First appearance

"Ugh..."

A pained groan came from the bed.

Starlight pressed her throbbing temples and slowly opened her eyes. She stared blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling for two seconds, then abruptly sat up and looked down to check her clothes.

Her clothes were intact. Even her shoes were still on.

She breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward Lucian, who was sitting in a chair.

"Did you sit here all night?" Starlight's voice was still a little hoarse from her hangover.

"What else? Leave you on the street for some homeless guy to pick up?" Lucian turned around and looked at her with the sunlight at his back.

Starlight rubbed her messy hair, a somewhat complicated smile tugging at her lips. "Most people wouldn't pass up an opportunity this good. A drunk superhero lying on a motel bed. That's a scenario plenty of men dream about."

"In most countries, doing that without permission is called, well, you know what, right?" Lucian retorted expressionlessly.

Starlight froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Once the laughter escaped her, even she paused in surprise. It was the first time in two days she had laughed without forcing it at all, and much of the weariness weighing on her face faded.

"You're really something, Lu." She climbed out of bed and stretched. "Thank you. Not just for last night, but for what you warned me about before."

"You're welcome." Lucian glanced at his phone. "It's seven in the morning. Do you need to go back to Vought Tower? Or do you want to try a local Brooklyn breakfast?"

"No, I have to go back." Starlight's expression grew serious again. "Madelyn wants to talk to me about the new costume today. I can't keep running away."

"Made up your mind?"

"I have." Starlight tucked her disheveled blonde hair behind her ears and slowly straightened up. "If this place is a cesspit, then I'll be the one holding the shovel. I won't let them push me around so easily."

Lucian offered no further advice.

This was how Starlight should be.

The two left the motel and stepped onto the street. The morning air in New York was crisp and cold. The coffee carts on the street were already open, giving off an enticing aroma.

Lucian hailed a taxi for her.

Starlight opened the door and stepped one foot inside, then suddenly stopped.

She turned back to look at Lucian. "Take out your phone."

Lucian raised an eyebrow, took out his phone, and handed it over.

Starlight quickly entered a string of numbers and pressed call. A second later, the phone in her pocket vibrated.

"This is my private number." Starlight handed the phone back to Lucian. "No one knows it except my family. If... if you ever run into trouble, or just want someone to have a drink with, you can call me."

"Okay." Lucian took the phone and looked at the string of numbers on the screen.

"Goodbye, Lu."

"Goodbye, Annie."

The taxi merged into the morning rush-hour traffic and soon disappeared down the street.

Lucian stood where he was and slipped his phone into his pocket.

He raised his right hand and willed it.

There was a soft pop.

A spare bulb on the nearby streetlight pole instantly went dark, while a dazzling white light flashed across Lucian's palm, vanishing so quickly it almost seemed imagined.

Lucian smiled.

This feels pretty good.

Lucian lowered his right hand and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He walked along the streets of Brooklyn toward the subway station, already planning his next move.

Light Energy Manipulation LV4. Useful as it is, though, this ability can't see the light of day for now. Starlight is a new member of the Seven, and Vought's database has a complete record of her ability's characteristics. If I casually show off a light blast in public, anyone with half a brain could connect me to Starlight. Translucent's Carbon Skin is fine, though. At least it doesn't show on the surface.

Looks like I'll have to keep the Starlight card completely under wraps. At least I can't play it yet.

The subway car was packed with commuters. Lucian found a corner to stand in, took out his phone, and glanced at his class schedule.

Two in the afternoon. Practical demonstration day.

Godolkin held these events twice a semester, ostensibly to assess students' progress in developing their abilities. In reality, they were paraded before the university's senior staff so they could assess everyone's commercial potential.

At last month's entrance assessment, my stats were Super Physique LV1 and Shockwave LV2. At this school, that probably put me in the "some talent, but needs nurturing" category.

But that won't do today. If I perform too weakly, I'll get sidelined. Looks like I'll have to keep my physical performance a little above LV2. A reasonable amount of progress, not enough to raise suspicions.

Lucian ran through the plan in his head, turned off the screen, and closed his eyes.

Godolkin University's practical training ground was indoors, about half the size of a soccer field. By the time Lucian changed and entered, more than thirty people were already standing inside.

Most were freshmen, with a few upperclassmen scattered among them. The freshmen loosened their joints in groups of three or five and talked quietly, while the upperclassmen leaned against the wall, radiating boredom.

Several figures stood in the second-floor observation gallery.

Professor Brink. A finely tailored dark blue suit, his arms folded across his chest. Beside him stood Shetty, the university's president, and the two were talking quietly.

A teaching assistant wearing a headset walked to the center of the field and raised a tablet.

"Today's practical demonstrations will use random pairings. The system has matched your opponents based on your entrance assessment data. Enter the central area when you hear your name. Each match lasts three minutes. Knock your opponent out of bounds or render them unable to fight to win. Lethal attacks are prohibited."

The first few matches were lackluster. Two LV1 strength types shoved each other around in the center, while Shetty repeatedly shook her head in the observation gallery.

Lucian stood in a corner, silently noting the characteristics of everyone's abilities.

The seventh match.

"Lucian, freshman. Versus—Jason Walsh, junior."

The field fell silent for several seconds.

A freshman against a junior?

Lucian strode toward the center, catching the gloating expressions on several freshmen's faces out of the corner of his eye. Jason Walsh was already standing opposite him.

He was just over six foot three, with shoulders broad enough to block half a doorway and arm muscles that stretched his training clothes taut. He looked to have at least Super Physique LV3.

Walsh looked down and gave Lucian a once-over.

"You sure you're in the right place? Yoga class is next door."

A few laughs came from the crowd. Lucian said nothing. He rolled his neck twice and lowered his center of gravity slightly. The teaching assistant raised a hand.

"Begin."

Walsh charged straight at him.

His LV3 explosive power brought him right in front of Lucian in the blink of an eye, his right fist whipping toward Lucian's temple with a rush of wind.

Lucian turned sideways.

The fist skimmed past his ear. Rather than retreat, Lucian stepped forward and drove his right elbow toward Walsh's ribs.

Thud.

A dull impact rang out. Walsh's upper body swayed, but his feet didn't budge. His LV3 bone density and muscle thickness were no joke. With Lucian deliberately suppressing his strength to LV2, that elbow strike wasn't enough to hurt him.

Walsh seized the opening to grab Lucian's forearm and yank him toward himself.

Lucian's feet scraped two white streaks across the floor as he was dragged stumbling forward. Walsh's other fist was already swinging around, aimed straight at his chest. With the physical toughness Lucian was currently displaying, a solid hit would break at least two ribs.

The instant the fist came down, he stopped holding back defensively, while drawing in his chest and pulling back to shed some of the force along the punch's trajectory.

The fist struck him square in the chest. Lucian took two steps back, weathering the attack.

Walsh's fist paused for an instant. In his experience, even if that punch didn't send an opponent flying, it should have been enough to put them flat on the ground. But the person before him had only retreated two steps and was still standing steady. That moment of hesitation lasted less than half a second.

But it was enough.

Lucian planted his feet against his backward momentum, lowered his center of gravity, and pressed the heel of his right palm against Walsh's abdomen.

Shockwave.

Boom.

An invisible force shoved Walsh back. He didn't fall, but his defensive stance had broken, leaving his right ribs completely exposed.

Lucian gave him no time to adjust. He closed in with two steps and feinted with his left fist, forcing Walsh to raise his hands to block on the left.

A second Shockwave from his right hand struck Walsh precisely in the right ribs.

Walsh went flying sideways. The six-foot-three man spun halfway around in midair and crashed heavily onto the edge of the combat area, half his body across the white line.

Out of bounds.

The training ground fell utterly silent. Everyone who had laughed earlier shut their mouths.

The teaching assistant glanced down at the tablet, then looked up again to confirm Walsh's position.

"Lucian wins."