Rikta climbed to his feet.
One hand bracing his side. Face flushed now. Breathing louder.
"You're not support."
Lucen blinked once.
"I never said I was."
Rikta spat once to the side. Then regripped his weapon.
"I've fought pressure casters. You're not one of them."
Lucen tilted his head.
"You sure?"
Rikta came again.
But this time, silent.
No big swing. No overcommitted charge.
Just steps. Close. Tighter stance. Low blade. Controlled lines.
Lucen's eyes sharpened.
Now he was thinking.
Now it was dangerous.
He cast [Crater Bloom].
Timing mattered here.
He let Rikta come close, within three steps, then shifted his heel back and snapped the glyph into the floor behind him.
No visual cue. The spell embedded under the surface like a trapdoor with no handle.
Lucen baited an opening. Deliberate drop in posture.
Rikta took it.
Charged the final pace and swung wide—
Lucen sidestepped.
One whisper: [Piercing Flare].
