"Because of my magic."
The words were quiet.
Almost gentle.
Yet they struck the underground hall harder than any explosion ever could.
For several heartbeats, the world stood still.
Rebecca felt as though the air had thickened, pressing against her chest, making it harder to breathe. Her ears rang faintly, not from sound, but from the sudden absence of it.
Mariella did not move.
Dominante did not scoff.
Even the faint hum of mana flowing through the base seemed to dull.
Lencar stood there with his hands relaxed at his sides, posture straight, eyes steady. He did not look defensive. He did not look triumphant.
He looked resigned.
"…Come with me," he said after a few seconds.
Not an order.
Not a request.
A decision.
He turned before anyone could respond and walked toward the far end of the hall. His footsteps echoed softly, each one measured, controlled, as if he had already accepted whatever came next.
Rebecca hesitated.
Her mind screamed questions.
Because of your magic?
What does that even mean?
How could magic be a reason to fight the nobles themselves?
But her feet moved anyway.
The corridor they entered was wide, carved deep into bedrock and reinforced with layered enchantments. Runes glowed faintly along the walls—some familiar, others completely foreign to Rebecca's understanding. The air felt different here. Cleaner. Sharper. Like a place built for purpose rather than comfort.
Dominante glanced around, eyes narrowing.
"This place…" she muttered. "You didn't just build it to hide."
"No," Lencar replied calmly. "I built it to prepare."
The corridor opened.
Rebecca's breath left her lungs.
The chamber before them was massive—circular, with a ceiling so high it vanished into darkness. Floating mana-lamps illuminated the space evenly, revealing a floor etched with countless overlapping magic circles, arrays nested within arrays, all faintly pulsing as if alive.
This wasn't a training room.
It was a control environment.
A place meant to withstand disasters.
Lencar stepped into the center.
"Stay there," he said, glancing back once. "Everything here is calibrated to me. You'll be safe."
Rebecca swallowed and nodded, gripping the edge of her cloak.
Then—
Mana answered him.
Fire bloomed first, not wild, not explosive, but perfectly shaped. A rotating ring of crimson flame formed around his right arm, heat intense yet contained, its core bright white with compression.
Wind followed, wrapping around his left side in layered currents, sharp enough to scream, yet controlled enough to slice the air without dispersing.
Earth rose beneath his feet in smooth platforms, rotating slowly, each slab reinforced by gravity magic that bent weight inward.
Water appeared next—suspended spheres that vibrated with pressure, dense enough that Rebecca could feel their presence from where she stood.
Lightning crackled—but did not lash out. It formed stable arcs, weaving into geometric patterns that hovered in place.
Rebecca stumbled back a step.
Her heart hammered violently.
Then it kept going.
Mist rolled in low and thick, coiling around Lencar's legs before thinning and reforming elsewhere.
Shadow peeled itself off the ground, stretching unnaturally, folding into complex shapes that swallowed light.
Steel constructs assembled mid-air—blades, shields, frames—only to disassemble and reform with flawless precision.
Crystal lattices grew outward, refracting light into blinding prisms before shattering silently and rebuilding.
Glass shimmered, sand spiraled, gravity warped.
Barrier layers stacked and dispersed like breathing membranes.
Plants burst from nothing—vines, flowers, thorns—then retracted cleanly back into mana.
And then—
Space bent.
A silent rift opened behind him.
Perfect.
Stable.
Absolute.
Then another.
Then another.
Rebecca's legs gave out.
She caught herself on the railing, breathing hard, vision swimming.
She had stopped counting after twenty.
By thirty, her mind had simply shut down.
Lencar stood unmoving at the center of it all.
Thirty different magic attributes.
Active.
Stable.
Simultaneous.
"This," he said quietly, "is my magic."
At once, every spell collapsed inward, dissolving like mist under sunlight. The room returned to stillness, as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.
Rebecca could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
"My magic allows me to develop and wield multiple attributes," Lencar continued, voice even. "Without rejection. Without degradation."
Dominante exhaled slowly.
"That's… not something the world allows."
"No," Lencar agreed. "It isn't."
He turned toward them, eyes sharp now.
"And that is exactly the problem."
"The nobles do not fear power," Lencar said. "They fear losing control over who is allowed to have it."
He looked directly at Rebecca.
"A magic like mine destroys their system. Bloodline superiority. Inherited authority. The idea that commoners are lesser by default."
Mariella's fingers curled slightly.
"They would never let you exist freely."
"They wouldn't," Lencar replied. "They would cage me. Restrict me. Brand me as dangerous. Or force me into service until I'm nothing more than a weapon they can point."
His voice hardened.
"I refuse."
The word rang through the chamber.
"I refuse to coexist under chains," he continued. "I refuse to live pretending that cruelty is order. And I refuse to accept a world where people are crushed simply because someone above them feels entitled."
Rebecca's chest tightened painfully.
She thought of her parents.
Of her mother's fear.
Of her father's resolve.
Of a letter written with the knowledge of death.
Lencar straightened.
"So this is my goal," he said. "To dismantle a system that allows that kind of oppression to exist."
Then he looked at them seriously.
"And now—you choose."
"If you're afraid, I will let you go. You can live ordinary lives, with restrictions, because you know too much. Or you can stay and see if this goal—however impossible—can be achieved."
His gaze softened.
"Either way, I will accept it."
Silence fell again.
Not forced.
Contemplative.
Rebecca felt her hands shake.
He's already walking this path, she realized. Alone, if he has to.
Half a minute passed.
Then she lifted her head.
"Lencar," she said.
He turned.
"I told you before," she continued, voice trembling but steadying with each word, "that I want to help you. No matter what you're doing."
Her eyes burned.
"And I meant it."
She took a breath.
"Even if this is dangerous. Even if the world turns against you. Even if what you're trying to do sounds impossible."
She straightened.
"I'll help you."
Dominante clicked her tongue.
"This is going to end terribly," she muttered.
Then she met Lencar's gaze.
"But you gave me a place to belong. A life where I don't have to hide."
She crossed her arms.
"So I'll help you too."
Mariella stepped forward last.
"I will help you," she said without hesitation.
Lencar blinked, then smirked faintly.
"Everyone gave reasons," he said lightly. "What about you?"
Mariella stared at him flatly.
"I don't need one."
For a moment, the weight lifted.
Lencar laughed softly.
Then he looked at all three of them, eyes bright with something dangerous and hopeful all at once.
"Then," he said, "welcome to the organization."
The runes in the chamber pulsed once.
As if acknowledging a vow.
And far above—
The world continued on, unaware that something irreversible had just begun.