Lucian's reflection shifted in the water beside the pier.
His hair, once red streaked with black, was now black streaked with red. His eyes, once crimson, had deepened into a dark, deceptive brown.
A subtle, deliberate transformation—his first step toward infiltrating human society. Such disguise was made possible by the innate demonic ability to reshape one's form, if only partially.
The air was thick with salt and tar, gulls screaming overhead. Despite the Lawless Continent's supposed isolation, the port thrived with activity—sailors shouting orders, merchants haggling, and crates thudding onto worn planks. It was too well-organized for a land abandoned by civilization.
A contradiction Lucian quietly noted.
Lucian's eyes swept over the crowd until they settled on a man who didn't belong.
Middle-aged, exhausted eyes. A face carved by sleepless years. His clothes were clean but wrinkled, his movements slow, jittery, as though weighed down by invisible chains.
Lucian stepped closer.
"Excuse me, sir… might you happen to work here?"
The man flinched. "What?" His voice carried irritation more than fear. "Look, kid, I'm just running an errand. Don't drag me into this lawless pit—place is crawling with maniacs."
To outsiders, this land was a human dumping ground—a graveyard for the unwanted. Criminals, outcasts, and the forgotten were cast here to rot.
Lucian's curiosity sharpened. Interesting. *A man from the outside world… what could drive him to come here of all places?*
"Oh? So you do not dwell within the Lawless Continent… and what, may I ask, brings you on this errand?"
The man scoffed. "Not that it's any of your business, kid, but I'll tell you anyway. I'm here to grab some merchandise—stuff they don't allow back home. That's all you need to know."
Lucian's interest faded as swiftly as it had come. The man was exactly what he appeared—a weak-willed addict chasing forbidden pleasure.
*Merchandise forbidden in his homeland? Hmph… a slave to vice, then.*
He offered a polite nod. "No need for concern—I've no intention of prying into your affairs. My only interest lies in finding a way to one of the Great Kingdoms."
The man eyed him curiously, then shrugged. "Alright, kid. Looks like you want out of this dump. If you're going to any Great Kingdom, try the Great Kingdom of Drakia. One of those ships over there is heading that way—don't miss it. But you'll need to pay."
Lucian followed his gesture. Near the docks, two men were unloading something—or rather, someone—from a ship. One carried an unconscious body slung over his shoulder, a burlap sack covering the head. No one intervened. No one even stared. Such scenes were commonplace here.
Man A dropped the body to the ground with a grunt.
"Finally, we've arrived."
"Hey!" Man B snapped. "Are you out of your mind? We only get paid if he's alive—did you forget that?"
"Relax." Man A kicked the limp form. "He's fine. Can't you see? Now go fetch a horse and carriage."
Man B muttered curses as he walked off.
Man A knelt, yanking the sack free. A man in his forties, black-haired, well-groomed despite his unconsciousness. His face bore no bruises—clearly not taken by force, but by trickery.
"You lustful fool. All it took was a pretty woman and a little poison to snatch you. Easiest million I'll ever make."
Lucian watched silently. The man beside him, the same jittery errand-runner, squinted hard, disbelief in his eyes.
"Am I seeing things, or is that… Darius Vaelmont? Maybe I'm crazy."
Lucian's expression softened—a flicker of intrigue gliding across his composed features.
"And who is this Darius Vaelmont of whom you speak?"
"He's a wealthy merchant from Drakia. Big name. Built an empire on luxury goods—clothes, jewelry, perfume, you name it. Even royals show off his brand. But that can't be him."
Lucian disagreed silently. His intuition told him otherwise. If that truly was Darius Vaelmont, then fate had just handed him a rare opportunity.
"You have my gratitude. You've proven to be quite helpful." He placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly.
"Yeah, sure, kid. No need to be so formal."
Lucian walked away, while the man muttered to himself, "Hah, what a strange kid."
Man A was loading the unconscious captive into a carriage when Lucian passed behind him, deliberately bumping his shoulder.
"What the hell?! Hey, kid—are you trying to die or something?!"
Man B leaned forward on the coachman's seat to see what was happening. "Dammit, stop messing around and get in already! I want to move!"
"That kid just bumped into me… I can't let it go."
"Come on, it's only a kid. Let it go—get in the damn carriage," Man B said, turning back around.
Lucian's tone remained calm. "My apologies… forgive my clumsiness. It was never my intention to cause any trouble."
He extended his hand for a handshake.
Man A hesitated, glared, then sighed. "Whatever."
The moment their palms met, a shadow flickered behind Lucian's eyes—dark, predatory, cruel.
The man's body stiffened, skin paling to obsidian black as petrification crept up his arm. Within a second, he was frozen solid. A grotesque statue of terror.
Lucian gave the statue a gentle push. It shattered into brittle fragments upon the dock.
He stepped over the pieces and peered into the carriage. The unconscious man lay beside a sack of cash.
"Excellent. It seems my financial predicament has been resolved."
The coachman, Man B, turned and called out, "What the hell is taking so lo—"
A black rod shot through the air and pierced his skull. He slumped forward without a sound.
The harbor briefly fell silent. A few onlookers stared, then turned away, resuming their business as if nothing had happened. Such was life here.
But one large, broad man did not look away.
He stomped toward Lucian, voice booming. "Hey! Fighting isn't allowed here."
Lucian turned, mildly amused. "What manner of rule is that? Is this not supposed to be the Lawless Continent?"
"Yes. But this is private property, and I am acting as its security. You are under arrest and will be sold into slavery."
*He really thinks he can take you? After witnessing that clash?* Malphas' voice echoed in his mind.
*Your flattery is noted, my friend. However, this particular problem does not require a solution forged in violence.*
Lucian inclined his head respectfully. "My apologies, sir. I am new to this place and unaware of its rules. I meant no trouble."
He reached into the carriage, drew a handful of cash from the sack and held it out. "Would this suffice to cover my bail?"
After a brief pause, the guard snatched the money and walked away without a word.
Lucian smiled faintly. *You see, Malphas?*
***
Hours later, the ship drifted across calm ocean waters, moonlight gliding over the deck. Ten hours had passed since departure.
The once-unconscious man now stirred awake, lying on a velvet sofa opposite Lucian.
Lucian sat calmly, a faint, welcoming smile lighting his face like dawn breaking through fog. "Ah, you're finally awake. Excellent—this is most welcome news."
The man blinked, dazed, confusion clouding his features.
"If you are hungry," Lucian continued gently, "I had some food prepared. Nothing extraordinary, but it should suffice."
He gestured to the table between them. A simple plate of rice and soup.
The man hesitated, then ate—slowly, cautiously, like someone reacquainting himself with the act. Every motion carried the tremor of a man who had suffered too much.
When the plate was empty, he exhaled shakily. "So where are the original two? And why are we still on a ship? They told me I'd wake up in hell."
Lucian tilted his head. "You presume I'm one of your captors? Hardly. In fact, I am your savior. The two you speak of… are dead by my hand."
The man stared, disbelief and hope warring in his eyes. "What? Are—are you serious?!"
"Very serious."
"And this ship—are we still going to the Lawless Continent?"
"No. We departed hours ago. This vessel is bound for the Great Kingdom of Drakia."
Relief hit the man like a wave. He laughed breathlessly, tears pricking his eyes. "I—I never thought I'd get another chance. I'd already accepted I was done for. And now—great news on top of great news."
He tried to stand, intending to shake Lucian's hand—but pain crashed through him. His muscles locked, forcing him back down.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch!"
Lucian's brow furrowed—just enough to convey concern. His voice softened.
"Easy now. Don't push yourself. Your body has already endured more than enough."
The man caught his breath, smiling weakly. "I just wanted to thank you. How could I ever repay such a debt?"
He studied Lucian more closely, curiosity piercing through his exhaustion.
"If I may… how old are you? You look so young. How did you end up in the Lawless Continent? And how in the world did you manage to rescue me?"
Lucian smirked faintly. "Hah, hah… no need to worry. I can answer all your questions. But first—allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zion. When I was five, my family sold me into slavery. That is how I came to the Lawless Continent. Fortunately, my master was… generous enough to promise freedom after a set number of years. Now, at seventeen, that promise has been fulfilled."
"Sold into slavery…" the man murmured, sympathy softening his expression. "I suppose you were lucky, in a sense. But how did you rescue me?"
"Our meeting was pure chance. I stumbled upon your captors and acted on instinct. My years serving as my master's assassin left me with… sufficient skill to deal with such men."
The man shook his head slowly, astonished. "An assassin, yet you still have compassion. I won't pry further."
He drew a deep breath. "It's my turn to introduce myself. My name is… Darius Vaelmont."
Lucian's eyes flickered—no surprise, no visible reaction—but inwardly, a silent triumph. *Darius Vaelmont… so my intuition was correct. Perfect.*
*So that pathetic man was even more pathetic than we thought,* Malphas' voice muttered. *Didn't even trust his own eyes.*
Darius leaned forward slightly. "Zion—now that you're free, what do you plan to do once you return to normal society?"
"I have none," Lucian replied smoothly. "I planned to decide once I arrived."
"Then, to repay my debt, I have a proposal. With your combat skills and apparent sense of justice, I suggest you take up the mantle of a hero. I'll adopt you, enroll you in the Imperial Academy of Auramancy. They forge the mightiest Auramancers in all the Great Kingdoms. You'll have every resource to reach your potential."
Lucian did not hesitate. An adopted son of a man whose name carried influence among nobles and kings alike—that was not a burden. It was opportunity incarnate.
"Sounds rather prestigious… and costly. If it isn't too much of a burden to you, then I gladly accept."
"Then it's settled." Darius grinned broadly. "Welcome to the family, Zion Vaelmont."
Lucian leaned back as the ship sailed through the night, the waves whispering beneath them.
A new name.
A new home.
A new mask.
Darius's voice filled the cabin, bright with relief and gratitude.
Lucian listened—and smiled faintly. To him, it was all just noise.