He moved again, angled toward the window, and sketched the sigil core for [Shockweave Bolt]. A line. A spike. A snap curve.
Mana traced dead-center on target.
Lucen didn't fire.
Just nodded.
Focus sharp. Response tight. Every part of him synced with the system like it had stopped waiting for his permission.
He drew [Frost Spire] in a low arc next.
Vertical trajectory. No ice trail needed, just the base line to test flow. It spun perfectly on the return stroke.
He didn't smile.
He just blinked, filed the feeling away, and raised his other hand.
[Crater Bloom]. Heavy burst. He only drafted the glyph, didn't finish it.
Mana pressure still jumped.
'That's six.'
He hesitated. One more.
[Cataclysm Vector].
He didn't trace it all the way. Just let the core line hover, pulsing faint in the air like a held breath.
His heart ticked slower.
Not fatigue. Sync.
The system wasn't a tool anymore. It was stitched into him.
Lucen stepped back.
