They camped high above the plains, where crisp air sharpened the senses. Kael instructed Alyra on reading distant movements, while Lyrus stood a short distance away, hands behind his back. He had learned to appear unhurried, even serene, as if colossal strength were a mere afterthought.
When Alyra's gaze swept over him, she saw not a tense warrior, but a calm young man examining the horizon. Yet, Lyrus was cultivating every moment—testing the Million Steps System's subtlety. He took one step backward, feeling power ripple through his core, then a half-step forward, stabilizing that energy silently.
They encountered a small band of would-be raiders that afternoon. Before Kael could warn him, Lyrus moved—smooth, unruffled. He seemed to stand still one second, then appeared behind the leader the next, disarming him with a flick of the wrist. The other raiders froze, intimidated by his presence and the faint shimmer of Hellfire in his eyes.
Alyra marveled. He made it look effortless. As the raiders fled, terrified, whispers of the HellSin name spread another few miles. Lyrus said nothing, only nodding to his companions, cool and composed, the silent architect of a rising legacy.