Lucas was still staring at the towering walls, lost in thought, when a voice, laced with mockery, cut through the air behind him.
"Look who's alive."
His body stiffened. Something about that voice sent an unnatural chill down his spine. Slowly, he turned, his gaze landing on two figures standing a few feet away.
The moment he saw their faces, something inside him snapped.
A sharp pain shot through his skull as fragmented memories crashed into him. He staggered slightly, gripping his temple as the images played out in flashes—dark alleyways, sneering laughter, pain, blood… the feeling of fists striking his body again and again.
Then, it all became clear.
Damian Voss.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp, cruel features and piercing gray eyes filled with amusement. The son of a high-ranking noble, notorious for his arrogance and love of violence.
Edric Hale.
Leaner, with a sly grin that never quite reached his cold blue eyes. He had always been the one who enjoyed watching others suffer, pushing them to their limits just for fun.
Lucas's breathing grew heavier as his vision blurred with rage. His blood boiled at the sight of them, the memories of their brutality hitting him with full force.
They were the ones who had beaten Xavier into a coma.
They had tortured him for their own sick pleasure.
And now, they stood before him, acting as if it was all just some joke.
His fingers curled into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. His entire body screamed at him to attack, to make them pay right here, right now. But he couldn't.
He wasn't strong enough.
Not yet.
"I can't face them now. Not like this."
Anger burned through him like wildfire, but he forced himself to stay calm. Taking a slow breath, he locked eyes with Damian and spoke, his voice cold and emotionless.
"Stay away from me."
Damian let out a short, amused scoff. "Stay away from you, huh? Or you'll do what?"
Edric chuckled beside him, shaking his head. "You sure got bold after waking up from your little nap. What, did coming back from the dead give you some courage?"
Lucas didn't respond. He just stared at them, his expression unreadable.
Then, without another word, he turned away and began walking toward the center of the city.
Behind him, their mocking laughter followed, echoing through the streets.
"These bastards…"
Lucas clenched his fists tighter.
"They were more than just two. There were others. But… why can't I remember their faces?"
The memories were still blurry, fractured, incomplete.
But it didn't matter.
He would remember them all eventually.
And when he did—
"I swear, I'm going to make them pay."
As Lucas walked through the bustling streets of the city, he couldn't help but take in everything around him with a mixture of fascination and disbelief.
The roads made of cobblestone, uneven in some places, yet sturdy enough to handle the heavy foot traffic. Stalls lined the sides, vendors shouting to advertise their goods—fresh fruits, handwoven fabrics, strange herbs that pulsed with faint traces of Qi. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly, the sound of hammers striking metal ringing through the air as they crafted weapons and armor.
But what caught his attention the most was how reliant people were on servants.
Men and women dressed in simple robes moved swiftly through the streets, carrying goods, tending to their masters, fetching water from wells. Some followed behind nobles, their heads bowed, ready to obey at a moment's notice.
"So different from my time," Lucas thought, watching a young servant struggle to carry a basket twice her size.
Back in his old world, menial labor was nearly obsolete—robots had taken over those roles, leaving people free to focus on other pursuits. But here, power dictated everything. Those without strength were destined to serve.
He shook his head and kept moving.
The more he walked, the more he realized how massive the city was. The streets twisted and turned, leading to various districts—residential areas where stone houses stood side by side, marketplaces filled with the scent of roasted meat and exotic spices, even a training ground where young cultivators sparred under the watchful eyes of their instructors.
Then, something caught his eye.
A grand structure, standing tall among the surrounding buildings.
The Imperial Library.
Its towering pillars and intricate carvings gave it an air of importance. Unlike the smaller establishments around it, this building radiated a quiet dignity, a place meant for scholars and seekers of knowledge.
Lucas didn't hesitate. He pushed the large wooden doors open and stepped inside.
The scent of old parchment filled the air. The library was vast, shelves upon shelves stacked with ancient scrolls and books. Few people were inside, mostly elderly scholars engrossed in their studies, flipping through pages with quiet concentration.
Lucas wandered through the aisles, scanning the titles. He needed information—about this era, about cultivation, about the world he was now a part of.
His fingers brushed against the spines of several books before he picked a few that seemed promising.
"The Origins of Qi Cultivation."
"The Rise of the Great Clans."
"The Monster Calamity and the Fall of Empires."
Taking the books, he found an empty table in the corner of the library, sat cross-legged, and immediately began reading.
The first book explained the basics—how Qi cultivation was first discovered, how early cultivators harnessed the energy around them to strengthen their bodies, extend their lifespans, and achieve supernatural abilities.
But it was the third book that made him pause.
As he read through the brittle pages, his expression darkened.
Monsters.
Beasts that were once ordinary animals, transformed into terrifying creatures after being exposed to a strange, corrupting energy that leaked into the world centuries ago. These monsters grew stronger by devouring cultivators, absorbing their Qi to evolve.
They had nearly wiped out humanity.
That was why cities had such high walls.
"So that's it…" Lucas thought, leaning back in his chair.
These walls weren't just for show—they were for survival.
The era he was in wasn't just the beginning of cultivation.
It was the era when humanity had nearly fallen.
Lucas continued reading, flipping through pages with deep concentration as the library slowly emptied around him. The once lively atmosphere had grown eerily silent, with only the dim candlelight flickering against the wooden shelves. He hadn't even realized how much time had passed until he glanced toward the tall arched windows.
Outside, the sky had darkened into a deep shade of blue, and the glow of lanterns illuminated the streets. It was only then that he noticed the aching stiffness in his neck and the slight blur in his vision from staring at the text for too long.
"I got carried away," he thought, rubbing his temples.
Just as he was considering heading back, he heard soft footsteps approach from behind.
"My Lord."
He turned to see a young woman standing respectfully a few feet away, her head bowed slightly. She was dressed in a simple yet well-kept servant's robe, her long brown hair neatly tied back. Though she kept her gaze lowered, Lucas could tell she was young—probably around his age or slightly younger.
"I apologize for disturbing you, but Lord Gideon has asked for your return to the estate," she said in a gentle yet firm tone.
Lucas studied her for a moment. He wasn't surprised that his father had sent someone—after all, he had left without telling anyone where he was going. Still, he had expected a knight or one of the older attendants, not a young girl.
"You found me by asking around?" he asked, curious.
"Yes, my Lord. Some of the shopkeepers saw you enter the library, so I came here to look for you," she explained.
Lucas nodded and stood, stretching his sore limbs before carefully placing the books back on the shelf. "I won't make them worry any longer, then."
She bowed slightly. "Is there anything you need to get before we leave for the estate, my Lord?"
He glanced around, but there was nothing else he needed. "No, nothing."
She nodded in understanding and turned to lead the way, but before she could take a step, Lucas spoke again.
"What's your name?"
There was a brief pause before she answered. "Lira, my Lord."
Each time she spoke, she kept her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. Lucas found it strange at first but quickly realized it was probably out of respect—or perhaps fear. He knew noble households often had strict hierarchies, and servants were trained to be submissive.
"Are you the servant assigned to me?" he asked as they exited the library and stepped onto the lantern-lit streets.
"No, my Lord. I was only asked to fetch you," she answered softly.
Lucas thought about that for a moment before making a decision.
"From now on, you're assigned to me."
Lira froze mid-step, her posture stiffening slightly as though she hadn't expected that response. "My Lord?"
"I like you," he said plainly, though he quickly realized how strange that might have sounded. He corrected himself. "You seem competent. And you're quiet. I don't like being surrounded by people who talk too much."
There was a flicker of something in her expression—surprise, maybe even uncertainty—but she quickly lowered her head again. "As you wish, my Lord."
"When we get back to the estate, you'll prepare my bath, Lira."
"Yes, my Lord," she answered immediately, her voice unwavering.
Lucas smirked slightly to himself. He wasn't sure why, but he found her presence oddly calming. She wasn't overly eager, nor was she hesitant. She simply did as she was told, efficiently and without unnecessary chatter.
"Y
eah… I think I'll keep her around."
With that thought, he followed Lira through the quiet streets, the path back to the Alden estate stretching before them under the pale moonlight.