Thaddeus’ golden eyes darkened, cutting through the lingering tension with a single, pointed glare.
“I have tolerated your insolence thus far, Luca or whatever your real name is,” he said, his voice calm, measured, but carrying the weight of something undeniable beneath it. “Because it appears you saved my daughter.”
His gaze did not waver.
“But everything has a limit.”
The words fell like a stone, heavy and absolute. A warning. A line drawn in the sand.
Lucavion, however, did not flinch.
He met Thaddeus’ gaze without hesitation, his black eyes unreadable, holding steady for a long moment. The air between them remained still, as if waiting for something to break the silence.
Then—
Lucavion sighed.
His shoulders loosened, his posture shifting slightly as he lifted his uninjured hand in surrender.
“I understand that,” he admitted, his tone smoother now, not quite yielding but not as sharp as before. “But you must not expect me to stay still when someone I don’t know suddenly attacks me and breaks my arm, right?”
He tilted his head slightly, his smirk barely lingering at the edge of his lips.
“At the very least, I should have some leverage, don’t you think?”
Silence.
A heavy pause.
Then—
“…Sigh….”
Thaddeus exhaled, slowly, rubbing his temple as if physically forcing himself to maintain his patience.
He truly had no words for this young man.
Lucavion was like a charlatan, twisting the simplest arguments in his favor, never quite wrong, never quite right—always walking that insufferable line between amusement and audacity.
And what made it even worse was the fact that this ridiculous boy had somehow attained true strength.
It was absurd.
A contradiction.
Someone with this personality had no business wielding such power.
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes slightly.
He had met many warriors. Kings. Generals. Legends of their time.
But never had he met someone like this.
Lucavion’s smirk widened slightly as he tilted his head, studying the Duke with keen, knowing eyes.
“Whatever my real name is?” he echoed, amusement threading through his tone. “I see… It appears that the Duke has already done a background check on me.”
Thaddeus met his gaze without hesitation, his expression unreadable, yet there was no denial in his stance.
“With the kind of attention you drew during the expedition, there was no chance I would simply leave you alone,” he said evenly.
Lucavion hummed, not particularly surprised. Of course, a man like Thaddeus would have looked into him. Anyone who had managed to survive against the Kraken, someone who had broken through a star rank mid-battle, was bound to be investigated.
But the way the Duke phrased it, the way he didn’t outright confirm what he had found, was interesting.
‘So he’s still uncertain about me. Good.’
Before the conversation could continue, footsteps approached from behind.
“Your Grace,” the knight who had been sent out earlier spoke, bowing slightly. “Healer Lirian has arrived.”
A man stepped forward, his presence far quieter compared to the tension that had filled the deck only moments ago. He had an air of composed confidence about him, dressed in the robes of a high-ranking medic, his sleeves embroidered with the crest of the Duchy’s elite healers.
Lirian’s gaze flickered toward Lucavion, assessing him quickly before setting down his bag of supplies.
“Let’s begin,” he said briskly, already pulling out his tools. “Hold still, please.”
Lucavion gave an exaggerated sigh but obeyed, though not without muttering, “As if I could move much with a broken arm.”
Lirian paid him no mind, his hands already moving over Lucavion’s injuries. His mana, cool and steady, seeped into the wounds, knitting flesh back together, soothing over the worst of the damage.
But then—
He stilled.
A faint furrow appeared between his brows as his fingers lingered over Lucavion’s forearm, his mana pulsing slightly as if searching for something.
A pause.
Then, carefully, he spoke.
“Pardon, but may I ask something?”
Lucavion raised a brow. “Depends on the question. You may not get an answer.”
Lirian’s lips twitched faintly, but he pressed on. “Just something basic. What is your rank exactly?”
Lucavion blinked at the oddly specific question. “My rank?” He tilted his head before answering casually, “Five-star.”
Lirian exhaled softly, as if confirming something to himself. “Just as I thought.”
Aeliana, who had been watching silently up until now, frowned slightly. “Is something the matter?”
Lirian hesitated, his fingers still lightly resting over Lucavion’s arm as if trying to make sense of what he had just discovered. Then, carefully, he chose his words.
“It is nothing… It’s just…” He paused, considering. “I feel like this body has undergone more than one Body Reconstruction.”
Lucavion’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, though his expression remained neutral.
“Hmm? What makes you think so?”
Lirian’s gaze remained focused, his mana pulsing ever so slightly again as if feeling out the layers beneath the surface of Lucavion’s body.
“There are signs,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Subtle ones, but they’re there. The kind that shouldn’t exist unless a person has forcefully undergone reconstruction multiple times.”
Aeliana’s frown deepened. “That’s…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.
Because that was impossible.
Body Reconstruction was a rare and painful process, one that very few could endure with only the strength of 5-star, and only once in their lifetime. It was something only the most powerful mages or warriors dared to attempt, as it required breaking down the body entirely to rebuild it stronger.
To go through it more than once was unheard of.
And yet—
Lucavion let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if amused by the entire conversation.
“You may simply be mistaken,” he said, his tone light, almost dismissive. “After all, what you’re suggesting is unheard of, isn’t it?”
Lirian hesitated for a fraction of a second before exhaling, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah… That’s right,” he admitted with a small chuckle. “I suppose I’ve spoken too much for no reason. My apologies.”
The moment of tension dissolved as the healer continued tending to Lucavion’s wounds, his movements practiced and efficient. His mana pulsed gently, closing torn flesh and soothing damaged nerves, the golden light of his magic flickering across Lucavion’s skin.
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Still, as he worked, Lirian couldn’t help but comment.
“You should take better care of your body,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Even though it appears to be far more durable than most—almost unnaturally so—everything has its limits.”
Lucavion glanced at him, dark eyes unreadable. “Durable, huh?”
Lirian nodded. “Your body has a strong regenerative force, stronger than any ordinary five-star I’ve come across. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It’s almost like your body was… rebuilt for survival.”
A pause.
Lucavion tilted his head slightly, his smirk still lingering at the edges of his lips, though fainter now. “And what happens if I don’t take care of it?”
Lirian blinked at the unexpected question before shrugging lightly. “Well, I don’t know. I’d say… you’d probably die early?”
Lucavion’s expression didn’t change immediately.
But for a moment—just a flicker of a second—his gaze turned distant.
“…I see…”
He exhaled slowly, tilting his head back, looking up at the sky as if pondering something only he could understand.