Duplicities and dangers

A sense of gravity snapped Lucas out of his dreams.

His hands instinctively flailed, his body bracing for impact.

However, just as suddenly it appeared, the sensation waned. Instead, he found himself standing.

"?"

He blinked, feeling his mind recuperate and recalibrate from the state of stillness. Slowly, as his vision sharpened, he lifted his eyes.

He was not in a familiar place.

"...what?" he murmured unconsciously.

A lengthy corridor stretched before him, almost five meters in width. Near-white panels, made with outstanding smoothness, covered the floor, thin lines creating perfect, matte squares as far as the eye could see. The tall walls, about four meters, were made of some rock-like material, but their exquisite craft was palpable, and despite the mundane gray color they gave a nearly oppressive presence. Manalamps littered the walls at even distances, just enough to fit jet-black doors between them. The air felt incredibly stale like there was no circulation whatsoever.

A sense of realization slowly dawned on him.

'Is this Nimue's Dreamscape...?' he pondered briefly. Stepping closer, he brushed his hand against the wood. A strange emotion within him welled up. He couldn't quite place what it was, but it tugged at his heart gently like on a string instrument. '...seems like so. I didn't use the skill, though... or did I...?'

He almost hummed, a hand making its way to his chin. Perhaps he subconsciously used the skill. If he was here already, the least he could do was explore a little. So long he didn't dare intrude into her memories, he could feel at ease about it... or so he told himself as his gait gained momentum.

Lucas shook his head, slowly making his way down the corridor. His steps echoed dully against the walls, their reverberations almost ominous. There was a strange sense of faint pressure somewhere near his heart as he continued his stroll for several long seconds.

'This style...' he pondered, looking over everything around. 'It's weird. Nimue is an elf, so I would've expected everything to reflect Inallel's architecture... but this reminds me of Etnal more. And besides, an underground corridor is a pretty strange thing to see. Ophelia's Dreamscape was our home, and mine was an empty space. But this... just where has Nimue been to?' his hand grazed a wall. 'Not to mention, this looks almost too perfect. Which only leads me to ponder, how is Dreamscape formed in the first place? What does it depend on?'

Noticing something in the distance, Lucas decided to finish his broods. Quickly approaching, he saw a subtle shift in the layout as a crossroads came into his view.

He looked into the branches, suddenly seeing dead walls only some distance away. The numerous doors of jet-black color were more sparse now, some entryways of a strangely smooth shape populating the walls at longer intervals. They had a peculiar structure he couldn't recognize at all, with thin lines of varying thickness running down their lengths. Panes of what appeared to be glass were inserted into them but they were completely opaque, only reflecting his face back when he approached to inspect one. His interest was immediately piqued by a small, metal plate on the wall, some inscriptions visible on its surface. However, try as he might, he could not make anything of the text. The black lines on a near-white plate seemed ever-shifting like a nest of lurking snakes.

'Nimue couldn't read yet when she saw this place.'

He frowned. His hand touched the door's surface. No sensations bar the material's chill answered. He could feel that it was not made with wood, but metal of some sort. Somewhere around where he'd expect a handle to be was a slit in the material, enough to slip his fingers inside, seemingly acting as a way to open.

Without waiting for anything, he reached for the opening. Strangely, he felt some kind of a protrusion, which gave in as he pushed. Suddenly, something in the mechanism clicked, and the door came ajar very slightly. As Lucas pushed, the door slid into the wall with a soft rumbling sound, a resounding click echoing as it stopped just far enough to be grabbed and closed if need be.

'...strange.' was his only thought as he eyed the structure. 'It's thick as my palm across, but it moves with but a push...'

Lucas released a soft sigh, deciding not to ponder further. Instead, he devoted his attention to the room he entered.

It was a somewhat large space, roughly six by five meters, with a ceiling about as high as a regular room would be. Unlike the barren outside, this place was furnished, albeit the style was austere at best.

On both sides of the long wall stood a total of eight beds, at uniform distances from one another, made of metal rods and nets, with small panels of metal at their legs as though informing who they belonged to. Their mattresses were thick and plush, and their covers and pillows snow white in color, unmade as though just barely attended by whoever had slept in them previously. Near the walls stood several dark dressers and containers, dozens of shelves inviting to be opened and peered inside. Streaks of paint littered the otherwise gray walls, numerous colors converging into what could only be considered rudimentary paintings of some sort, fuzzy and incomplete. The floor was littered by carpets, one by each bed.

'What is this place...' Lucas wondered, slowly walking through the room. Some kind of a pull dragged him further inside until suddenly, he turned, eyeing the penultimate bed on his right.

Its austere and plain style was the same as others. However, unlike with most things, more details were visible around this one. The covers were done in a rather tidy fashion, with scarcely a wrinkle on their surface. The plush carpet was of a nice, dark brown tone. The painting on the wall looked like layered streaks of red, orange, and yellow, intertwined with a few thick vertical, brown lines. All of the colors melted into ink-black as they reached higher.

Lucas stepped closer, inspecting the painting. Something about it called out to him, just like the bed did. He could feel a strange heat emanating as he placed his hand against the paint, pulsing in rhythm with his heart. And still, there was a sense as though there was something this painting failed to portray, like smudges so small they blended with everything around. There was something about this missing piece that felt important, but he could not place the feeling at all.

...

Soon, the young Stormrider decided to move on. The room's peculiar atmosphere constantly nagged at his mind, but the longer he spent in there, the less he felt like he understood. Therefore, he opted to not linger.

Entering the other branch, he recognized that its structure was the same as the first one's, except with more doors of the strange nature littering both sides.

The first one opened to some kind of a massive dining room, the kind that resembled the Great Hall in the Stormrider manor but underground. The floor was different here, a dark, metal polish gleaming under his feet as he took a few steps. The far more spacious place was lit up by numerous manalamps, but rather than on the walls, they were installed in the ceiling.

Innumerable tables stood in even rows, enough space for more than a hundred heads to sit and dine at once. In the far distance, a portion of the room cut into something else - some kind of a kitchen most likely.

The second one bore a strange resemblance to some form of an alchemy lab. Innumerable stations, similar to the ones he'd seen in the Academy, were littered across the place. Although the equipment barely took a discernable form, Lucas could recognize the alembics, material trays, and many other apparatus amidst the blurry lines and shapes.

...

'The more I see of this place, the less it makes sense. Just when and where did Nimue see this...?' his steps halted as he thought, coming to a stop at the final crossroad of the corridor, his only options to go either left or right.

The black doors, so frequent before, now were far rarer, with several strange pathways or simply blank walls in their places. The manalamps, however, were still uniformly spaced, exactly as before. This told Lucas one thing.

'I'm entering a deeper layer of her mind.'

He tossed a glance both ways before something caught his eye.

'What's that?'

A smidge of blue sparkled in the far distance, almost invisible yet somehow obvious.

'Is that what I think it is?'

He didn't wait, instead bolting into the corridor. Passing by other doors and manalamps, he saw the structure in the distance grow, its details slowly coming into view as it slowly outshone everything in both size and glamour. Eventually, as he stopped a few meters away, he looked it over.

Its strong construction looked almost ready to stand the test of time on its own. The surface was clearly neither wood nor metal, some other material forming intricate crystal designs.

But that wasn't all.

Heavy chains littered the entryway, thick and imposing. They circled the door, disappearing into the walls as though either were immaterial. Their rusty links had no visible locks on them. They looked like they had been in this place for a while.

Lucas's breath hitched as he stared at them for several seconds. The door's function was clear to him.

'A class... this door holds Nimue's class.' he breathed sharper. A strange feeling welled up within his guts, like a mix of pride and anxiety. 'But what's with those chains?'

He approached, his steps measured. Gently getting a hold of a chainlink, he felt its heft. It was by no means a second-rate thing despite its looks. A thought of why it was here in the first place sparked for a moment, but that was almost immediately thrown out as his hand reached for the handle. Tugging gently with it, he felt it give rather easily, the door coming ajar just a smidge.

Then, it hit him. A sensation of cold wrapped around his palm like his hand was about to flash freeze. Yet, Lucas could clearly feel it; the power, sheer and undulated. It felt like he was about to be caught by a swirling current, the wave crashing down on him and making him shiver.

He instantly snapped away from the door in surprise. Half a breath left his mouth before he recollected himself.

'That felt strange... just what class is that?' the white-haired man frowned, rubbing his hand briefly. Then, his attention returned to the chains. 'Are those the reason Nimue couldn't class...? Years being a Classless really do a number on one, huh.' he considered briefly. In a way, it made sense - being Classless her whole life could've made the maid's mind restrict her potential subconsciously. 'Wait, doesn't this mean I could help her?' a thought erupted deep within him. 'Since Dream Walker is the architect of Dreamscape, it means I can not just look at it, but also change it. This means...' his hand grasped a chain. He concentrated, trying to **** his spirit to listen. 'Come on... break!' he commanded...

But alas, the chain didn't so much as budge.

Lucas exhaled, feeling a faint sense of fatigue wash over him. It was enough to tell him that this endeavor would not be easy.

He smiled bitterly. However, his hand lifted again. He wouldn't give up so easily. Just imagining Nimue's elated face when she would gain a class was enough to make him want to keep going.

'I need a tool... come on, let's first try this...'

Lucas focused on his hand. He tried to imagine a hammer. From a sturdy shaft to a hefty head, he tried to construct the simplest of tools for several seconds.

Slowly, he felt it. The sensation of newfound weight appeared in his hand, the rugged wood pressing against his palm, the steady twitch of his fingers as they clutched around it. The strong head - the rectangular lob of steel - akin to those blacksmiths would use. Its weight as it bound with the shaft.

He exhaled, his amethyst eyes darting to look at his hand. His mouth smirked as he eyed the tool briefly. His other hand joined in, another mental command telling the power within him to form a pike of metal - a chisel for him to use.

'This was... easier than I expected.' he conceded, looking at the two tools after some seconds. 'Well, let's try this, then.'

He aimed at the chain. The chisel's head found its way to the metal surface. His hand lifted.

*CLANG!*

The sound rang as he hit the mark. The chisel shook and lost its balance, the hammer narrowly missing his hand as it ricocheted.

"Dammit!" he instinctively hissed. "Oh... phew," he relaxed, realizing he wasn't hit.

'Now that I think about it... would it even hurt? It's my astral form, after all...'

Lucas shook his head, resuming his previous activity. The ponders could be done later. For now, he had something to do.

*CLANG! CLANG!*

The sounds reverberated in the corridor, bouncing off its dull walls. Deafening as they were, they did not stop Lucas's actions.

One swing after another, he worked out a steady rhythm. Lift the hammer, aim, swing down, repeat. On and on.

The wobbly motions of the chisel soon stabilized as he managed to scratch the surface of the chain. Every next hit drove it a fraction of a millimeter further, the metal's resistance giving under the repeated ****.

His breathing turned labored. Lucas was accustomed to physical exertion - hours of swinging the sword under Deuce's eye made his body adept in going on and on. However, despite it looking like muscle labor, he felt it - it was an effort borne entirely of his mind's strength. Every swing, every hit, even the breathes in between - it all came down to how well he concentrated. If his mind felt foggy, even a little, the hammer suddenly lost its weight, and the chisel became springy rather than stiff.

"...shit," Lucas cursed, his hands dropping. He'd been hammering almost non-stop for at least two minutes by now, his ears ringing. "Barely a dent," he conceded, dropping his tools and going over the chainlink he took on. The chisel formed a small mark on its surface, but it was barely discernable. A smirk entered his face.

'But it's working. I will have to return here many times, but I will definitely break this. I should... also tell Nimue... but will she understand?'

A queasy feeling stirred in his stomach at the thought. Nimue could be understanding, but it didn't mean she would still look at him the same if she learned of his class. Especially since he pried into her mind just now, he knew it would stir some sour feelings between them.

'...can I even justify what I'm doing here?' he asked himself, looking into the distance. 'Class is definitely nice to have, but... I should first consider how to bring this up... For now, I'll just--' he turned around, only to freeze as he reached for the handle.

Pressure.

He couldn't explain it in any other way. A swell of impossible weight appeared on him, making his motions halt. His eyes were poised into the slit between the door and its frame. He couldn't tell immediately, but it was obvious after a second or so.

Something was inside.

A massive blur of a golden hue - easily larger than his entire body - was visible, gleaming faintly in the light, filling up all of the available space. Then, it constricted and darkened, giving way to blackness before returning.

And then, he understood.

It was an eye.

A cold chill ran down his spine at the realization. An eye was larger than the entire door could allow him to see... how impossibly huge was its owner?

'Close it... close...'

Lucas breathed heavier, his heart pumping blood with thunderous ****. Yet, despite that, his body didn't obey, instead frozen in instinctive terror. Whatever the creature was, its sheer scale and pressure made it impossible to react.

A rumble sounded, low and predatory, coming from the door itself. As it did so, Lucas felt the entire corridor shake. Manalamps on the walls flickered as otherworldly power oozed from within. Although the creature didn't relay any intent toward him, he could tell exactly what it wanted.

But suddenly, something shifted.

Lucas couldn't detect it at all. His gaze was locked on the thing behind the door, his ears not letting any sounds bar the rumble in, and his body tensed up. That was why, when he felt a punch connect with his abdomen, he didn't realize what was going on. He suddenly found himself looking at a wall, pain radiating from below his sternum. His body twitched, the coldness of the floor informing him of his change in position.

'What happened...?'

A door's soft click broke him out of his ponder. Snapping his eyes in the direction, his breath hitched.

Nimue's hand left the handle. She traced the chains briefly, immediately locating the tiny spot where Lucas had chiseled. Her thin brows furrowed, the emerald of her eyes gleaming with ferocity as she located him.

She stepped forward. The maid outfit on her body shuffled lightly as she pulled at the loose ends. Her hair was made in a simple ponytail, swaying lightly with every motion. The distance was about ten meters, and she was quickly cutting it.

He snapped to a sitting position, ignoring the radiating pain.

"Nimue?" he formed a question, his mind surging with bewilderment.

'But... why?'

The maid halted around three meters from him. Her expression turned to mild confusion, or perhaps shock. Her spiky ears twitched before lowering slightly. Lucas could tell; she was turning more wary by the second.

"How are you here...?" he asked, his mind scouring for any explanations. Was it because she had fallen asleep, rather than being under a trance like Ophelia? Or was it because he'd been here too long?

The black-haired elf barely responded. Her posture changed, fingers curling into fists. She squinted, her body visibly tensing up as she prepared to lunge.

"Do not wear his face."

???

Lucas flinched, unsure what the woman meant. The angry and volatile tone of her speech was easy to make out. She was furious, albeit... there was a tinge of fear underscoring her voice.

"What? Nimue... what are you talking about?"

But he didn't get an answer.

The maid's hands flexed. Blue strands of some kind extended, one per finger before she pointed at him.

'WHAT?!' Lucas flailed, unable to understand. His hand raised, lifting to try and break the blue thread that tied itself around his neck tightly. He coughed, his body instinctively reacting to being choked. 'Wait, cancel! CANCEL!' he cried in his spirit, canceling the skill...

...but nothing happened.

"!" His eyes went wide, primal fear surging. The sensation of chillness spread but was ignored. The only thing that surged in his mind was the realization that he couldn't run. "W-Wait... urgh, N-Nimue... wait...!"

The woman, however, didn't listen to his plea. The fierce anger in her eyes burned as she approached at an increasing pace. Her shoulder went back, her hand following as she took a strong swing. As she closed the distance, her knuckles connected with his chest.

*CRACK!*

The sickening crack reverberated in the corridor. Lucas's intestines felt like they were completely rearranged. Several ribs suddenly let him know of their newfound broken status. The surge of pain was drowned out by the flash of shock as his knees gave out, his body limping.

The bind around his neck loosened, but he didn't fall. Nimue's hand replaced the thread, tightly locked around his throat.

But that status didn't last long.

As their eyes met, he could tell - she had no intention of letting go.

That was confirmed as her hand suddenly squeezed.

The world went black immediately after.

-Outside the Dreamscape-

Lucas gasped as his eyes snapped open.

The ceiling that welcomed him was of a dull color, but one that he did remember. The stale air, still thick with the scent of his and Nimue's, welcomed him with its warmth.

His heart, pounding thunderously, slowly began abating its rhythm as he realized he was safe. His momentary wheezing slowed, soon reduced to semi-stable inhales and exhales.

...

'...what the hell was that...?' he pondered briefly, his head turning as he assessed his situation.

To his left, he noticed the beauty of an elf, Nimue, her bare back turned to him as she was mostly covered with a blanket. Her black hair pooled into a thick line leading between them, almost like a physical indication of a border on the small bed they shared. The stable rhythm of her breathing told him she was still asleep.

'So it did all happen.' he slowly realized, his gaze escaping elsewhere. The numerous sensations - from the soft sensations of his coitus with Nimue to the harsh feelings of his fists on Illan's face - came back to him, one after another. The feelings of her large, soft breasts against his chest were still vivid, as were the reverberations of pain from the Stone Spear to his guts.

Lucas sighed. Looking down, he saw that his hands were bandaged - the result of the confrontation miraculously left him without broken bones.

Sweat beaded on his temple. Slowly wiping it, the young Stormrider shuffled in his position, as quietly as humanly possible. Whilst he found and wore his garments one after another, his mind wandered.

'That wasn't Nimue...' the realization was almost unexpected, but it felt natural to him in retrospect. 'No, rather, not whole Nimue. It was more like a part of her... like her subconscious mind pushing me out. It's kind of like what happened with Dorothea when my Subliminal Guidance was rejected, albeit in first person...' he grimaced. The sensation of his broken ribs was visceral enough even though it was quickly becoming a fading memory. He traced a hand on his chest, feeling the smooth skin respond to the contact.

Donning his shirt, Lucas stretched a little. His body still responded heavily to the motions. A particularly annoying sensation of a strain came from his left foot, a sting of pain erupting every time he weighted on it too much. He definitely would have to spare it, at least for a short while.

His hand ruffled his hair as a silent sigh left his mouth. Now that the ordeal was done and he had a moment to ponder, he realized just how messed up the situation was.

'I will have to explain myself somehow...'

He knew it wouldn't be easy. Him, a Classless, somehow overpowering a 4th-circle Mage like Illan was wishful thinking at best. Ismeria would definitely catch on to that and the fact that he broke an order for some unknown reason.

'I can't just go and say Tessa alarmed me. Mother's not stupid enough to believe that's enough a reason. I have to think of some plausible explanation...'

With a languid motion, he summoned his status.

[Lucas Stormrider (Age: 19)

Class: Hybrid Class (Dream Walker / ???)

Level: 2

[HP: 489/489

MP: 1380/1380

WP: 24/450

-Base stats-

Strength: 24

Stamina: 22

Agility: 11

Intelligence: 97

-Special stats-

Insight: 37

Magical Resistance: 68

Physical Resistance: 29

Persistence: 20

Mental Power: 6 -> 7

??ity: 4]

[Skills: Magical Resistance (passive), Keen Senses, Pain Resistance (passive), Astral Projection, Subliminal Guidance, Dream Trance, Enter Dreamscape]

Lucas took stock of the stats for several seconds. His mind felt like a mess as he reminded himself of what they looked like just this morning.

'My Strength almost quadrupled...' he sighed. Clenching a fist, he immediately felt the difference; his grip strength had tremendously increased. 'I used to be so weak in the past, but now... it's around the level a regular person has.' he felt the bitter thought pat on his back almost pitifully at the realization. 'And that last stat... it had increased twice during that period.' he almost huffed. 'And...'

Lucas lifted his hand further. Spreading his fingers, he **** a memory forward. The electric sensation in his veins ran anew, just like when he stood against Illan. He felt a slight burning sensation stir within his abdomen. It was almost the same as the one in Ophelia's memories, but... slightly more untamed, more raw. Then, it rushed, guided by his instinctive guidance, before it converged on his hand.

Immediately thereafter, he noticed it; a small lightning arced between his fingers a few times, the sensation of electricity striking him back leaving behind a faint tingling.

'...so, I didn't imagine it. It was magic. I... I can cast magic...' he smiled. A shallow chuckle **** its way out of his mouth. 'I... fuck, I... I didn't think that'd ever happen... although...' his expression stiffened slowly as he took note of an important detail. 'Why isn't there a sigil to cast it from? Why am I casting it directly from from myself...?'

"Don't you know?"

The voice cut the still air like a hot knife. Its tone was laced with a sense of inner pride, like a parent who watched their child discover how to walk. The power underlining Adlin's speech was just as tangible, lightly pressing onto Lucas's shoulders as though supporting him.

"...you," Lucas spoke, turning sideways. His voice sept with irritation, or perhaps contempt, that instinctively swelled in his chest. This man... he was the reason for all this complication. Lucas was not happy in the slightest to hear him.

"Why the anger?" Adlin asked, though it felt almost daring. "Didn't you enjoy yourself just now?"

Lucas shuddered, but the origin of the sensation was unknown. His amethyst eyes darted toward the mirror atop Nimue's wardrobe on instinct, meeting his reflection.

However, he almost immediately noticed it; the person in the mirror, unlike him, was smiling.

"Enjoy? You... what the fuck did you do?" Lucas demanded, his breathing heavier by the second. His hands clenched. "That... you... that wasn't me... what did you do to me back then?"

Adlin chuckled, his tone almost jovial. Yet, the piercing gaze of his violet eyes was no blunter than Lucas's.

"I helped you."

"Help? You call that help?!" the young man raised his voice a little. "Did you see what Illan looked like at the end? If Mother didn't interfere... why? You... why?"

"Why? Would you rather forever cower before him? Besides, you felt it, too. You enjoyed it. That feeling of power, of finally standing up for yourself."

Lucas recoiled in his position. He wanted to revolt, to disprove the man's words, but deep in him, he could feel it; there was a small part of him that agreed. He liked finally having an edge over someone. Finally being able to stand up for himself, and for Nimue, gave him a small ego boost that made him almost proud.

However, Lucas's fist instinctively clenched.

"No... I didn't. You... you... I don't even know what you did to me, but... that wasn't me."

"Wasn't it? You'd be surprised," Adlin answered, his eyes squinting as a strange, difficult-to-place emotion passed his face, something between smug confidence and understanding that eluded Lucas's scope of thought. "It was the same with Ophelia, wasn't it?"

"!" Lucas jerked, a dreadful chill running down his spine. He recalled the pictures he had imagined when he realized the extent of his control over Ophelia. The luscious and tempting visions of what his power could do. They were his own thoughts, after all.

"I wasn't there when you thought of that, Lucas," Adlin continued, his tone almost schooling. "It was all you."

Somewhere in his mind, he felt it. Adlin's presence encroached upon his, coiling around the confines of his mind. He felt it reach out, slowly, like it was still testing the waters.

"...shut up..."

"You know it as well as I do," the man didn't listen, shrugging. "You have it in you. That root of power, and the drive to use it. Don't lie to yourself, Lucas."

The presence came closer. It prodded, still unsure, but steadily advancing. Lucas could feel his mind slowly slithering from his own grasp, like the reigns of a horse that had too many hands to hold them.

"Shut up...!" Lucas's teeth clenched together with his fists. Lightning arced above his knuckles. However, he knew it; Adlin wasn't wrong. He did enjoy what had happened, even if he didn't consciously admit it.

"You're merely keeping it from yourself."

"SHUT UP!" Lucas suddenly roared, lunging forward. His fist met the mirror with ****.

The glass broke with a crystalline jingle. Fragments fell onto the floor, some smaller pieces piercing the bandage on his hand.

Blood sept. Pain spiked. However, Lucas didn't so much as flinch. His fist recoiled, but the other was already striking in its place. His target? The smiling expression visible in the kaleidoscope of mirror shards.

He heard his name being spoken. However, he couldn't even place the tone. In his mind and in his body, the struggle continued. Adlin's presence felt stronger by the second, pressing onto his. The pain from striking the glass, the feeling of innumerable shards deep in his skin, was the only thing that kept him from giving in.

Suddenly, he felt something tug at his shoulder.

He reacted instinctively. He flinched, his hand rising and pushing the invader of his space away. Both in his mind and in his body, he struggled to be left alone.

And suddenly, he froze. No, they both did, as they saw the curtain of blackness to their side move.

Nimue recoiled from him, naked as she was. One hand immediately lifted to cover the place where his hand pushed against hers, covering a place that now excreted a bit of blood.

'[Nimue... no...!]'

Adlin's presence waned instantly, almost as if repelled by what just happened. But that didn't mean Lucas felt anyhow at ease.

His heart sank, deeper than ever before. Seeing her like this, and seeing why she was like this, made him **** on his breath. He was it in her eyes - the pain, the concern, the hesitation... the tinge of fear.

"N-Nimue..." Lucas started. His hand lifted, instinctively reaching out to him. "I-I-I...!"

He froze as he noticed her flinch. His hand was all covered in glass shards, only some of them stopped by the bandages that were too torn to fulfill their function.

"No... N-Nimue, I-I d-didn't... I'm s-sorry, I-I...!" Lucas started, feeling the reality catch up. No, it wasn't Illan who hurt Nimue. It was him. That realization made him feel dread he didn't know possible.

Instinctively, he bolted sideways, toward the door. He couldn't bear what he just did. The overwhelming dread, or perhaps hatred at himself, told him to leave, to escape, to not dare touch her again.

He didn't know how long it took. He ran through the underground corridors relentlessly. Reaching the servant's exit, he didn't bother to even glance if anyone was present, nor did he care about the weather or time of the day. His steps led him into the garden, which he immediately crossed, only stopping as he approached a huge, lone oak in the far distance.

He dropped to his knees. His fists met the ground. The mounting anguish, pain, dread, and anger surfaced as he screamed.

Whether he was venting or trying to atone, he wasn't sure, nor did he care. The only thing that mattered to him at this moment was the image of Nimue as he saw her just now - hurt, and not by any external ****, but by him.

...

...

Tears ran down his cheeks. The guilt ate at his heart. Coming to a standstill in his position, Lucas lowered his head, unable to muster any strength to even look at the small structure ahead of himself.

...

Suddenly, he felt something. Dainty hands touched him before coiling around his abdomen. A forehead pressed into his back.

"Lucas..." Nimue said his name softly, woefully.

"N-Nimue, I..." he sobbed, unable to finish his sentence. "I-I'm s-sorry..."

The elf woman rubbed her head against him. Her hold strengthened, tightened, as she held him so that he would not go away again.

"Please... t-talk to me. Lucas. W-What happened?" she pleaded, her voice as shaky as he was. "Please... j-j-just... d-don't k-keep it all h-hidden..."

Lucas didn't answer for a few long seconds. His vision slowly sharpened. The painful throbs of his heart didn't abate for one second, but the overwhelming dread and anguish slowly melted as he felt the woman's soft hands not letting him go for one second. He felt a slight wetness on his back, no doubt coming from her as she awaited his response. Her breathing was broken by light sobs not dissimilar to his.

The white-haired man slowly took a deeper breath. His frame of mind felt discordant. But, within that chaos emerged a thought. He was tired of this. He was tired of secrecy. He was tired of this whole charade. He didn't want to keep Nimue in the dark. Not her. She, of all people, deserved to know the truth. Even if it would hurt him in the process.

"...Nimue... I-I... I classed."

He felt her flinch, surprised. Her hold shifted marginally.

"T-Today...?"

"...no," he replied hesitantly. "B-But... there's something more."

She didn't ask, but he could tell the question she wanted to ask.

"Tomorrow, someone will die."

---

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