The door to his apartment closed with that same tired click it always made, metal latching against a frame two millimeters off-center, a sound he could recognize even half-asleep.
Lucen stepped inside and didn't move for a moment.
He just stood in the dark.
Boots on the entry mat. Hands still in his coat pockets. The distant hum of mana converters in the walls buzzing like a fridge with too many old spells in it.
The air smelled faintly of soldered threadwire and ozone, leftover from last week's failed spark glyph he hadn't bothered cleaning.
It was home.
Sort of.
Lucen shrugged off his coat and let it drop on the armrest of the couch. Didn't hang it. Didn't unlace the gloves either.
He crossed the small room, two steps to the fridge, one to the counter, and pulled out something cold, not to drink, just to hold. A bottle with condensation slicking over his fingers.
His system pinged softly.
[Mana: 52 / 148]
[Recovery: 2.6/sec]
[Draft Spell Slot: 1/3 Filled]
