The storm didn't stop for two days. London's sky looked bruised; thunder rolled like something alive beneath the clouds.
David called in sick. He spent forty-eight hours replaying that night — Lucien's golden eyes, the words "The Great Solomon walks again."
The sensible part of him wanted to forget. The other part — the one that had seen worlds burn — knew forgetting never worked.
By Sunday evening, he sat cross-legged in his flat, one hand on his chest, the other on his stomach. The pulse of the circle and the faint flicker of the star beat out of rhythm.
| "Two metronomes, different songs," he muttered. "If I can make them sync…"
He inhaled slowly. Qi and mana brushed against each other — repelling first, then swirling like two streams forced into one channel. Pain shot through his ribs, but he grinned.
| "Synchronization at four seconds before rejection. That's progress."
He repeated the process through the night: adjust, fail, record variables. Sweat soaked his shirt. When dawn bled through the curtains, the two pulses finally moved in harmony for a single breath. A faint mist of green-white light drifted from his skin.
| "Three-circle resonance achieved," he whispered. "And one-star stabilization… barely."
He didn't feel powerful. He felt awake.
That evening, the hum returned — louder, clearer. The ley-line under London Bridge trembled. And from across the river, Lucien felt it too.
Lucien appeared as the rain began, his coat fluttering in the wind. The bridge emptied; lamps flickered in sync with the lightning.
| "You've improved," Lucien said. "Your mana flow is steadier."
| "Therapy helps," David replied. "So does fear of dying."
Lucien's expression softened briefly.
| "I came to offer mercy. You're not ready for what's coming."
| "Let me guess," David said. "You?"
| "When gods fall silent, someone must speak for them."
Golden light ignited across the bridge, runes spiraling through the air. Cars skidded to a halt; alarms screamed.
David braced himself, channeling mana through his veins and qi into his lungs.
Observe. Anticipate. Counter.
Lucien's first strike came like a sunrise — pure radiance condensed into a spear. David sidestepped, releasing Pulse Step — compressed air and light bursting beneath his feet. The spear grazed his coat, vaporizing the sleeve.
| "Still flashy," David grunted.
| "Still mortal," Lucien answered, conjuring another.
David slammed his foot into the bridge deck; qi rippled outward, cracking asphalt. Resonance Guard formed — vibrations tuned to the spear's frequency. The impact dispersed like smoke.
Lucien's eyes widened.
| "You fused the flows… on Earth?"
| "Limited resources make creative engineers," David said.
He gathered the mist around his fist, compressing it into a shimmering ring. Then he struck through Lucien's barrier. Mana and qi detonated together — green and gold scattering into the storm.
Lucien staggered back, chest heaving. His coat smoked; his aura faltered.
| "You still lecture with your fists," he murmured.
| "And you still monologue," David replied, stepping forward. "How about we skip to the part where I win?"
Lucien's laugh was bitter.
| "You think this is victory? Look around. The ley-lines are stirring. You've reawakened the world."
|"Then maybe it's time someone sane stayed awake with it."
Lucien smiled — sad, almost proud — then let the rain swallow him as he vanished.
David stood amid the wreckage, chest burning, knuckles bleeding. The bridge crackled with residual light — proof that two impossible forces had met.
For the first time, he wasn't sure which one he feared more: Lucien… or himself.