Lucas didn't want to go back to the hall.
Which is why he did.
The lower auxiliary chamber was almost always empty at this hour. People avoided it because there were no observers, no ranking trackers, no ambient evaluation systems quietly recording metrics in the background.
No reward.
No audience.
Just stone walls and a grid that hummed if you asked it to.
Lucas didn't activate the grid.
He didn't need visual feedback tonight.
He rolled his shoulders once, twice, then drew his sword.
The sound of metal clearing steel scraped through the quiet in a way that felt too loud.
"Alright," he muttered.
He exhaled and let mana rise slowly.
Not the way he used to.
Not the way he'd been forcing it the past week.
Slow.
Measured.
He imagined loosening a fist instead of clenching one.
The flow came clean.
No shaking in his wrist.
No biting sensation along the channels.
Just steady pressure behind the sternum.
Lucas blinked.
That was new.
