Lucas did not move.
Not immediately.
His body remained where it had fallen, his chest rising and falling slowly, unevenly, as though every breath had to be pulled from somewhere deeper than before, somewhere beyond the limits his body had already reached. To anyone watching, it looked like the end, like the aftermath of a battle that had already been decided, like a man who had nothing left to give.
But that was not the truth.
The energy he had spent… was only what he had drawn.
What he had used.
What he had allowed himself to use.
Deep within him, beyond the strain, beyond the damage, beyond even the creeping presence of the Dragon's Inferno, there was still more.
His reserves.
And for that brief moment as he lay there, staring faintly ahead, he allowed himself to breathe, to gather just enough clarity to keep going, because rushing now, rising too quickly, would only waste what little advantage he still held.
He needed a second.
