"Come," Lucen said calmly as he slid his longsword from his back and held it at his side. Its sheath was still on, and he showed no intention of drawing it—instead, he simply stood there, loose and balanced, waiting for Adyr to move first.
"Let's see what your future holds for a sword," his voice even, carrying a quiet assurance that felt like an unspoken challenge.
Adyr didn't sense even a trace of arrogance in him.
So this is what they call a genius, he thought as he studied his posture.
Lucen stood there as if a breeze could come and go without disturbing him. Wind tugged gently at his long hair and white robe, yet his feet stayed rooted as though carved into the ground. He was shorter than Adyr and showed no obvious strength, but looking at him felt like staring up at a mountain.
