"Riley… I'm sorry, but I need to go."
At Lucas's words, Riley lifted his gaze, eyes calm as always.
The light from the flames flickered across his face, but his expression didn't change—not even a hint of surprise.
Lucas hesitated. The usual confident, battle-hungry gleam in his eyes was gone.
In its place was something else—unease.
"I know you said to wait," Lucas continued, adjusting the strap of his sword across his back, "but… I promise I'll return before the competition ends."
Riley studied him quietly for a moment, then asked, "Did something happen?"
Lucas's hand, already resting on the hilt of his white sword, trembled slightly.
It was subtle, but Riley noticed.
"I don't know," Lucas admitted after a short pause. "But if I don't go now… something will."
There was a quiet beat between them.
The sound of wind whistled softly.
"…Alright," Riley finally said. "Take as much time as you need."
Lucas blinked.
