Behind them, voices echoed from the main square. Garrik's booming laugh, Kale's chatter, Rynn's clipped responses.

The younger hunters were gathering again, adrenaline not quite spent. Lucen turned his head slightly to listen.

"…I'm telling you," Kale was saying, "the copies don't react instantly, they lag by maybe a tenth of a second. If I can phase during that gap—"

"You'll get yourself killed," Rynn cut in flatly.

Lucen smirked faintly. 'At least they're learning.'

Selindra's voice rose above the rest. "If you're done theorizing, get food. Then sleep. We're not patching you up twice in one day."

Lucen pushed off the railing and started toward the mess hall. Varik followed a few steps behind, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

The island's light shifted as the sun sank lower, shadows stretching long over the training grounds. For the first time in a long while, there wasn't screaming or sirens or the metallic tang of blood in the air, just quiet.

Lucen didn't trust it.

As they passed a supply shed, something flickered in the corner of his eye, his reflection in the window lagging half a heartbeat behind. He stopped. Looked closer.

Nothing. Just glass. Just his face.

Still, his pulse ticked faster.

'Not gone,' he thought. 'Just sleeping.'

He let out a slow breath and turned back toward the smell of food.

Tomorrow would come, and with it, another test. Another chance to keep what was inside him from waking up.

And somewhere deep beneath the island, under stone and containment seals, the relic pulsed once, softly, like it had heard his thoughts.

The night settled softly over the island, bringing with it a rare calm that Lucen wasn't sure he knew how to handle.

The ocean murmured in the distance, waves whispering against the cliffs like a lullaby, and for once, no alarms, no screams, no burning sky.

He sat on the wooden balcony outside the barracks, boots propped against the railing, a mug of something warm in his hand.

The liquid tasted faintly of spice and salt; one of the island cooks swore it "helped calm the mana nerves." Lucen didn't believe that for a second, but it was nice to hold something that wasn't crackling with energy for once.

The moon hung low, pale light brushing across the training fields below. He could still see faint scorch marks from the earlier anomaly duels, but now they looked almost artistic, scars turned to patterns.

Footsteps approached from behind, light but sure.

"Didn't think you'd be the type to sit still," came Rynn's voice.

Lucen didn't turn. "Didn't think you'd be the type to sneak up on people."

"I wasn't sneaking. You're just distracted."

He huffed, taking another sip. "Guess I'm getting soft."

Rynn leaned against the railing beside him, her bow slung casually over one shoulder. The usual sharpness in her eyes was softened by the moonlight. She glanced at his drink, then at him. "You actually like that stuff?"

"Not really. But it's quiet. I'll take quiet over flavor."

She smiled faintly. "That's new."

Lucen arched an eyebrow. "What is?"

"You, being quiet."

He thought about that for a second, then shrugged. "Maybe the ocean stole my ego."

"Unlikely," she said dryly.

For a while, they just listened to the sound of the waves. It wasn't awkward, just… strange. A kind of peace neither of them trusted, but neither wanted to ruin.

"Back in the city," Rynn said finally, her voice quieter, "when the rift opened… you didn't hesitate. You just moved. Like you'd already seen it happen."

Lucen's gaze stayed on the horizon. "Maybe I had."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." He took another drink. "Just saying I've seen enough breaks to know how the story usually ends."

Rynn studied him for a moment, then looked away. "You ever get tired of pretending you don't care?"

Lucen's lips twitched into a small smile. "You ever get tired of trying to figure people out?"

She chuckled. "Fair."

The barracks door creaked again, heavier footsteps this time. Garrik stepped out, his armor half-off, chestplate slung under one arm. "You two planning to brood all night, or can we talk like actual people?"

Lucen waved lazily. "Brooding's my brand. You'd ruin it."

"Good," Garrik said, setting the armor down with a thud and grabbing a seat on the steps. "About time someone ruined it."

Rynn smirked. "And what's your excuse for being awake?"

Garrik stretched, shoulders cracking. "Couldn't sleep. The bunk's too small. Feels like trying to nap inside a weapons locker."

Lucen grinned faintly. "That's because you're built like a siege engine."

"Better than built like a twig."

Rynn sighed. "And we're back to this."

Lucen laughed quietly, an actual laugh this time, light and unguarded. "You two are the worst kind of company."

"Admit it," Garrik said, smirking. "You missed having company at all."

Lucen didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence said enough.

The three of them sat like that for a long while, the kind of silence that didn't demand to be filled. Above them, stars glimmered faintly between slow-moving clouds.

Eventually, Garrik stood, yawning. "I'm turning in. Try not to brood yourselves into an existential crisis before dawn."

Rynn snorted. "No promises."

When the door shut behind him, the night grew softer again.

Lucen exhaled, leaning back against the railing. "He's right though. I'm usually worse company."

Rynn looked at him. "You're not that bad. You just pretend to be."

He blinked, caught off guard by how simply she said it. Then he smiled, small, tired. "You're terrible at letting people have their flaws in peace."

"I'm an archer," she said. "I aim for the weak spots."

He chuckled at that, quiet and genuine. "Fair."

The ocean wind picked up again, brushing through their hair. Down below, the faint glow of the training grounds flickered out as the last lights went dim.

Lucen glanced up at the sky, eyes half-lidded. "Feels weird," he murmured.

"What does?"

"Being alive," he said softly. "Without something trying to kill me."

Rynn didn't respond immediately. Then, after a moment, "You'll get used to it."

"I'm not sure I want to."

She looked at him sidelong. "You say that like peace is dangerous."

He gave her a faint grin. "For me? It might be."

They stayed like that until the moon dipped lower, until even the waves grew quieter.

When Lucen finally stood, stretching his arms with a groan, Rynn was already half-asleep against the railing, bow still leaning by her side. He didn't wake her. Just set his empty cup down beside her and turned for the door.

Inside, the barracks were dim and warm. Kale was sprawled across his bed, snoring softly, one hand clutching a dagger like he'd forgotten to put it away. Garrik's bunk creaked faintly with every breath.

Lucen lay down on his cot, staring at the ceiling. For the first time in years, he didn't feel tension buzzing under his skin, no battle-high, no mana pressure, no voices whispering from the abyss. Just stillness.

He closed his eyes.

And for once, the darkness stayed quiet.

The first thing Lucen noticed when he woke wasn't the light. It was the sound.

Laughter.

He cracked one eye open. Morning sunlight filtered through the barracks' cracked shutters, casting bright stripes across the wooden floor. Outside, voices overlapped, new ones, loud, unfiltered, the kind of energy that only belonged to fresh arrivals.

Lucen sat up slowly, rubbing a hand through his hair. Kale's bunk was empty. Rynn's bow was gone. Garrik's armor had vanished. Apparently, he was the last to get up.

'Perfect. The model hunter. Late to his own vacation.'

He swung his legs over the side of the cot, stood, and stretched until his spine cracked. His system flickered briefly into view at the edge of his vision.

[Level: 55]

[Mana Pool: 420/420]

[Status: Stable – Corruption at 2.7%]

[Passive Field: Abyssal Resonance (suppressed)]

'Good enough.' He dismissed it with a thought and stepped out into the sunlight.

The air hit him like warmth bottled from another world, clean, bright, humming faintly with ambient mana. The island really was different. You could taste the energy here, thick but not hostile, like the place itself was alive but in no hurry.

The training field stretched wide below the barracks, a flat ring of pale sand surrounded by tall palm-like trees whose leaves shimmered faintly with embedded runes. And on that field, chaos.

At least two dozen hunters moved about, sparring, shouting, laughing. Some were veterans, the kind who wore scars like accessories. Others were clearly fresh transfers, wide-eyed, trying to look competent while nearly tripping over their own mana channels.

Rynn was there, already loosing arrows in smooth rhythm toward a hovering mana target that kept dodging. Each shot curved through the air mid-flight, following the faint distortion trails like guided comets. She didn't miss once.

Garrik was arguing with a tall woman in red plate armor about "proper shield form," which looked suspiciously like a competition to see who could break the training dummies faster.

And Kale? Nowhere visible. Which meant he was probably invisible. Again.

Lucen yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Too early for optimism."

"Finally awake," came Varik's voice from nearby.

Lucen turned. The man stood by the shade of the main watchtower, arms folded, expression unreadable as always. His dark coat stirred faintly in the sea breeze.

"You let me sleep in," Lucen said, pretending to accuse.

"You needed it."

"I also need money, but I don't see you fixing that."

Varik ignored the jab. "You'll want to meet the newcomers. They're under FHA contract, assigned to the island for long-term drift clearance."

Lucen raised a brow. "So this isn't just a break spot anymore?"

"It never was."

That got a quiet exhale from Lucen. "Figures."

They started walking down the steps toward the field. Varik's presence carried the usual weight — calm but absolute. Hunters straightened when he passed. Even the loud ones toned down.

Lucen, in contrast, shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched slightly, the picture of nonchalance.

"Try not to scare them," Varik said without looking back.

"Me?" Lucen grinned. "You're the one built like a final boss."

"Lucen."

"Fine, fine. I'll be polite." He paused. "Mostly."

They reached the edge of the training ring just as a trio of unfamiliar hunters approached.

The first was a stocky man with a shaved head and intricate tattoos glowing faintly across his arms, glyphs, maybe. His armor was reinforced leather, the kind favored by brawlers who didn't bother with subtlety.

"Name's Orren," he said, offering a gloved hand to Lucen. "Frontline breaker."

Lucen shook it absently. "Lucen. Professional paperwork avoider."

Orren blinked, then laughed. "Fair enough."

The second was a lithe woman with black hair tied in a knot and a faint scar running along her jaw. She carried twin daggers at her hips and moved like her body was always half in motion, balanced, restless.

"Talia," she said, curtly. Her voice was low and calm.

Lucen nodded once. "You the quiet type or the stabby type?"

She smirked. "Both."

"Respect."

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