The hush that fell over the hall wasn't total silence.
But it was close.
Not stunned. Not reverent.
Watchful.
As the five descended together—Mireilla, Toven, Elayne, Caeden, Lucavion—the atmosphere rippled. Not just from the force of their presence, but from the sheer disruption of it.
Each of them carried a different rhythm.
But it was Lucavion who changed the tempo of the room.
He didn't walk in the center. Didn't make a show of leading. And yet—he was the axis. Every step aligned to him without intention. Even Elayne, poised and honed as she was, adjusted her stride half a breath to match his.
And everyone noticed.
Even the nobles too proud to show it. Even the professors seated above. Even the crest-marked heirs standing near the dais. Their expressions didn't shift much—but their eyes did.
Lucavion's name had already spread through whispers, through wagers, through nervous laughter behind fans and half-masked smirks.
Sword Demon.
