Looking around, Lucid wasn't particularly thrilled. One of the figures stepped forward, unsheathing a dagger. It was a specific make, with a familiar curve to the blade—the same kind he had given Ayame back in the Red Mountains.
There weren't a lot of them. Four in the open. But his heightened sense, the Chain of Heart trait attuned to the flow of fate, felt more. Faint, shimmering presences, like heat haze, lingered in the deep shadows of the surrounding buildings. Back-up. He looked at the four, his real assessment not on their weapons, but on the threads of fate essence he could now perceive woven just above them. One shimmered with a faint blue light. Another was a dull purple. The range was from E to D rank. The most imposing one, the leader with the light blue thread, pulsed with a steadier intensity. C-rank, maybe.
"Surrender, and you won't have to get hurt," the leader said, his voice muffled by the cloth mask.
Lucid let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "Oh, my friend... I am already hurt."
A snort came from the back of the group—a female, laughing behind her mask. "Is this the guy we're supposed to capture? The one who narrowly escaped Sir Silas?"
"Yeah, I say we just kill him."
"He doesn't even look like an Awakened. Not even latent."
Lucid's eyes scanned them as they poked fun, but his focus remained on the leader. He saw the man take a subtle step back, the grip on his dagger tightening ever so slightly, the blade trembling.
'Ohhh...' Lucid thought. 'He senses it.'
"How... an Enlightened?" the leader muttered, the confidence in his voice cracking.
The others around him looked at their leader, confused. "An Enlightened? I can barely feel any fate essence from him!"
"Hush, you Latent," another snapped. "Our leader is an Awakened. He can sense others."
Lucid took a single, deliberate step forward.
The leader took two steps back. "Screw this!" the impatient female in the group yelled. She broke formation and charged, a short blade appearing in her hand.
Lucid looked at her. She was... slow. Terribly slow. His perception, enhanced by the Chain of Heart, made her movements seem like a tired pantomime.
'The Chain of Heart at work again...'
He didn't move from his spot. He simply raised a hand and manifested a single, sharp link of white chain. It shot out with a soft chime, not at her heart, but at her forward knee. It pierced through with a sickening crunch.
"Lucid, such cruelty!" Alice gasped within.
"Ahhh!" The woman's charge became a tumble as her leg gave way. She hit the hard-packed earth with a cry, clutching her bleeding knee and yelping in pain.
The others recoiled, their bravado evaporating.
Lucid walked closer, his footsteps silent on the dirt. "Do you really think," he said, his voice low and devoid of all theatricality, "I am in the mood to play hero?"
The leader's eyes narrowed behind his mask. With a sharp "Tch!" he brandished his dagger and lunged, a blur of dark cloth aimed straight for Lucid's neck. In the split second before contact, another chain materialized in the air between them, intercepting the blade. The dagger shattered against the luminous white links with the sound of breaking glass. The leader hissed, leaping back, his hand now empty and stinging. In his retreat, he grabbed the injured woman by her collar, dragging her away from Lucid.
"He... he's a monster!" one of the others cried out, his nerve breaking. He turned and ran. The leader, meanwhile, kept his eyes locked on Lucid, taking in every detail with dawning, fearful comprehension.
Lucid looked down at his own hands. 'A monster. Yes, I suppose I am.' A wave of phantom sea spray, the haunting howl of a whale, crashed briefly in his mind. 'Neptune...' He shook his head, clearing the echo, and looked back at the remaining assailants.
"I suggest you fuck off," he stated, his tone flat and final. "Before I pierce your eyes next." He held up the small, glowing chain fragment still hovering near his fingers. "And that wound won't heal. It's corrosive fate essence." He gestured vaguely with his other hand as if holding a vial. "One drop of this, and you'll contract the Withering." He offered them a malicious, empty smile. "I'm sure the Chapeu know what that is. After all, you guys are the best at it."
The leader's shoulders tensed. "Damn you... I'll be back. Just you wait." It was a retreat masked as a threat. He signaled sharply, and the remaining two grabbed their wounded companion. They turned and fled into the maze of alleys, their sloppy fate essence fading like a bad smell.
"Lucid..." Alice's voice was hesitant. "You... you are not as unflinching as you pretend. The 'corrosive fate essence' was a lie. A bluff."
"But," Lucid replied inwardly, his gaze still on the spot where they'd vanished, "one thing I learned from my group on Earth is that if you don't enact your will, if you merely shroud yourself in words... the world will not hesitate to grind you into the dust. So you fight. Even if violence isn't the answer, you fight. And if that doesn't work, then you run. What does it matter if you're considered brave or a coward when you're dead?" He let out a long, weary breath. "I'm done playing."
Alice was silent for a moment. "That's..."
Lucid turned in a slow circle, his arms spread wide in the empty field, addressing the silent, watching shadows in the carved wooden buildings. His voice, when it came, was clear and cold, carrying across the open space.
"Come! I dare you! I will bash your skulls and break your limbs before you can make me bleed!"
One by one, the distant, shimmering threads of fate he had sensed in the shadows winked out, disappearing like smoke. They weren't regrouping. They were fleeing.
The field was empty again. Lucid lowered his arms, the brief, fierce energy draining away, leaving only the familiar, hollow exhaustion and the scent of dry earth and his own lingering guilt.He walked out of the back alleys and into the bustling streets of Vex's upper district. It was… uniform. Orderly. It wasn't the chaotic, crowded markets of Tyriana, nor was it an empty lane. Stalls were arranged with neat precision, their wares displayed with care. Guards in crisp blue uniforms patrolled with a rhythmic, unhurried pace. It was, undeniably, a beautiful place. The order soothed something in him, even as it felt alien. He supposed it was because he was in the higher district, but he couldn't help but marvel at the clean, quiet efficiency of it all.
He stopped before a public notice board, its surface covered in official decrees, community announcements, and a handful of wanted posters. His eyes, aided by the minor gift of enhanced reading Alice provided, skimmed over them. One poster in particular caught his attention. It depicted a young man with artfully curled hair, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and a smile that promised trouble.
"Pilt the Generous Scoundrel," Lucid read the title aloud softly.
"My, what an individual he must be to earn such a reputation," Alice shared her thoughts, a note of dry amusement in her mental voice.
"Young man…"
Lucid turned around.
"You seem troubled."
A woman stood there, beneath the shade of a striped awning. She wore a dramatic, wide-brimmed purple hat, its size so immense it seemed to double the width of her shoulders, obscuring the upper half of her face in deep shadow. Only the lower part was visible—a line of lips that seemed slightly, unsettlingly off, painted a dark berry hue. Curly, moss-green hair of medium length tumbled loosely from beneath the hat, a vibrant contrast to her purple ensemble. Her voice was raspy, yet it held a strange, charming cadence that was oddly enticing.
'A fortune teller?' Lucid thought.
"Lucid, do you want to stop by her? I feel like… mnngh." Alice's mental voice cut off, a sharp pang of discomfort lancing through their connection.
"What is it? Are you okay?" he asked inwardly.
He found himself walking toward her small setup, a simple wooden table and two chairs tucked by the fence of a stone building. As he sat down, a slight smile tugged at the woman's visible lips, revealing a sly, mischievous curve and a perfect set of white teeth.
"Sit down, young man. Oh my, you youngsters seem to get younger every single year," she crooned, her raspy voice full of playful mockery.
"What?" Lucid asked, nonplussed.
"An old hag like me couldn't possibly be able to sway your attention," she said, waving a hand adorned with several silver rings.
"What do you mean? You look young, though…"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she clicked her tongue. "I am older than you think. What is your name, traveler?"
"Lucid."
"Oooh, Lucid. A name that shines like an unyielding echo of clarity. A most fitting name for you." She leaned forward slightly, the shadow from her hat deepening. "But I see… you have a fog shrouding your face. A most peculiar fog."
"Oh, really?" Lucid asked, his tone flat.
"Yes, most indeed. I cannot dissipate it for you. However, I can perhaps shed some insight on the right path to take to clear it yourself, young man."
"How much?"
Her lips pursed in exaggerated thought. "For you? On the house." She smiled again, that same mischievous, knowing smile.
'How suspicious,' Lucid thought, but he didn't move. His curiosity, and Alice's strange reaction, held him in place.
"Give me your hand."
He extended his right hand across the small table. Her fingers, cool and dry, brushed his palm briefly before she let go and produced a deck of cards. Not the ornate, illustrated tarot cards he might have expected, but a simple, well-worn deck of standard playing cards. She shuffled them with a fluid, practiced grace, then performed a quick, showy fanning motion, revealing four cards held neatly in her palm.
"Are you using poker cards for fortune telling?" Lucid couldn't help but ask.
"Mmmh, yes," she hummed, unbothered.
"How unprofessional. Normally you'd use tarot cards."
"Tsk, tsk. Such ignorance, kind traveler. An old lady like me has her ways." Her tone was light, but it held a hint of steel. "Whatever…" Lucid muttered under his breath.
She placed the four cards face down on the table, lining them up neatly in a row between them. Lucid looked at the backs of the cards, then up at the shadow beneath her hat.
"Lucid," she said, her raspy voice dropping to a near whisper. "Some things are better left unknown than known. Are you sure you wish to see?"
He nodded once, a sharp, decisive motion.
Alice's voice was a quiet murmur in his mind. "Curiosity is a human trait."
The fortune teller gave a slow, confirming nod. "Very well."