The Desert of Falling Stars stretched endlessly under the fading glow of meteoric light. The sands shimmered unnaturally, remnants of residual magic from Lucien's previous confrontation with the black mana figure. Faint ripples danced across reality itself, as if the desert had been stitched together from threads of existence.
Rorio padded along the dunes, nose twitching. "Master, this place smells… different. Are we hunting something, or just wandering?"
Lucien floated lazily above him, parasol tilted against the soft glow. "We're exploring, Rorio. Sometimes wandering is enough. Sometimes… it's everything."
Rorio cocked his head. "Everything, huh? Does that include snacks?"
Lucien's lips curved into a small, wry smile. "Not yet. The desert has its own flavor. We'll see if it's worth tasting."
In the distance, a band of green rose from the golden sands—an oasis that glimmered like polished emerald. But this was no ordinary oasis. The water reflected stars that didn't exist in the sky above, and the air thrummed with soft whispers, as though the desert itself were telling secrets.
"Master… that water… it's… strange," Rorio said cautiously, ears flat. "And not in a good way."
Lucien's gaze flicked to the oasis. His eyes glimmered faintly with interest. "It's not meant to be safe, Rorio. Some places are meant to be understood, not just survived."
The black mana figure followed at a distance, threads flickering nervously as it scanned the surreal landscape. Darius moved with deliberate precision, frost forming around his boots despite the heat, eyes narrowing at every ripple in the air.
From the waters rose figures that seemed almost unreal. Their skin was translucent, like liquid glass, and their eyes held swirling galaxies. They spoke together, voices overlapping yet distinct, a sound both beautiful and disconcerting.
"You… traveler," the tallest figure said. "Why do you disturb the Oasis of Whispers?"
Lucien floated closer, hands clasped behind his back. "Mostly curious. I like to see what a place will do when someone… nudges it. And you? You've been waiting for visitors, haven't you?"
The Oracles tilted their heads, water rippling around their feet. "We guard what is forgotten, watch threads that bind worlds. And you… you are something the threads themselves cannot predict."
Rorio sighed. "I don't like being unpredictable. Mostly stressful. Also… still no snacks."
Lucien ignored him, eyes on the Oracles. "You speak well… but your words lack humor. I find that a shame. The world should laugh more, even if it's just at its own expense."
The black mana figure hissed, shadows writhing around it. "Why are you here again? Why do you always lead the threads so recklessly?"
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "I don't lead. I observe, guide, and occasionally… interfere. Mostly, I like seeing what happens when threads aren't confined." He flicked his parasol, golden threads lashing out to redirect a stray strand of dark energy.
Darius's voice was low and sharp. "You're tempting danger. Even here, the desert bends around you unnaturally. Those Oracles—are they real, or just another trick?"
Lucien's smile was small but deliberate. "Mostly real. A little… dramatic. Darius, sometimes the answer doesn't matter. The effect is what counts."
The oasis began to shimmer. Threads of starlight rose from the water, intertwining with Lucien's golden strands and the dark figure's black mana. The air vibrated, the desert seeming to breathe along with the magic.
Rorio's tail twitched nervously. "Master, this feels wrong. Mostly… chaotic. And I think the sand wants to eat us."
Lucien laughed softly. "Mostly safe, Rorio. Mostly. If you stay calm, the desert won't bite. But you'll want to watch closely—it has a lot to teach."
The black figure surged forward, threads whipping violently toward the oasis. Lucien moved without hesitation, threads of gold and silver dancing around him like living ribbons. He intercepted the attacks, redirecting the energy into the ground, shaping the sand and wind to protect the Oracles.
Darius grit his teeth. "You fight only when you choose. But this is dangerous, even for you."
Lucien's expression hardened slightly. "I fight because sometimes observing isn't enough. Mostly… to remind others that threads aren't just to be watched—they're to be respected." He thrust his parasol forward. A golden lattice of threads spread, intercepting the black mana figure's final surge, twisting the energy harmlessly into the oasis waters.
The water quivered violently, then stilled. Stars reflected perfectly, as if reality itself had exhaled. The black mana figure floated, subdued, its threads tangled but not destroyed. Darius lowered his spear, frost dissipating as the environment calmed under Lucien's control.
Lucien floated down to the edge of the oasis, Rorio padding up beside him. "Mostly successful. Slightly tiring. But the lesson is clear: threads are not just power—they are dialogue. And if you listen… sometimes even the desert speaks."
The Oracles inclined their heads. "Traveler… your threads are unique. Complex, and necessary. Continue, and the stars themselves will guide your path."
Lucien's golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Mostly… acknowledged. Slightly intrigued. Excellent… adventure ratio. Rorio, the world is vast. Endless. And sometimes dangerous. Mostly edible in spirit, if not literally."
Rorio yawned, tail flicking lazily. "Mostly ready. Slightly nervous. Excellent snack ratio. Do we keep moving, or nap in the starlight?"
Lucien sipped his tea, threads swirling around him. "We move. Mostly forward. Slightly cautious. Excellent choice ratio. Adventures aren't polite—they wait for no one. And I intend to meet them head-on."
Above the desert, meteors continued to streak, threads twisting across the sky, converging and diverging. Somewhere beyond, new worlds waited—threads vibrating with anticipation. Lucien, the absolute being, master of existence, and occasional fighter, smiled faintly. The desert whispered its secrets, and they were listening.