The supper at the Grand Castle ended shortly after.
Luken was in Faust Keisuke's quarters.
His hand had a cigarette stick, half burnt.
"You alright now, Faust?"
"Y-Yeah, I think I am. You are still as strong as that day against the Seraphim, Commander."
Luken could not help but feint a smile.
"That is kind of why I have survived as long as I have. Although I hate how much Ignis overstates strength, it really is the difference between life and death in our professions. By the way, I am sorry for getting carried away earlier."
"Heh. Do not even mention it. I was just far too underwhelming."
"You did manage to land a couple of solid blows at me, though. The last time we sparred, you could not even land a scratch on me, so, consider that a win."
Faust laid there, his left arm in a cast and his legs wrapped around gauze bandages enchanted with healing liquids.
