Lucien bolted out of the pocket universe the second the shared vision hit, boots hitting the shack floor hard enough to make the rotting wood groan.
Nyx shifted mid-step, fox form blurring into human with her tail already lashing.
Elara was right behind them, short sword half-drawn, breath catching like she'd been the one running through the vision.
The bond between the three of them pulled tight, yanking them toward the main road before anyone said a word.
Mira slammed into view around the bend, legs giving out the moment she spotted them.
She hit the dirt on her knees, patched clothes torn at the elbows, short brown hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and road dust.
Her chest heaved, lungs working like bellows that had seen better days.
"They… the merchants sent something worse," she gasped, voice raw.
"Not humans. Shadows. Twisting things. They smelled the seed on me after I left the caravan."
Nyx dropped beside her first, claws retracted but hand firm on the girl's shoulder.
Lucien crouched lower, one palm pressing flat against the dirt where the mana seed's pulse still thrummed faint underneath.
The air out here carried the sour edge of fear-sweat mixed with something metallic and wrong, like burnt wiring left in rain.
The shadows peeled out of the treeline a heartbeat later—three of them, low and stretching, made of corrupted mana that moved like oil on water.
Not solid. Not quite smoke.
They leaked hunger, the kind that made your stomach twist before your brain caught up.
One lunged at Mira's leg, tendril thinning into a claw.
Lucien didn't think. The Greed Bloodline woke up hungry.
He reached out with the Devourer's Gaze and the Linhagem did the rest.
The first shadow hit his palm and simply folded, power pouring into him raw and cold at first, then warming as the Greed multiplied it on the way down.
It tasted like spoiled mana left too long in a dark corner—bitter, thick, but it filled the empty spots anyway.
His veins buzzed. Level ticked somewhere quiet in the back of his head.
The second shadow tried to wrap around his arm; he yanked it in like pulling taffy, the corruption breaking apart and turning sweet on the way through his bloodline.
Elara swung her sword at the last one, blade catching the edge and shearing off a chunk that dissolved into black mist.
Nyx threw a quick illusion, purple-pink flames dancing fake and bright to confuse the thing before Lucien finished it.
The final shadow let out a wet pop when he absorbed it, power flooding in thicker this time, leaving a faint aftertaste like licking a battery that had rolled under the couch for months.
Mira stayed on her knees, staring up at him with those wide eyes that still carried road dirt in the corners.
Her hand found his wrist, fingers cold and trembling but gripping anyway.
"I don't want to go back to them," she said, voice small but steady enough to matter.
"They only kept me for cheap eyes and faster legs. After what I saw in the square… I'd rather stay here. Even if it means sleeping in the dirt again."
Nyx snorted, tail flicking once against Lucien's calf.
She didn't say anything out loud, but the subtle nod she gave when Mira wasn't looking carried approval mixed with that sharp fox edge—like she was already measuring how much trouble the new stray might bring and deciding it was worth the mess.
Lucien helped Mira to her feet, the girl lighter than she looked, bones close to the surface the way hungry kids get.
"You're not going back. Not tonight. Not ever if you don't want to."
They walked back to the village slow, Mira limping between Elara and Nyx while Lucien kept an eye on the treeline.
The square was still half-full of people finishing evening chores, lanterns flickering to life near doorways.
Word had already spread somehow—maybe the mana pulse from earlier, maybe just the way news travels when people stop being too scared to talk.
Lucien stopped in the center near the fountain, voice carrying without him raising it much.
"Eldoria doesn't owe anybody anymore," he said, letting the words settle.
"Not the baron. Not the count. Not whatever's left of those merchants. From now on, if you want to stay, you stay. If you want to leave, take a small seed with you. Plant it somewhere new. Grow your own thing. No taxes on the way out."
The silence stretched for half a breath.
Then the clapping started—slow at first from old Tomás near his hut, then spreading.
The blacksmith set his hammer down and joined in, rag still hanging from his belt.
A couple of women by the fountain wiped their hands on aprons and added their own quiet applause.
Even the kids stopped running long enough to stare, one little boy tugging his mother's skirt and pointing straight at Lucien like he'd just seen the sky change color.
For once the word "lord" didn't feel like a joke in his head.
It sat there heavy but warm, the kind of weight that comes when people hand you something without you having to steal it first.
The Greed purred low, satisfied but already looking ahead, while the bond with Elara and Nyx fed him their steady approval like background static he didn't mind carrying.
Mira stayed close, still catching her breath, but her shoulders had dropped half an inch.
Nyx kept one eye on her, tail occasionally brushing the girl's leg like she was testing if the new stray would bolt.
Later, as night properly settled and lanterns burned lower, they slipped back into the pocket universe.
Silver grass felt cooler against bare skin, the flat glow overhead dimmed to something closer to moonlight.
Lucien sprawled on his back, Elara curled against one side, Nyx against the other, Mira given a quiet corner with extra blankets pulled from the treasury.
The mana here pressed clean and endless, washing away the road stink still clinging to Mira's clothes.
The system blinked red in the corner of his vision, sudden and sharp.
[Tier 2 of the Greed Bloodline ready for activation. Choose the first permanent upgrade.]
He stared at the text while the girls breathed steady around him.
Options hovered faint—multipliers on absorbed power, wider law authority, deeper conquest bonds—but nothing felt urgent enough to pick right then.
The Greed could wait a minute. It always could.
From the horizon outside, visible even through the pocket shimmer if you looked hard enough, a thin line of smoke rose.
Not from the village. Wrong direction.
Too dark, carrying that faint purple-pink edge that screamed illusion fire more than real flames.
Someone had burned the merchants' caravan. And the fire looked like Nyx's work but wasn't quite hers.
Lucien felt the bond pulse once, warm and warning.
Mira stirred in her corner, murmuring something in her sleep about running faster.
Elara's hand tightened on his tunic without waking. Nyx's ears twitched, golden eyes cracking open just enough to catch the distant glow.
He didn't move yet.
Just lay there tasting the new complication on the back of his tongue—smoke that wasn't theirs, shadows that weren't the count's, and a village that had finally started clapping for him instead of hiding.
The silver grass kept stretching quiet under them, time still running fast inside while the real world outside decided to get louder.
He closed his eyes for a second, the red system text still burning behind his lids.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting.