Lucien drifted over Zephyros, parasol gliding effortlessly through the morning sky, Rorio sprawled lazily beside him. Below, the city was alive with panic, awe, and very mild property damage. Street vendors had already started muttering about "that flying disaster again," while a small group of mages attempted to corral the black mana figure moving through the market square.
"Rorio," Lucien murmured, swirling his tea, "observe. Chaos spreads naturally, like butter on bread. And just as satisfying."
Rorio tilted his head, tongue lolling. "Mostly satisfying. Slightly terrifying. Excellent snack ratio. Does that mean we eat now… or wait until the buildings are evacuated?"
"Timing, dear friend, is everything," Lucien said, letting his parasol dip and rise in perfect arcs. "Observe the tension, the panic, the simmering fear—and the potential for pastries."
Below, the black mana figure moved closer, threads coiling and uncoiling like living shadows. Citizens ducked, street carts toppled, and an enchanted dog, startled, unleashed a tiny fireball that singed the edge of a fruit stall.
"Unnatural," Darius muttered from the city's edge, frost spiraling off him in tight, crystalline strands. "Lucien… your presence encourages instability. That figure… it will not leave willingly."
Lucien laughed softly, golden eyes gleaming. "Darius, my dear ice sculpture, instability is only a matter of perspective. To me, it's a teaching moment… and to them, a snack opportunity."
The black mana figure paused beneath a floating billboard, twisting threads around its form, eyes glinting like void-lit obsidian.
"I have come for the one marked by destiny," it said, voice calm, deliberate, and frighteningly precise. "And for the chaos that sustains this… absurd city."
Lucien yawned, tilting the parasol like a conductor's baton. "Mostly polite. Slightly threatening. Excellent dramatic timing."
Rorio barked. "Mostly threatening. Slightly delicious. Excellent snack ratio. Are we fighting or eating first?"
Lucien swirled his tea and smirked. "Observation first, snacks… eventually. Engagement is optional. Always optional."
Below, Aria and Ryn appeared, gliding gracefully through the square, dodging rogue carts and stray magical explosions.
"Lucien!" Aria shouted. "You can't just float through every city spreading chaos!"
Lucien's gaze flicked toward her, lips curling into a lazy smile. "Chaos… spreads itself. I merely narrate."
Ryn's silver eyes narrowed. "That narration includes people potentially dying. Or at least getting very singed pastries."
Lucien shrugged. "Mostly dramatic. Slightly culinary. Excellent world-building. Now, look over there."
His finger pointed toward a small plaza, where an airship had tangled with a floating fruit cart. Instead of panicking, the two pilots were negotiating politely, while the fruit spun through the air like an improvised fireworks display. Lucien's golden eyes sparkled.
"Mostly impressive. Slightly ridiculous. Excellent snack ratio," Rorio said, tail wagging furiously.
Darius stepped closer, frost forming a defensive perimeter around Lucien. "You are treating this like a… like a festival, while the threads converge and that figure approaches. The consequences—"
"Consequences," Lucien interrupted softly, "are irrelevant. Only performance matters. Only observation matters. Only… snacks matter."
The black mana figure advanced, energy rippling like ink on water, drawing the attention of every mage, citizen, and flying animal in Zephyros. Its threads pulsed toward Lucien, but the absolute being tilted his parasol, floating lazily out of reach.
"Mostly interesting," Lucien murmured. "Slightly annoying. Excellent introduction."
Rorio barked. "Mostly tense. Slightly delicious. Excellent snack ratio. We still survive?"
"Survival, dear Rorio," Lucien said with a faint chuckle, "is never the goal. Engagement, chaos, curiosity—and perhaps… pastries—those are the goals."
Above the city, threads of gold, silver, crimson, black, and a faint violet shimmer converged. Somewhere beyond, other worlds waited—mountains that breathed, seas that whispered, and deserts where stars fell like rain. Lucien's gaze flicked toward the horizon.
"Ah… possibilities," he whispered. "Rorio, our next stop will require careful observation, mild mischief, and the correct snack ratio. Worlds await, destinies twist, and I… will enjoy every step."
Rorio yawned, curling beside him. "Mostly ambitious. Slightly terrifying. Excellent snack ratio. Are we really going?"
Lucien smirked, tea glimmering in the early sun. "Always. And remember… anything that exists, exists by my consent. Everything else is… optional."
From the plaza below, the black mana figure surged forward, threads reaching. Darius tightened his frost shields. Aria's flames danced dangerously. And Lucien… floated higher, a smile playing across his lips, ready to step into the next world with casual inevitability.
The game had only begun.