The runner wanted his answer, but Slade insisted it was complicated.

  Instead of explaining it outright, Slade gestured toward the door of the club.

  “Come on,” he said. “You should see the city first.”

  Brad frowned slightly but followed him outside.

  Slade had already given him a brief tour earlier—pointing out the hospital, the gates, the markets, and the main districts of the Violet City. That had been more about orientation.

  This time, Slade moved slower.

  “Earlier was just showing you where things are,” he said as they stepped into the street. “This time we’ll actually look around.”

  Brad glanced at him. “What’s the difference?”

  Slade smirked. “You’ll see.”

  They walked into the flow of the city. “What’s your name, by the way?” Slade asked.

  The runner looked over. “Brad. Brad Farmsworth.”

  Slade nodded once. “Well, Brad. It’s about lunchtime. What do you say we grab a bite?”

  Brad shrugged. Food sounded good.

  He hadn’t eaten since before the execution square, and the thought of it still twisted his stomach.

  They stopped at a food stand tucked between two stone buildings. A steady line of people moved through it, chatting casually with the vendor as if they had nowhere urgent to be.

  Slade placed a coin on the counter.

  Brad leaned forward, squinting at the sign hanging from the stand.

  His eyes widened. “This is the price?”

  Slade glanced back. “Yeah? Expensive?”

  Brad shook his head slowly.

  “The opposite,” he said. “This is less than half the price of food in Krail.”

  Slade laughed under his breath.

  “Well of course. There’s no reason to press civilians that hard with taxes or slavery.”

  Brad stared at him, trying to tell if he was joking.

  He wasn’t.

  The vendor handed them their food. Brad took a bite before they’d even walked away.

  His eyes widened again. “What the fuck—” he blurted mid-bite. “This tastes amazing.”

  The vendor overheard and chuckled. “Thank you, my friend. I greatly appreciate it.”

  Slade pointed toward him with a grin. “That’s my guy Chuck. Man knows how to make a sandwich.”

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  Brad devoured the rest in a few quick bites. The meat was hot, juices soaking into the bread, spices lingering on his tongue long after each swallow.

  It was the best thing he’d eaten in months.

  When they finished, they continued down the street.

  The city moved around them with an ease Brad had never seen before. People laughed openly.

  Merchants talked with customers instead of shouting prices.

  No guards barked orders.

  No soldiers shoved civilians out of the way. In fact, soldiers and civilians actually appeared to have a good time with one another, in conversation, dining, drinking, and more.

  No one looked afraid.

  Eventually they reached a wide body of water. The surface glittered under the afternoon sun.

  Children were jumping from the stone edge into the water, splashing and shouting while others swam lazily through the deeper sections.

  Brad frowned and pointed. “Hey… shouldn’t you get them out of your water supply?”

  Slade smiled. “No, of course not. They’re just playing.”

  Brad’s arm slowly dropped to his side. “But… they’re contaminating your water.”

  Slade gestured to a nearby table and they sat.“Look, Brad. The water they’re playing in is just one of several bodies of water in the city. And even if we needed this one, boss purifies everything anyway.”

  Brad blinked. “What?”

  “Fire magic,” Slade said casually. “Purifies water instantly. Makes it drinkable no matter what.”

  Brad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  Everything was wrong.

  Everything he’d been taught about how a city had to function was wrong.

  And yet…

  It worked.

  People were happy. Calm. Relaxed.

  Brad pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose. “But magic is still regulated here, right?”

  Slade laughed. “Dude, you’re gonna make my head hurt from shaking it so much.”

  Brad looked up.

  “No,” Slade continued. “Magic isn’t regulated.”

  Brad blinked again.

  “In fact,” Slade added, “Rona runs the main magic academy here. But if families want to homeschool their kids instead, that’s fine too.”

  Brad stared at the ground.

  Nothing was adding up.

  Nothing.

  He stood up abruptly. “If I wanted to conjure a spell right now… I could?”

  Slade stood too, meeting his gaze. “Well,” he said calmly, “is your spell going to alter the cityscape?”

  Brad shook his head.

  Slade continued. “Is it going to harm anyone? Man, woman, child… even a soldier?”

  Brad shook his head again.

  Slade tucked his hands behind his head. “Then you’re free to cast whatever you want.”

  Brad hesitated.

  Relief washed through him… followed immediately by fear.

  He began gathering mana in his hands.

  At first it came slowly, uncertain. Then the incantation rolled off his tongue more confidently.

  Energy gathered between his palms, forming a small orb of pure Lucen magic.

  He looked up at Slade.

  Slade simply watched.

  Calm.

  Relaxed.

  Brad swallowed and poured more mana into the spell.

  The orb brightened until it glowed like a small sun between his hands. Then he thrust his arms forward, sending it soaring into the sky.

  The Lucen magic exploded above the rooftops in a brilliant flash of light.

  A few people nearby looked up.

  Some clapped.

  Slade clapped too. “Well done,” he said with a smile. “Quite the spectacle.”

  Brad stood there, heart pounding. “So… that’s it?”

  Slade shrugged. “Yep.”

  No alarms.

  No soldiers.

  No punishments.

  They continued walking.

  Slade pointed things out along the way—living quarters, schools, marketplaces.

  Each explanation felt impossible.

  Each thing Brad tested for himself.

  Food cheaper.

  Housing better.

  Taxes minimal.

  People calmer.

  Kinder.

  Brad couldn’t understand how a city like this could exist.

  And yet it did.

  They turned down another street when Brad noticed something unusual.

  The sound of voices.

  Not loud.

  But gathering.

  People ahead were beginning to slow their pace. Conversations hushed. A few individuals stepped aside as if making space for something unseen.

  Brad frowned. “What’s going on?”

  Slade didn’t answer immediately.

  He stopped walking.

  Brad looked at him.

  Slade’s expression had shifted—still calm, but more attentive now.

  The crowd ahead continued to part, forming a quiet corridor through the center of the street.

  Brad felt a strange tension settle in the air.

  Not fear.

  Something else.

  Respect.

  Then Slade spoke quietly. “It’d be wise not to blink here.”

  And through the opening in the crowd… a cloaked figure stepped into view.