The mother clapped once. Kid shook his head. Phones lifted.
Lucen lowered his hand, breath even. A mild tingle traced from palms to neck. His mana dropped to 59/112.
He glanced at the kid. "Not just a tracer trick."
The kid swallowed. Muttered to his mom: "Is he, like, an S‑Rank?"
She tilted her head, watching Lucen.
He smirked but didn't answer.
Across the floor, the S‑Rank trainer snapped his clipboard shut and walked over. He had clean features, no fluff. Lucen watched his posture tighten, respect, interest.
"Impressive," the trainer said. "That flare… precise sigil threading. That's not common."
Lucen met his gaze. "Thanks."
Trainer nodded, scanning Lucen. "Name?"
"Lucen Ivara."
"Lucen." He said it once. "The demo's on tape. I'm recommending you for a live evaluation. Guild panel acceptance is possible with that talent."
Lucen's jaw relaxed. "I'll consider it."
A stray apprentice kid whispered, "He's pro."
