SSS Rank: Spellcraft Sovereign-Chapter 139: Uninvited Guest

Lucen paused on the top of the stairwell, keys out but frozen in mid-air. The door to his apartment was cracked a foot open.

Half a front step inside, soft lighting cast warm angles across the floorboards, and there, standing by the kitchenette, was a woman he’d never seen before.

Her posture was easy, confident. Not threatening. But she was entirely out of place in his off-market, too-small, lived-in space.

She wore a sleek, dark blazer, hair pulled back in a precise bun, and her hand curled around a glass, something clear, maybe water or that purified mana drink.

Code-blue pulse lines traced across her sleeve; unmistakably guild-grade aura.

Lucen’s fingers traced the brass key in his pocket. He’d never left his door unlocked.

His voice came out flat. "You’re gonna invite me in or are you just camping here?"

The woman turned. Glass in one hand, another hovering by the sleeve. Her eyes flicked to his arms, thick but not too thick, then up. "Good evening, Lucen Ivara," she said, pitch steady. "Mind if I come out?"

Lucen stared at her like she was an orb floating midair. "My name’s on the lease. I live here. You mind telling me what you’re doing in my couch cushion territory?"

She stepped out, quiet footsteps, one inch at a time. She didn’t move like she was guessing space. She moved as if she owned every square centimeter, mentally mapped to the last dust mote.

"I’m here on guild business," she said. "You’ve recently drawn attention."

Lucen scoffed. "You don’t say." He locked the door, dropped the keys in his pocket. He lifted a shoulder like shrugging off alarm. "What kind of attention? The kind where I can keep living here, or the kind where I’m muting electric water coolers by dawn?"

Her glass clinked once as she set it on his coffee table, coffee table that deserved better. "The kind where the heads want to talk."

"’The heads want to talk.’ Classic." Lucen walked into his living room and dropped onto the couch, keeping his distance. His coat dropped next to him. "Do I need pants for this?"

"I’ll wait outside the door if you’re more comfortable," she replied.

Lucen kept his gaze on her. "Let’s skip. You can stand. I’ll keep the pants."

She nodded. She didn’t sit. She didn’t cross her legs. Just stood there like she was keeping a point in space. "I’m Gabrielne ’Gabe’ Arden, SS-Rank Guild Leader. My team noticed a certain clearing you participated in."

Lucen blinked. "You’re here about the dungeon? Thought that was Varik’s thing. Not me."

She tipped her head. "Varik cleared it. We’re aware. But leveling system indicates someone helped."

He raised an eyebrow. "Want me to pop-away-into-thin-air? Because I can’t."

Her voice remained calm. "No illusions needed. Everyone involved logs when they enter the core. But you weren’t registered. Yet you were there."

He folded across the couch. "We don’t do registrations. We do breathing and surviving."

Her arms crossed for the first time. "The clearance was impressive. And you were present." She lifted a finger, lightly, pointing. "You have unusual mana traces. I’ve never seen anything quite like it in an SS-rank or below."

Lucen smirked. "’Unusual mana traces.’ Gotcha. So you’re after the party trick? Newsflash: I’m not on replay. I just punch stuff until it shuts up."

Gabe paused. "Word is... someone dubbed you ’Ghostweave.’"

Lucen tensed. "Someone said that out loud?"

"Multiple sources." She didn’t smirk. Not even a hint. "It stuck."

Lucen laughed. Low and humorless. "Great. Fantastic self-branding. I always wanted a cosplay name."

She didn’t laugh. She folded her arms tighter. "We want you to know we’re watching. Guild sometimes recruits on the side. I’m here to offer discretion."

He looked at his wall with its magazine poster of a gaming mage nothing guild style. "So... you want me to sign guild paperwork? Take classes? Fly to your summer retreat?"

She tilted her head. "If you’d like mentorship and resources, that comes with the package. But I’m here more because... you have potential. And you’re reckless enough people die trying to bait you. That reflects on anyone associated."

Lucen rubbed his jaw. "Guess I’m bad for PR."

"Great for combat results," she snapped, softening after a moment. "You almost killed Rikta. That got coverage."

He blinked, surprised. "So the A-rank brawler made headlines too."

"Enough that the board noticed."

Lucen sat up straighter. "So... you’re impressed."

"I’m interested," she corrected. "Interested in options."

Lucen chuckled. "Want to recruit me, threaten me, or...?"

Her gaze warmed fractionally. "All of that, eventually. But tonight, I just want a conversation."

He stretched, relieved. "You know how to party."

Gabe didn’t respond right away. Instead, she walked over to his kitchenette, grabbed another drink, took a small sip. The tap sound echoed in the quiet.

Lucen watched. ’That’s her fridge you’re rummaging, by the way,’ he thought, but didn’t say.

Finally she turned back. "Tell me why you want to do this life on your terms."

He studied her. Weighed conviction in her posture. "Because I’m not a guild weapon. I don’t like assembly lines. I like cash, survival, fun . Not fights that go viral, contracts that go to politics."

She nodded slowly. "That... makes sense."

He didn’t think she meant it. He didn’t think she believed him. But she said: "Look. I’m not controlling. I want options on the table. We can remain respectful. Guild resources without bureaucracy."

Lucen rubbed his forehead. "Okay. That’s a better invitation than tonight’s surprise housecall."

Gabe arched one brow. "I was told this is unofficial."

"So if I slam the door?"

"I’ll knock again." She lifted her glass. "To unofficial conversations."

He didn’t toast her. Just exhaled and said, "Alright. I appreciate you not threatening me." He looked around the cramped space of his apartment.

"But tomorrow I’ve got rasp fights, kid on camera fans, and maybe a pile of armor that still hinges at my shin after we beat that dungeon."

She glanced. "Adjusting your life schedule is part of it."

Lucen shook his head. "Yeah, you’re not recruiting me. More like slowly erasing my playlist."

Gabe’s eyelids twitched. "Playlists can come back."

He snorted. "We’ll see."