Lucen lay motionless on the bed, his eyes wrapped in layered seals and room filled with seals and stabilizing magic circles.
The air around him felt heavy—thick with restrained mana and something darker beneath it.
Zane stood beside the bed, eyes fixed on Lucen's condition. The purple-black corruption crawling across his torso pulsed faintly, like something alive beneath his corrupted purple skin.
"…This is serious," Zane said quietly.
He didn't sound surprised. Just certain.
He looked toward Seris.
"How long has he been like this?"
Seris's fingers tightened against her sleeve. There was exhaustion in her face, and something close to relief now that he was here.
"At first he could still speak," she said softly. "He was conscious. Even giving orders. But as time passed… his condition kept getting worse day by day."
Her voice lowered.
"Now he not conscious at all."
Zane nodded once, eyes still on Lucen.
"Did you consult anyone? Healers, specialists or artifact doctors?"
