Lucan sat at the edge of his desk, pen in hand, scribbling on a worn-out notebook. Maris stood across the room, her arms folded and her lips slightly pursed, waiting for him to finish writing. His throat was still blackened from the backlash of his magic, making speech impossible for the time being, but it didn't stop his sharp mind from racing through strategies.
He held up the notebook for Maris to see.
"The black substance that took Nyx—it's the second Evil Magician," the notebook read. "If we face both of them together, we can't win. Not yet."
Maris's expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of defiance in her eyes. She nodded, but then shook her head with a slight grin forming on her lips.
"I get what you're saying, Lucan-sama, but you're underestimating me," she said, her voice calm but confident. "My power has grown, not just a little, but by a huge margin after the battle."
