She leaned back in her chair, gaze drifting toward the city lights outside her window. The Association sprawled beneath her, countless hunters and civilians relying on its strength, its rules. And within it, two names had begun to tangle together: Varik and this Lucen boy.
She had dossiers on both.
Varik's file was thicker than most textbooks. History soaked in battlefields, sealed-class dungeons, military deployments. He had been indispensable, unstoppable, unshakable.
Lucen's file was… thin. Too thin. Records inconsistent. Reports of strength that didn't match the numbers. A tendency to be in places where the impossible kept happening. And now, Varik of all people was at his side.
She folded her hands together, resting her chin on the knuckles.
"Lucen," she murmured aloud. The name felt untested on her tongue.
The obsidian relay stone pulsed again. A second message, this one written not in code but in the raw pulse of Division Black's unease.
Orders?
