The training hall of the Thorne manor was a cavernous space of white light and humming energy.
It was a place where the air tasted of ozone and the walls were reinforced with anti-impact mana-seals. From the high observation gallery, Marquis Thorne watched as Silas moved through a complex series of strikes, his mana-blade leaving trails of blue light in the air.
But the Marquis's mind was elsewhere. He kept seeing the image of Lucian on that park bench, staring at a sky that held nothing.
Below, on the main floor, the glass doors slid open. Lucian entered, his movements slow and heavy. He looked like a man who was carrying the weight of the entire building on his shoulders.
He didn't look at Silas, he didn't look at the flashing lights. He simply aimed for the far exit that led to the residential wing.
"Lucian! You're back!"
Lily scrambled down from her seat in the spectator area, her small boots clattering on the floor. She ran to her brother, her face bright with relief.
"Where did you go? You missed the afternoon tea! Hans wouldn't tell me anything!"
Lucian stopped, looking down at her. He felt a dull ache in his chest, a mixture of physical lethargy and the persistent noise of her affection. He opened his mouth to give a brief, dismissive answer, but the air in the room suddenly changed.
A sharp, digital scream echoed through the hall.
One of the high-velocity training drones, overloaded by the intensity of Silas's mana-discharge, had its navigation core shatter.
It didn't return to its cradle. Instead, it spun wildly, its jagged, rotating blades glowing with a volatile red light. It locked onto the largest cluster of mana, the space where Lucian stood, and lunged forward at a speed that blurred the air.
Silas's eyes went wide. "Lucian! Move!"
From the gallery, the Marquis stood up, his hand reaching for the railing.
Lucian looked at the drone. In his mind, time slowed to a crawl, a relic of his life as a Sword Saint. He saw every rotation of the blades. He saw the exact angle of the impact.
He knew that a simple two-inch shift to the left would let the machine whistle past him harmlessly.
He didn't move.
He looked at the incoming death with a terrifyingly calm curiosity. He felt no fear, no adrenaline. He only felt a flicker of hope. 'Is this it? Is the universe finally letting me go?'
He felt Lily's hand on his sleeve, her small body standing directly in the path the drone would take if it missed him. So he had no choice but to push her out of the way.
*Crash!
The sound of metal hitting bone and flesh was sickeningly loud in the quiet hall. Lucian was thrown backward, his body skidding across the floor. The drone shattered against his shoulder, its broken blades biting deep into his arm before the safety overrides finally cut the power.
"Lucian!" Silas roared, dropping his practice sword and sprinting across the room.
The Marquis was already vaulting over the gallery railing, his face a mask of horror.
Lucian lay on the floor, the cold tile soaking up the warm, dark blood spreading from his shoulder. He looked up at the ceiling lights, his vision blurring. He felt the pain, sharp and insistent, but beneath it, there was only a profound disappointment.
'I'm still breathing. Why am I still breathing?'
Silas reached him first, dropping to his knees. He grabbed Lucian by the collar of his shirt, his face flushed with a mixture of panic and fury.
"What is wrong with you?!" Silas screamed, his voice cracking. "I saw you! You were looking right at it! You didn't even flinch! Why didn't you dodge, you idiot?! You could have died! You pushed Lily away so why!?"
Lucian looked at Silas, his golden-flecked eyes dazed. He didn't have the strength to explain that death was exactly what he was waiting for.
"Brother..."
A small, shaking voice broke the tension. Lily crawled from behind Lucian, her face pale and her eyes filled with tears. She looked at the blood on his shirt and then at Silas, her lower lip trembling.
"He... he didn't move because of me," she sobbed, clutching Lucian's uninjured hand. "He was standing right in front of me. If he didn't pushed me... it would have also hit me. He saved me, Silas! He saved me!"
The silence that followed was absolute.
Silas's grip on Lucian's collar loosened. He looked from his bloodied brother to the terrified child, his brain struggling to reconcile the "Trash of the Thorne family" with the man who had just stood as a living shield for his sister.
The Marquis reached them, his footsteps heavy. He looked down at Lucian, his eyes searching his son's empty expression. He didn't see a hero. He didn't see a tyrant. He saw a man who had looked at a lethal strike and didn't care enough to step out of its way.
"Hans!" the Marquis bellowed, his voice shaking with a rare emotion. "Get the medical team! Now!"
Lucian closed his eyes, the sound of the frantic voices fading into the background. He didn't care about the hero's label they were pinning on him.
He only cared that his shoulder hurt, the room was too loud, and he was still, unfortunately, very much alive.
'Well too bad...'