Xavier shifts into a defensive stance, readying himself for the battle ahead. Lucian, however, remains perfectly still, his posture relaxed but focused. Unlike Selene, who had come at Xavier with ferocity and unpredictability, Lucian seems almost eerily calm. He doesn’t move an inch—just stands there, unblinking, his deep green eyes locked on Xavier’s.

Seconds pass, and the silence between them feels heavy, as if charged with anticipation. Xavier tightens his grip, bracing himself, waiting for Lucian to make the first move. But nothing happens.

Then, Lucian lifts his hand slowly, casually. His index finger extends, and he points it directly at Xavier, like a gun. Xavier’s instincts scream at him to move, to dodge whatever’s coming, but as he tries to step to the side, he feels something tug at his feet. Glancing down, his stomach sinks—vines, thick and twisted, have snaked up from the ground, wrapping around his boots and rooting him in place.

“What the—” Xavier struggles, trying to free himself, but the vines only tighten, their grip unrelenting.

Lucian’s lips curl into a faint smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You should always watch your footing, Styx. Vitaeldur's vampires are pretty good at making the earth… shift under you.”

Xavier grits his teeth, pulling at the vines with his hands, but they won’t budge. The more he struggles, the tighter they grip. Lucian still hasn’t moved, just standing there with his finger pointed at him, like he has all the time in the world.

“You know,” Lucian says, his voice calm and almost conversational, “I watched your duel and boy, quite a spectacle alright. But you're out of your depth against me.”

Xavier’s eyes narrow, frustration rising. “I don’t need a lecture.”

Lucian chuckles softly, finally lowering his hand. “Maybe not. But you’re getting one anyway.”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Lucian makes a pulling gesture, and the vines tighten further, locking Xavier’s legs completely. Xavier grimaces, feeling the sharp pinch of the vines as they dig into his skin.

“Relax,” Lucian adds, taking a few steps forward. “I’m not here to tear you apart. This is just a friendly match, right?”

Xavier watches him warily, still trying to figure out his next move. “You’ve got a funny idea of ‘friendly.’”

Lucian shrugs, now standing just a few feet away from Xavier. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it by now. But…” He trails off, glancing down at Xavier’s trapped feet, then back to his face. “Let’s see how you get out of this.”

Xavier tightens his jaw, his mind racing. Lucian had control of plant life, manipulating it to keep him immobilized. The vines were a show of that, but there had to be a way to break free.

Before he can decide on a plan, Lucian's arm flicks, and a sharp crack splits the air. A thin shard of wood—no bigger than a bullet—shoots toward him. Xavier tries to dodge, but the vines lock him down, and the projectile pierces his chest, sinking deep into his body.

A sharp pain blossoms through Xavier's torso, and Lucian's grin grows wider. "You didn’t think I’d let you stand there all day, did you?"

Xavier clenches his fists, the pain thrumming in his chest. But something strange happens—without fully understanding how, he feels his body shifting, almost slipping through the vines, as if they no longer hold the same grip on him. His legs, once bound tight, suddenly feel free.

Lucian’s smirk falters for a split second, confusion flashing in his eyes as Xavier moves—no, blurs forward, faster than either of them expected.

"Shit!" Lucian blurts out, raising his hand in a desperate attempt to block, but Xavier is already too close.

In that instant, Xavier understand how or why he slipped free—but he just knows that he’s closing the gap, ready to make his move.

Xavier’s fist drives into Lucian’s gut, but something feels off. Instead of the satisfying impact of flesh and bone, it’s like hitting solid steel. Lucian staggers back a step but barely seems fazed.

Straightening, Lucian gives a small, amused chuckle, his hand brushing over the spot Xavier struck. “Nice punch, but it’s not quite enough, is it?”

Xavier’s eyes narrow, catching the wooden armor beneath Lucian’s shirt. “You’re using armor… made of wood?”

Lucian shrugs, a playful grin spreading across his face. “A little reinforcement never hurt anyone. You didn’t think I’d leave myself completely open, did you?”

Before Xavier can fully grasp the situation, Lucian swiftly crosses his index and middle fingers, forming a spiral in his fingers. “But enough warm-up,” he says, twisting his wrist. In an instant, a shotgun blast of wooden shrapnel erupts from his hand, rocketing toward Xavier.

Xavier manages to dodge most of the blast, though the shrapnel grazes his arms and legs, leaving stinging scratches. He lands in a crouch, breathing heavily, but still standing.

Lucian’s smirk widens, the air between them thick with tension. He raises his hand slowly, palm open toward Xavier, as if savoring the moment. “You’ve got some fight in you,” he says, his voice calm but laced with finality. “But enough playing around.”

His fingers twitch slightly as he draws a breath, eyes locking onto Xavier’s. The word that slips from his lips is barely more than a whisper, yet it carries an immense weight.

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“Floreat.”

Suddenly, Xavier feels an excruciating, tearing pain radiate from the shrapnel wound lodged in his chest. It feels like something is clawing its way out from within him, ripping apart his insides. He stumbles, clutching the wound, gasping in agony. His legs give out, and he crashes onto his knees, struggling to keep consciousness. The world around him grows dim, his vision blurring as the pain intensifies.

His grip on reality slips.

Suddenly, he finds himself standing in a dark, quiet space. It’s not the arena anymore—this place feels different, distant. Shadows twist around him, and yet, there’s a stillness in the air.

Then, she appears.

The pale-haired woman steps out of the void, her soft features framed by the silver glow of her long hair. Xavier's heart races—or at least, it feels like it should, but he feels strangely calm here, as though some part of him recognizes this woman beyond the surface level.

"You..." His voice trembles slightly, uncertain. "Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you?"

She remains silent for a moment, her expression unreadable, as if she herself doesn’t have the answers. Slowly, she walks toward him, her steps soundless. When she speaks, her voice is soft but tinged with sadness. "I don't remember who I am, or who I used to be. But I do know that the answers you seek—the ones about us, about why we are connected—lie in understanding what keeps you grounded. What clips your wings."

Xavier frowns, his thoughts spinning. "Clips my wings? What does that mean?"

She looks at him, her eyes holding a deep, haunting sorrow. "You will find those answers in time, but first, you must free yourself. Whatever chains you to the ground, whatever holds you back... until you face that, you will never understand why you cannot fly."

As the pale-haired woman stands before him, her eyes soften with a sorrowful weight, and she slowly extends her hand toward him. This time, she doesn’t hesitate. Her fingertips brush against his skin, sending a warm, fleeting sensation through him.

"I’m sorry," she whispers, her voice trembling with regret. "For how I turned you. I was lost in my own panic, my own confusion, and in that moment, I did you a disservice. I made you something… incomplete."

Xavier’s eyes widen as her words sink in. "Incomplete? What do you mean?"

She looks away for a moment, as if the weight of her actions is too much to bear.

"I wasn’t thinking straight when I changed you. I shouldn't have done it, and now, you’re caught in a world of struggle and pain. But…" She meets his gaze once more, her voice soft yet firm, "if you want to understand what you are, you must learn to move the unmovable."

Xavier stares at her, the confusion growing. "Move the unmovable? What? I don’t even know where to start."

Her fingers lightly graze his arm before she pulls away. "The first step is to stop doubting yourself. You’ve been fighting against your shadow, Xavier, resisting what’s inside you. If you keep doing that, you’ll never be whole. You have the strength to break the chains that bind you, but you must choose to face them."

As the woman’s words linger in Xavier's mind, she begins to fade away, her figure dissipating like smoke. “Remember, Xavier,” her voice echoes, growing distant, “Move the unmovable.”

And then, in a blink, Xavier is back in the real world. It hadn’t even been a second. The pain from Lucian's attack still throbs in his chest, and the shrapnel embedded in his skin continues to burn. He hears Lucian muttering to himself, dusting his hands off as if the fight is already over.

Lucian turns, seemingly done with the match. “Well, that was quick,” he says under his breath.

Xavier, still kneeling, feels the words from the pale-haired woman stirring within him. Move the unmovable. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth, the thought taking root. Slowly, he stands up, despite the pain, and calls out, "Lucian."

Lucian stops, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes widen slightly when he sees Xavier on his feet, but he quickly masks his surprise with a smug grin. "You’re still going? After that?"

Xavier doesn’t respond. Instead, with a sharp, pained motion, he reaches for the wooden shrapnel in his wound. What had once been a simple piece of wood has bloomed into a sharp, vibrant flower, its tendrils curling around his wound. With a determined grunt, Xavier yanks on one of the exposed vines and throws it to the side, blood dripping from his hand.

Lucian’s grin fades, replaced with curiosity and mild concern. "Huh… didn’t expect that."

Xavier takes a deep breath, his mind now clear. "You’re not the only one with tricks, Lucian," he says, his voice steady. "I’ve got a party trick of my own."

Xavier doesn’t flinch this time. He charges toward Lucian with all of his strength, the pale-haired woman’s words echoing in his mind as his determination takes hold.

Lucian’s expression darkens, his confidence wavering. "Oh? You’ve become more of a bore than I expected," he says dismissively, raising his hand again to summon his shrapnel projectiles

But when he attempts to lift his arm, he finds that something is wrong. His movement is stuck, restricted. He glances down and sees the impossible: his own shadow has snaked up and taken hold of his limbs, pinning him in place. His eyes widen in shock. "What the—?"

Xavier seizes the moment, closing the gap between them in an instant. With all the force he can muster, he drives his fist into Lucian’s midsection. The impact knocks the air out of him, sending him stumbling backward.

Xavier, knowing the wooden armor Lucian is hiding beneath his clothes, aims his attack precisely. He focuses his attack, shifting his aim. His next blow strikes Lucian’s right elbow with precision, shattering his elbow with a sickening crack. Lucian lets out a sharp grunt of pain, his arm going limp.

The force of the blow sends Lucian sprawling to the edge of the small arena, his body skidding across the ground. He barely manages to keep himself from falling out of bounds, his injured arm hanging uselessly by his side.

For the first time in the fight, Lucian's smug grin is gone, replaced with a mixture of pain and surprise as he struggles to regain his footing.

Lucian chuckles softly, despite the pain coursing through his arm. “Well, well… You’re even more interesting than I expected, Xavier.” He slowly rises to his feet, using his good arm to dust himself off. “But I’m not one to lose to a newbie. Not like this.”

Xavier narrows his eyes, watching as Lucian lifts his left hand and snaps his fingers. In a blink, a small pill materializes in Lucian’s palm, half white, half red. He turns it over in his fingers, inspecting it like it’s some sort of treasure.

“This,” Lucian says with a sly grin, “is something no one else has ever seen. Consider yourself lucky.” His tone is calm, but there’s a dangerous edge to it, one that puts Xavier on guard.

Xavier braces himself. “What is that?”

Lucian doesn’t answer right away. He holds the pill between his thumb and forefinger, then pops it into his mouth. “Let’s just say… it’s a personal project.”

For a moment, nothing happens. Lucian stands still, his head hanging low as if waiting for some internal shift. His hand goes to his chest, clutching it as his body tenses. His breathing becomes labored, and for a second, it looks like he’s made a grave mistake. Xavier watches cautiously, unsure whether Lucian is about to collapse or explode.

But then Lucian lifts his head.

When he meets Xavier’s gaze again, his eyes are no longer the same. One glows a deep forest green, while the other burns a vibrant crimson red.

“You’re the first to witness this,” Lucian says, his voice low but dripping with anticipation. “And I’m afraid you’ll be the last.”