He touched his stomach. Pressed fingers against flesh that should have a hole through it. Felt nothing except his own heartbeat. Strong.
'How long was I out? Minutes? Hours?'
The blood beneath him was dry. Crusty. Dark. That meant time had passed. How much was impossible to tell.
He tried to stand. His legs were weak. Shaky. He caught himself against the brick wall. Waited for strength to return.
'I need to move. Need to get out of here before that women comes back to confirm I am dead.'
Before he could exit the narrow alleyway someone stepped in front of him.
'Great. What now?'
A young man blocked his path. Early twenties. Tall. Well dressed. The clothes were expensive but worn. Quality fabric showing age. Nobility that had seen better days.
Lucid squinted. His vision was still adjusting. Everything had edges that were too sharp. Colors that were too bright.
"Hello, filthy vermin," the young man said. His voice carried practiced disdain. The tone of someone who had been taught to look down on people and never questioned whether he should.
"Huh who?" Lucid was beyond confused. Beyond dazed. His brain was still catching up to being alive.
"I suggest you shut your mouth."
"Inconceivable."
He gestured dramatically. Like performing for an audience that was not there.
"Do you know I can call the guards right now? Have you arrested? Do you have no respect for nobility?"
Lucid rolled his eyes. The movement hurt. Everything hurt. But not enough to stop him from responding.
"Oh please. Noble this, noble that. You are only up the social ladder because your late relatives had the balls to take risks while you inherited everything." He pushed off the wall. Stood unsupported. "Sounds like you are running a long lineage into the ground through sheer incompetence."
It was the young man from earlier Lucid saw.
He shot the young man a dismissive look. "How rude!"
"Just stating facts. I do not really care. Now move. I have a relic to catch."
"My name is Lord Fenwick. Second heir. Right after the passing of my brother Cassian of House Marlowe."
"Does not ring a bell."
"Now move." Lucid tried to step around him.
Fenwick moved faster. Stepped in front of Lucid again. The young man was taller. More imposing physically. He used the height advantage. Leaned down. Looked at Lucid closely.
"Your face. It looks weird. All that mist."
His expression twisted. Disgust replacing curiosity.
"You are not even human. What gives you the right to talk to me like that? You sub-human scum."
Something twisted inside Lucid. A vein became visible on his forehead. Throbbing.
'What did he just call me?'
What followed was a blur of movement.
Lucid was on the ground. On top of Fenwick. His chains had manifested without conscious thought. Golden white links wrapped around the nobleman's throat. Lucid pulled back. Tightened. Watched Fenwick's face go red.
It hurt. Using the chains hurt. Like something inside him was tearing with each link that materialized.
He pushed the thought away. Focused on the throat beneath his hands. On the gasping. On the fear in Fenwick's eyes.
"Apologize, you worm."
Fenwick flailed his arms. Struggled. His fingers clawed at the chains. Found no purchase. The links were solid. Unyielding.
Lucid was not strangling him. Not quite. Just enough pressure to threaten. To cut partial airflow. To make breathing difficult without making it impossible.
"I am sorry," Fenwick muttered. The words came out strangled. Desperate.
"Say it properly."
"I am a trash nobleman."
"Louder."
"I am trash! I am trash!"
Lucid released the chains. They dissolved back into golden light. Disappeared.
Fenwick stumbled forward. Clutched his throat. Coughed. Gasped. Tears ran down his face. Not from sadness. From oxygen deprivation and fear.
"You," he hissed. Prepared to throw a punch.
Lucid slapped him. Hard. The sound echoed across the narrow alleyway. Sharp.
"Do not even try."
Fenwick clutched his left cheek. The tears came faster now. Real crying. The breakdown of someone who had been pushed past their limit.
"You monster."
"I prefer fogged shit. But name calling comes in many forms." Lucid moved past him. Brushed past without looking back. "Now scram."
Two hands found their way onto his torn shirt. Grabbed. Held.
'Is this guy serious?'
Before he could finish the thought he looked down. Found Fenwick's face had changed. Gone was the snobby expression. The practiced disdain. What remained was dark. Serious and desperate.
"Do not go. Please."
"What?"
Fenwick held his shirt firm. Lucid looked at his features properly now. Dark hair. Eye bags. Skin riddled with pimples. The face of someone who was not keeping themselves well. Who had stopped caring about appearance because other problems were bigger.
"You crossed her. The magistrate."
"I know."
"She marked you. I saw it. In the plaza. The way she looked at you."
Lucid evaluated him now. Really evaluated. This was not just a spoiled nobleman. This was someone who understood things. Who saw things others missed.
'What is his problem? Why does he care?'
"You came back from it," Fenwick continued. His voice had dropped. Quiet and awed. "From death. I heard what happened. Celeste bragging to her associates. How she left you bleeding in an alley."
"Yeah. I know. I tend to do that. Come back."
"No." Fenwick let go. His hands loosened. Like he could finally breathe. "From the Domain. You came back from the Domain."
That name made Lucid flinch. The Domain. Everyone kept mentioning it. This stupid place that froze people or left them unaware. Where nothing made sense and everything had a price.
Lucid wanted to walk away. Keep moving. Find the relic. Complete the mission. But he could not help himself. Could not ignore the desperation in Fenwick's voice.
He was after the relic after all. Information was information.
He let him speak.
"The Domain of Mercyros is cruel and kind to none." Fenwick's voice had changed again. Reciting. Like he had memorized this. "It demands wealth. Wealth that is—"
"Wealth that is what?" Lucid asked. He was listening now. Fully.
Fenwick shook his head. Seemed to be straying from his original purpose. Gathering thoughts that were scattered.
"It is a place where the ones who are up in society can manipulate. Can trick unfortunate business owners. Honest hard working people. They pull them into the Domain and bet impossible prices against them. Stakes they cannot possibly pay. Then they take everything when those people lose."
He sighed. Looked at his hands. Like reminiscing about something painful. Personal.
Lucid was all ears by now.
It made sense. The frozen people Yannick had mentioned. The victims of failed transactions. People who thought they were making business deals and ended up as statues.
But what did not make sense was the place itself. His memories flashed back. To an interior. A book. His name written with desperate handwriting over and over again.
'That had to be something else. Had to do with the Ember Ascendant. The Congregation. A different kind of trap.'
Fenwick spoke again. Broke Lucid's internal thoughts.
"They are planning something inside there. The relic. It is being hosted by someone working closely with Magistrate Celeste. An auction. Inside the Domain. Where they control everything."
"Why do you want it?" Lucid asked. Direct. No point dancing around the question.
"It is for my family."
"I have crushing debt. That relic is worth millions. It might turn my life around. Save everything my ancestors built."
"Yeah. Such bullcrap." Lucid turned away. "You really expect me to believe that? You are a noble yourself. I am sure you have taken advantage of people. Played the same games. Now you are just losing."
"Wait. Please." Fenwick gripped Lucid's arm before he could exit the narrow alley. "Please."
"I tried. I really did. To play by their rules. To win legitimately. But they change the rules. Constantly. Make it impossible for anyone outside their circle to succeed."
He looked up. Met Lucid's eyes. His own were wet. Not crying anymore. Bur exhausted.
"You seem like the only person who can enter there freely and come out without sacrificing anything. Without losing everything you are."
Lucid thought for a moment. Considered the claim. Considered whether it was true.
"There is someone else," he said. "The Generous Scoundrel. Why do you not have him help you?"
Fenwick's expression darkened. "The Generous Scoundrel has not been seen. Not since the orphanage burned. Not since eight people died. He disappeared."
'But he just saved me. In the Domain. I saw him. Yellow hair. Golden eyes. He walked to the guillotine.'
Lucid's mind worked through the implications. The boy who sold knives called himself Valen Thorne. But everyone thought he looked like the Generous Scoundrel. And now Fenwick was saying the Generous Scoundrel had disappeared.
'Same person. Different names. Operating under aliases. Why?'
"The auction," Lucid said. "When is it?"
"Tomorrow night. They are being bold. Doing it publicly but hidden. Inside the Domain. Anyone without wealth will freeze. Anyone with wealth becomes a target."
"How do I get in?"
"You do not. You wait. You watch. When the Domain activates you will feel it. Time will stop. Then you can enter. But you need something of value. Something to bet. Otherwise you freeze with everyone else."
Lucid thought about the ring in his pocket. Worthless. Bought for seven gold coins from a scammer. But maybe not worthless in the Domain. Maybe future value counted. Maybe potential.
'Compound interest. Foresight. The boy bet nothing and won. Because nothing became something through time and calculation.'
Fenwick straightened up. Tried to recover some dignity. Some of the noble bearing he had walked in with.
"You already choked me and slapped me. I figure that earns you at least one free warning about walking into a trap."
Lucid almost smiled. Almost. "Fair enough."
He started walking. This time Fenwick did not stop him.
"Thank you," Lucid said. Not looking back. "For the warning. Try not to get yourself killed before tomorrow."
"You too," Fenwick called after him. "And if you see the Generous Scoundrel. Tell him. Tell him some people still believe in what he tried to do. Even if it failed."
Lucid raised a hand. Acknowledgment without commitment. Kept walking.
Behind him Fenwick slumped against the alley wall. Exhausted. Relieved and terrified.
Ahead the city sprawled. Blue and bright and full of auctions and domains and boys with yellow hair who traded futures for strangers.
Lucid walked through afternoon streets. His shirt was still torn. Still covered in dried blood. People gave him wide berth. Stared. Whispered.
He did not care. His mind was working. Connecting pieces. Building a picture.
Tomorrow night. Eastern pier. The Domain of Mercyros would activate. An auction would happen. The relic would be there.
And Lucid would be there too. With Arthur. With Ayame. With whatever value he could scrape together.
'I died today. Came back. Got information. Made progress.'
He touched his stomach. Felt whole skin where a sword had punched through.
'The boy in the Domain. Valen Thorne. The Generous Scoundrel. Same person. Has to be. Yellow hair. Golden eyes. Saves people and disappears. Operates under different names.'
He filed the thought away. It did not change the mission. Did not change what needed to happen tomorrow.
'Not a bad day all things considered. Tomorrow will probably be worse.'
The city agreed. Prepared. Sharpened its teeth.
Port Vexis was an excellent teacher. And Lucid was becoming an excellent student.
Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.
But he would find out tomorrow. At an auction. In a Domain. Where everything had a price and nothing was free.
He almost looked forward to it.
Almost.