After he finished his breakfast, Lucas stood, dusted off his hands, and grabbed his cloak from the chair. The morning sun was already climbing through the high windows of the dorm, casting warm light across the room.
"Let’s go," he said, nodding at Lira.
She followed closely behind him, walking a step behind, as always. As they reached the academy courtyard, he stopped and turned to her.
"Go and have some fun, Lira. Don’t wait around here all day," he said, his voice gentle. "Meet me back around midday, alright?"
Lira blinked, a little surprised. "Yes, Master..." she bowed slightly, though her voice held a note of hesitation. Truthfully, she would’ve preferred to stay by his side all day if she could. But she also knew he wanted her to have some independence, and she didn��t want to disappoint him. A small, grateful smile formed on her lips. "Thank you."
He nodded and gave her a brief smile before turning toward the training grounds.
Lira lingered for a second, watching his back as he walked away, then turned and headed off toward the servant’s quarters, quietly happy. Not every servant was granted that kind of freedom. Most weren’t even acknowledged.
As for Lucas, he made his way across the academy grounds. The wide-open fields and towering pavilions were already filling with students, some heading to their scheduled classes, others gathering for drills and sparring. His robes fluttered slightly with each step, and a few passing students glanced at him with curiosity or whispered behind their hands.
He was supposed to be attending the Cultivation Technique class that morning... but Lucas scoffed internally.
"I don’t need those basic instructions," he thought. "What I have is far superior. Dual Cultivation isn’t something these instructors can even dream of teaching."
No—what he needed right now was combat training. The ability to hold his ground in battle, to overwhelm enemies not just with energy but with sheer skill and power. Techniques alone wouldn’t save him from what was coming. Not in this chaotic world filled with scheming nobles, political unrest, and dangerous monsters.
His mind wandered briefly as he reached the edge of the training field. "I’ve lived in a world where one had to fight to survive... where power was scarce, and only the elite held dominance. Here, the energy is abundant—but it’s still the strong who rule."
"I’ll become one of them."
And with that, he stepped onto the training grounds, eyes sharp, body steady.
When Lucas arrived at the academy’s combat training field, the sharp scent of sweat, dust, and burning qi stung the air. The place was alive with motion—students sparring in pairs, instructors barking orders, dummies being blasted apart by elemental arts, and training weapons clashing with force and fury.
Some students focused on form, their movements elegant and disciplined. Others fought with brute strength, their strikes wild and heavy. It was chaotic, loud, and full of energy—but to Lucas, it was a beautiful kind of chaos. It reminded him of battlefields from his past life. He stood at the edge for a moment, letting his eyes sweep across the grounds.
His gaze passed over the sparring dummies. Dozens of them lined up, each enchanted to respond to strikes, dodges, and attacks with a limited degree of intelligence. They were good for beginners... but Lucas had no intention of wasting time with something that couldn’t think, adapt, or fight back like a real human.
He needed something more—someone more.
Not just any student. A strong one. Someone who could give him a proper challenge. Someone who would push him to the edge and make him feel like he was actually progressing. There was no growth in comfort or safety. Only in blood and bruises did real power come.
With that in mind, he found a stone bench at the side of the field and sat down, crossing one leg over the other as he watched. His eyes flicked from fight to fight, analyzing footwork, strength, reaction time. Most of them were average at best. Flashy, yes. But too wasteful. Their movements were sluggish. Their energy use was inefficient.
"So much Qi in this world," he thought, "and these people are squandering it with poor form and weak will."
It frustrated him. Back in the future, cultivators fought for even a thread of Qi. Here, it flowed like an endless river... and yet these people lacked the desperation, the hunger, to master it.
He leaned back, tilting his head slightly toward the sky. The sun was warm against his face, but his heart felt cold. It had been a while since he’d stopped thinking about his sister—but now, the quiet moments made it worse.
"Is she out there somewhere?" he wondered. "Alive in another era like me? Or... did she vanish for good?" He kept asking himself the questions.
No answer came. Just silence. The kind of silence that made your chest ache.
He exhaled slowly and pushed the thoughts away. This wasn’t the time for sorrow. He had a goal—a future to claim.
Just then, as he was about to rise and ask one of the stronger-looking students for a match, something changed in the air.
A subtle scent drifted past him. Soft, floral, but sharp and commanding. He paused, nose twitching slightly. The scent was familiar—not one he’d known in his past life, but since coming here, he’d picked up on it once before.
He turned his head to the side.
Princess Nyx was walking across the training grounds.
Her presence was like a ripple in the air, drawing attention without trying. Every step she took was poised, and her long midnight-black hair flowed like liquid silk down her back. She wore a high-collared black and silver robe that shimmered with faint enchantments—one of the royal battle robes, tailored to enhance speed and power.
Her expression was unreadable. Cold. Regal. The kind of gaze that made others lower their heads instinctively.
But Lucas didn’t look away.
He sat there, watching her approach, unmoving.