Time passed quickly, and before Damon realized it, Mugu had spent over a year in Lysithara.
Very little had changed on the surface, but beneath that stillness, a routine had taken root.
Mugu, like Damon, preferred solitude. Unlike Damon, he was not abrasive by default. He was polite when necessary and distant when he preferred. He simply did not fit into the culture of the city. The only person who consistently made time for him was Nemoriel, who taught him patiently and spoke to him without judgment.
Yet Mugu had become known for one thing.
His persistence.
He was not particularly gifted. His mana pool was average. His affinity was not flashy. Compared to the natural talents around him, Mugu was mediocre.
And yet he kept up.
More than that, he excelled.
Magic. Combat science. Geography. Physics. Alchemy.
He was always there. Always learning. Always practicing.
Tonight was no different.
