The sun still hung high over Berk when Lucian returned to his house.
Midday light streamed through the narrow window slits, painting pale bands across the wooden floor. Outside, the village was alive with sound, hammers striking iron, voices rising and falling in familiar rhythm.
Lucian shut the door behind him and secured the latch.
Inside, the air was still.
He removed his outer layers and sat on the floor, legs folded neatly beneath him. His posture was straight, disciplined, almost practiced.
The body he inhabited bore no scars, no signs of battle or hardship. Smooth skin, unmarked and refined, like polished marble or porcelain shaped by careful hands rather than war. It was a prince's body, one raised in halls and courtyards, not battlefields. Even now, after a month of training and survival, that untouched quality remained.
What had changed wasn't damage, but use muscles, more responsive, balance, precise, movement no longer ornamental but purposeful.
In front of him rested a worn satchel.
Lucian exhaled through his nose, then reached forward and loosened the leather flap. His fingers brushed past other items until they closed around glass.
He lifted it out.
A bottle.
Inside rested a single pill, pure white and unblemished, almost glowing in the lamplight.
A translucent panel flickered briefly at the edge of his vision.
[Body Cleansing Pill: Created by alchemists of DunBroch using rare herbs, bear teeth, and woodsprite fruits. Removes bodily impurities and strengthens the physical form of a human upon consumption. Commonly bestowed upon champions of the Sköldr Games.]
Lucian regarded it silently.
"This better be worth it," he murmured.
He uncorked the bottle and swallowed the pill in one smooth motion.
Then he closed his eyes.
Lucian adjusted his posture, shoulders relaxed, spine aligned. His breathing slowed not forced but guided by familiarity. This was a method the body already knew.
The most basic cultivation technique taught within the Isles.
It was not advanced nor refined. The kingdom never prioritized magical development beyond necessity. Where other lands hoarded complex formulas and high-grade manuals, the Isles taught only this steady breathing, controlled circulation, and awareness of one's inner state.
The previous owner of this body had used it during magical training, repeating it endlessly because there was nothing else.
Lucian let that memory guide him.
He inhaled slowly through his nose, drawing the breath deep into his lungs. He held it not rigidly, but long enough for the body to settle, for the pulse to steady. Then he exhaled, long and measured, releasing tension with the air.
It followed the same rhythm as the 4–7–8 breathing technique he knew from his past life, inhale to gather, hold to stabilize, exhale to release.
Different origins.
Same principle.
Breath became rhythm. Rhythm became focus.
As his breathing evened out, warmth bloomed in his abdomen.
The pill dissolved, its effects flowing through his body like a quiet tide. Heat traced along muscle and vein, seeping into bone, pressing outward from his core. Lucian remained still, letting it move where it wished.
Minutes blurred into hours.
Steam rose faintly from his skin as the warmth intensified. His temperature climbed, beads of sweat forming along his neck and shoulders. Then the impurities came.
Dark residue seeped from his pores, thick, tar-like, streaked with red. It clung to his skin, dripping slowly onto the floor. The smell followed moments later, sharp and metallic, heavy enough to sting the nose.
Lucian's breathing faltered.
COUGH!
His body lurched forward as he gagged, coughing violently. More of the foul substance spilled from his mouth, splattering onto the wooden boards beneath him.
Lucian sucked in air, chest rising and falling as his eyes snapped open. His vision swam for a moment before stabilizing.
"…That was disgusting."
He pushed himself upright and paused.
Something was different.
His body didn't feel stronger in the dramatic sense. No sudden bulging muscle, no surge of brute power.
Instead…
He felt light.
As if something heavy he'd carried for years had been quietly lifted from his shoulders. His limbs moved with less resistance, joints responding instantly to intent. Breathing felt effortless, as if his lungs had been scrubbed clean. There was a sharpness to his senses, a clarity he hadn't realized he'd been missing.
Lucian flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders once.
"…Huh."
Satisfied he rose and stepped into the next room.
A bucket of cold water waited where he'd left it. Lucian grabbed a cloth and dunked it in, wincing slightly at the chill before scrubbing the residue from his skin.
____
The road leading through Berk creaked under heavy boots as Gobber stomped along, hook hand swinging while he talked.
"I'm tellin' you," he grumbled, voice loud enough to carry over the clamor of the village, "next week ain't a game. Monstrous Nightmare don't dance, don't play fair, and it definitely don't care if you're nervous."
Hiccup hurried to keep pace. "I know, I know, but still we already proved ourself today. Doesn't that count for something?"
"It counts for not gettin' eaten today," Gobber shot back. "That's about it."
Astrid walked ahead of them, axe resting on her shoulder..
Behind them, an old woman shuffled forward, staff tapping softly against the wood. She hadn't spoken a word since joining them, but her presence alone quieted the air.
Then they turned down a narrower stretch of road.
Gobber stopped short.
His nose wrinkled.
"…Whoa," he muttered. "Alright. That ain't right."
Astrid slowed. "What isn't—"
The smell hit them.
It was thick, sour, burnt and rotten all at once, like old blood left in the sun mixed with damp iron.
Hiccup gagged. "Okay, nope. Nope. That is not normal."
Gobber covered his nose with his sleeve. "Smells like somethin' crawled outta Hel, changed its mind, and died again."
Astrid pressed the back of her hand to her face. "Is there a pit nearby?"
Gothi stopped completely.
She lifted her head.
Sniffed once.
Then again.
Her cloudy eyes sharpened as she followed the scent down the road step by deliberate step until she stopped in front of a small house.
Lucian's house.
She frowned deeply and bent down, scratching symbols into the dirt with the tip of her staff.
Gobber leaned closer, squinting. "Huh… well I'll be—"
"What?" Hiccup asked.
"She's askin' who lives here."
Gobber straightened and glanced at Gothi. "That'd be Lucian. The outsider. Came from real far away."
Gothi shuffled forward and knocked sharply on the door.
Knock!! Knock!!
No answer.
She knocked again, hard enough to rattle the frame.
From inside, a muffled voice called, "Who is it?"
Gothi knocked again instead of answering.
"…I'm coming," the voice added.
Footsteps approached as the door creaked open.
Lucian stood there, damp-haired and bare-chested, water still clinging to his skin. His eyes flicked over the group, brows knitting slightly.
"What's going on?" he asked.
The moment his gaze landed on Gothi—
[Ding! You have met a special character: Gothi.]
[You have obtained a Rare Blind Box.]
Astrid stopped breathing.
Her eyes dropped before she could stop them and stayed there.
Lucian hadn't even noticed yet when Gothi suddenly jabbed him in the side with her staff, shoving him aside with surprising strength.
"W-What…?" Lucian muttered, stumbling back in confusion.
Gothi walked straight into the house, nose twitching. She crouched near the dark residue staining the floor, scooped some up with her fingers, rubbed it thoughtfully between them.
Then she stood, turned, and walked back outside.
She wrote again.
Gobber bent down, squinting harder. "She's askin'… you been messin' with magic lately?"
Lucian blinked. "…Yeah."
'Well', he added silently, 'technically the previous owner of this body did.'
Gothi scribbled again, faster this time.
Gobber swallowed. "She's asking if you drank something… and now can't use magic anymore."
Lucian stiffened. "That's… yeah. That's exactly what happened."
Gothi straightened, frowned deeply, then turned and waved her staff sharply down the road to follow her. She paused, glanced back at Lucian, and made the gesture again, more insistently.
Lucian looked at Gobber.
Gobber shrugged. "I've learned not to argue with her"
They started to move—
"Hold it."
Astrid turned back, eyes narrowing slightly.
She gestured pointedly at his chest. "Do you mind getting dressed?"
Lucian followed her gaze. Looked down.
"…That explains why it's cold," he muttered.
He looked back up at Astrid, a faint, teasing smile tugging at his lips. "What? Never seen someone who bathes?"
Astrid snorted despite herself and turned away. "Just hurry up."
But as she walked after Gothi, the faint red at the tips of her ears didn't fade.
______
A minute later, the door creaked open again.
Lucian stepped out fully dressed this time, dark tunic pulled snugly over his frame, boots laced, hair still slightly damp but tied back loosely. The sharp, unpleasant smell had faded with the breeze, though a faint trace still lingered near the doorway like a bad memory refusing to let go.
Gobber was already moving ahead, wooden foot thumping against the path. Gothi led the way beside him, staff tapping softly against the ground, Astrid walking just behind them.
Lucian fell into step at the back.
Hiccup drifted closer, hands shoved into his vest pockets, glancing sideways at him.
"So," he said casually, nose wrinkling despite himself, "what was that smell in your house?"
Lucian glanced at him, then smiled.
"Just an experiment," he said. "Something with herbs I found."
Hiccup slowed half a step.
"…Uh-huh."
He eyed Lucian suspiciously, clearly debating whether to ask more. After a moment, he decided against it and looked forward again.
Lucian, meanwhile tilted his head slightly, gaze drifting toward the small hunched figure walking ahead.
"So," he asked, tone light but curious, "who is she?"
Hiccup blinked. "What—?" Then it clicked. "Oh. You mean Gothi?"
Lucian nodded. "Yeah."
Hiccup scratched the back of his head as they walked. "She's the Wise Woman and Elder of the tribe. Kinda… knows things."
He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I heard the reason she doesn't talk is because of her past."
Lucian glanced at him. "Past?"
"Yeah," Hiccup murmured. "Apparently Gothi was born with an identical twin sister. When they were old enough, one of them had to give something up to become a tribe's Wise Woman."
Lucian listened quietly.
"Gothi gave up her voice," Hiccup continued. "Her sister gave up her eyesight."
He hesitated, then added, "Thing is… it was supposed to be the other way around. Gothi wasn't meant to be the one who lost her speech. But she stepped forward anyway."
Lucian's brow furrowed slightly.
"And because of that," Hiccup said softly, "her sister had to give up her sight instead. Guess it didn't sit well. They had a falling out."
He shrugged. "That's the rumor, anyway."
Lucian exhaled slowly. "I see."
They walked in silence for a few moments after that.
Then Gothi stopped.
So did everyone else.
Ahead of them stood a small, weathered structure tucked slightly away from the rest of the village, bones hanging from the beams, strange symbols carved into the wood, the air around it feeling… heavier.
Gothi turned, staff tapping once against the ground.
This was her abode.