A year passed. And then a few more months after that.
By Lucien's count, it had now been five years since he first set foot in the Big World.
Time had not been wasted.
Lootwell had risen. His people had grown. And Lucien himself had not stayed still for even a season.
Among the many things he had done in that span, one of the most useful was this:
He had formed Concord Pacts with more ancient beasts.
Only the ones worth taking.
The Behemoth and the Titan remained untouched.
Whenever Lucien looked at them through Divine Sense, their colors were still ugly. Their intent was muddy enough that even time had not cleaned it.
Lucien had given them grace.
He had not forgotten them.
But he had decided something simple.
If they still remained that way when the time finally came, then he would stop treating them as future allies and start treating them as future dungeon batteries.
That would be their best use.
The others, however, had been easier.
