Selenne watched him in silence, not answering his statement—not challenging it either.
Not yet.
Lucavion sat there, steady, that irritating little twist of amusement still playing faintly across his features. He looked relaxed, but everything about him was coiled—the casual posture, the ease in his tone, the deliberate lack of reverence.
And yet…
Her mind turned.
He is a mystery.
Not because she lacked information. No, she had watched the entire entrance examination broadcast. Alone, of course. Always alone. She preferred it that way. No noise. No bias. No other eyes trying to tell her what she should see.
And what she saw…
Lucavion's performance was not just impressive—that word was far too small.
He wasn't merely gifted. He wasn't polished like a noble's child trained since birth, nor was he brutish like some war-born talent who survived off instinct. He moved like someone who had learned the rules just to dismantle them.
There was grace in his swordwork, yes.
