even, something that could hardly be called surprising.
He had guessed he would lose from the very beginning; it was precisely why he never wanted to face Anthony the way Aaaninja and Aura Nova did. He had always preferred observing from the sidelines rather than charging headfirst into a wall he knew he could not break.
