Aetterus

The air in the East of Elakia was thick with mist, the ground damp from the constant spray of the massive Lake Avalis. Its once-pristine shores now bore scars of destruction—blackened trees, shattered stones, and the faint remnants of ash that never seemed to wash away. The ruins of the village of Lakewood stood solemn and desolate, the only sound the lapping of the lake's restless waves against the jagged shore.

Aetterus Voss stood among the rubble, his patchwork robes trailing behind him as he surveyed the remains of his hometown. His hazel eyes, usually alight with mischief and cunning, were darkened with a rare solemnity. The air was heavy, not just with moisture but with the lingering echoes of something ancient and malevolent. A Sin had been here, and its presence still clung to the ruins like a shadow.

"This was your doing, wasn't it?" he muttered, his voice low, carrying only to himself. "Greed…"

He crouched down near a broken stone wall, his fingers tracing the deep scorch marks that marred its surface. A faint energy thrummed beneath his touch, the telltale residue of Sin magic. It wasn't his own—Pride had no use for this kind of reckless, destructive power. No, this was something else entirely. Something insatiable.

Aetterus rose to his feet, the faint hum of Sin energy lingering in the air like an old, sour melody. He closed his eyes, focusing, feeling the ebb and flow of the unnatural magic around him. As a Sin himself, he had a unique attunement to the others, even if he couldn't always place them. Greed was close—too close.

"You're clever," he said aloud, his smirk returning faintly. "Clever enough to hide yourself from me. But you can't mask the stench of your handiwork."

The village of Lakewood had been a quiet place once, nestled against the edge of the lake and surrounded by lush green forests. Aetterus could still picture it in his mind—the bustling market stalls, the fishermen hauling their catches, the laughter of children playing along the shore. It was where he'd grown up, long before he became what he was now. Long before Pride had claimed him.

And now, it was gone.

He took a step forward, his boots crunching against shards of broken pottery. The memories of his childhood here were fragmented, hazy, but they surfaced now, unbidden, as he walked through the ruins. His mother's gentle smile, his father's booming laugh, the way the sunlight had danced on the water in the early morning. All of it stolen by Greed.

"You can't hide forever," Aetterus said, his voice sharper now. "I'll find you. I'll find every last one of us, whether they want to be found or not."

A sudden shift in the air made him stop. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but to Aetterus, it was unmistakable. The presence of another Sin, distant but unmistakable, brushed against his senses like a cold wind. His heart quickened, though he didn't let it show.

"Not Greed," he muttered, narrowing his eyes as he turned toward the source of the sensation. "Something else. Someone else."

He straightened his posture, his smirk returning in full force. "Well, well. This just got interesting."

Aetterus's musings were interrupted by the sound of crunching gravel behind him. He turned his head slightly, his sharp hazel eyes narrowing as he spotted the figure approaching. It was Thorne, his sword sheathed at his side, his heavy boots kicking up small puffs of dust as he walked. His usually stoic face was a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Aetterus," Thorne called, his voice steady. "You're out here too?"

Aetterus's smirk deepened, his patchwork robes catching the faint breeze as he turned fully to face the younger man. "Of course, Thorne. How could I not be? A place of such… historical significance deserves my attention."

Thorne frowned, his gaze drifting to the ruined village around them. "This was Lakewood, right? Your home?"

"Once," Aetterus replied casually, gesturing to the ruins with a flourish. "Though it's little more than a memory now. Time has not been kind, and neither have those who wield power without restraint."

Thorne stopped a few feet away, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. "Who did this? Was it one of the Sins?"

Aetterus's smirk faltered for a split second before returning, sharper and more calculating. "Who indeed? The world is rife with chaos, Thorne. Pointing fingers is such a mundane exercise, don't you think?"

Thorne scowled, clearly unsatisfied. "You're always so vague, Aetterus. If it was a Sin, and you know it, why not just say it?"

Aetterus chuckled, the sound low and rich, like the purr of a cat that knew it held the upper hand. "Because, dear Thorne, knowledge is a treasure. One does not simply hand it out to those who have not earned it."

Thorne muttered something under his breath, likely a curse, but Aetterus paid him no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back to the past.

Seven hundred and fifty years ago… such a quaint little time. Simpler, in some ways. Harder, in others. The world was cruel then, but at least it was honest about it. No masks of civility to hide the rot beneath. A faint glimmer of nostalgia crossed his face before his prideful nature pushed it aside. Still, this modern era has its charms. So much chaos, so many fragile souls to mold and manipulate. A playground for those of us with vision.

Thorne's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "You're thinking again. That look on your face… it's the same one you had before the last time you sent us into a trap."

Aetterus laughed, the sound echoing unnervingly in the desolate village. "Oh, Thorne, your lack of faith wounds me. Do you truly believe I would lead my guild into peril without purpose?"

"Yes," Thorne said bluntly, crossing his arms. "Because you think you're the smartest person in the room. Every room."

"Ah, but I am," Aetterus replied smoothly, his grin widening. "And I am rarely wrong. You, my dear Thorne, are simply too shortsighted to see the grand design."

Thorne sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Then what's the 'grand design' here? What's the point of being out in the middle of nowhere, digging up the past?"

Aetterus tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "The point, my young friend, is that the past holds the keys to the future. Every ruin, every scar, every tragedy… they all leave behind echoes. And I, unlike most, know how to listen."

Thorne's gaze hardened, his patience clearly wearing thin. "And what are these 'echoes' telling you now?"

Aetterus's expression grew more serious, though the prideful glint never left his eyes. "They tell me that Greed was here. The Sin that consumed this village, leaving nothing but ashes and sorrow in its wake. A most intriguing player in the game, though their identity remains… elusive."

Thorne's jaw tightened, but he held his tongue as Aetterus continued, his tone growing darker. "But make no mistake, Thorne. The Sins are gathering. One by one, they will reveal themselves, and the world will tremble beneath their influence."

"And what about you?" Thorne asked, his voice low. "Where do you fit into all of this, Aetterus? What's your role?"

Aetterus's smirk returned, sharper than ever. "My role, Thorne, is to ensure that when the dust settles, I remain standing at the pinnacle. Pride demands nothing less."

Thorne narrowed his eyes, his unease growing with each passing moment. "The pinnacle? What are you even talking about, Aetterus? What's your real goal here?"

Aetterus's smirk didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or maybe something darker. He twirled a small trinket hanging from his belt, its faint clinking the only sound in the otherwise oppressive silence. "Ah, Thorne, always so curious. A fine trait, truly, but one that can be dangerous if not tempered with caution."

"That's not an answer," Thorne pressed, his tone firm. "You talk in circles, always dodging the truth. What do you really want, Aetterus? Why are you so interested in the Sins, in all this chaos?"

Aetterus chuckled, the sound soft but unsettling. He turned away from Thorne, his gaze drifting over the ruins of Lakewood. The mist swirled around him, shrouding his form in an almost ethereal haze. "The truth is such a malleable thing, Thorne. One man's truth is another man's delusion. As for my interest in the Sins… let's just say I have a vested interest in seeing how the pieces of this grand puzzle fall into place."

"That's still not an answer," Thorne said through gritted teeth, his frustration evident. "You always dodge the hard questions. Why?"

Aetterus turned back to him then, his smile widening in a way that sent a chill down Thorne's spine. "Because, dear Thorne, some questions are better left unanswered. Besides, wouldn't you rather marvel at the mystery than spoil it with mundane certainty?"

Thorne frowned, his unease growing. "You're impossible to talk to, you know that?"

"Impossible? No, no," Aetterus said with mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. "I am an enigma, a conundrum wrapped in the finest patchwork fabric. To be impossible would suggest a lack of effort, and I assure you, Thorne, I am quite the opposite."

Thorne's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, not in aggression but as a subconscious act of grounding himself. "You're deflecting again."

"Am I?" Aetterus replied with an almost sing-song tone, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief. "Or am I simply encouraging you to think for yourself, to draw your own conclusions? A leader, after all, does not spoon-feed his followers; he inspires them to seek their own truths."

Thorne stared at him for a long moment, his frustration evident. "You're not a leader, Aetterus. You're just a man with too many secrets."

"Ah, but secrets are what keep life interesting," Aetterus said with a grin. "And isn't it better to have a few secrets than to lay all your cards on the table for anyone to see?"

Thorne didn't reply, his unease growing as he watched the older man. There was something about Aetterus's demeanor—his cryptic words, his infuriating smirk, the way he carried himself as though the weight of the world was his to bear and discard at will—that made it clear he was hiding far more than he let on. But pressing him further felt like trying to squeeze water from a stone.

Aetterus must have noticed Thorne's lingering stare, because his grin widened into something almost sinister. "Come now, Thorne. Don't look at me like that. You'll give me a complex."

"You're already a complex," Thorne muttered under his breath.

Aetterus laughed, the sound light and carefree, though there was an undercurrent of something darker. "Oh, how I enjoy our little chats. You have such a way of keeping me grounded in the absurdity of it all."

Thorne didn't reply, his unease refusing to abate. He watched as Aetterus turned back toward the ruins, his expression thoughtful, almost somber.

"There's much work to be done," Aetterus said softly, more to himself than to Thorne. "The world is changing, my dear boy. And we must change with it, or be swept away."

Before Thorne could respond, Aetterus's grin returned, bright and sharp as ever. "Now, let us leave this melancholy place. It's time to rejoin the land of the living, wouldn't you agree?"

Without waiting for an answer, Aetterus strode away, his patchwork robes billowing behind him. Thorne hesitated for a moment before following, his mind churning with unanswered questions and an unsettling sense that whatever Aetterus was hiding, it was far more dangerous than he could have imagined.

Aetterus walked ahead, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot punctuating the eerie silence of the misty ruins. His smirk widened as he left Thorne behind, allowing the young man his moment of quiet reflection in the desolation of Lakewood. Alone now, Aetterus's expression shifted—his smile no longer playful but something darker, almost ravenous.

He stopped at the edge of a shattered fountain, leaning on the cracked stone rim. His fingers traced the jagged edges as his hazel eyes gleamed with an unsettling light. A low chuckle escaped his lips, soft at first, then growing louder, richer, as though he were savoring a private joke only he could understand.

"Changra," he murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like silk. "Or should I call you Chaos? The embodiment of disorder, destruction, and yet... potential. Oh, how I adore you, boy."

He tilted his head back, staring into the pale, overcast sky, as if addressing some unseen audience. "You've absorbed her, haven't you? Sweet, broken little Envy. Poor Berethia, so torn apart by her jealousy that she let herself be consumed. And now... now, her essence is part of you."

Aetterus's lips curled into a wider grin, the corners stretching unnaturally as he clasped his hands together, almost in prayer. "Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. Each Sin, a piece of the grand puzzle, and you, my dear Chaos, the centerpiece. The Crimson King's chosen vessel, the one who will usher in a new era."

He leaned closer to the fountain, his reflection shimmering faintly in the rippling water. "But you don't know, do you? That precious little dagger, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, playing its game of control. You think you can resist it, fight it, but it's part of you now. And every time you fight, every time you resist, you only feed it more. Delicious."

Aetterus reached into his patchwork robes and pulled out a small, ornate mirror. He tilted it in his hand, watching his distorted reflection twist and shimmer. "You're growing stronger, my lovely little chaos-bringer. Stronger with every death, every moment of pain, every ounce of rage that bubbles up in your fragile little soul. The Crimson King will blossom, and when he does... oh, the beauty of it all. A world reshaped in our image."

His voice dropped lower, more intimate, as though speaking directly to Changra despite the boy being miles away. "I've seen your power, Changra. Felt it. It's intoxicating, addictive, a symphony of destruction and despair. And when the time comes, when you finally break... I will be there to witness it. To nurture it. To bask in the glory of your ruin."

A shiver ran down his spine, but whether it was from delight or madness was unclear. He turned away from the fountain, his grin still etched on his face. "Soon, boy. Soon you'll understand what you truly are. And when that day comes... oh, how I'll cherish the chaos you bring."

With a flick of his wrist, Aetterus tucked the mirror back into his robes and began walking again, his laughter echoing through the ruins. It was a sound that didn't belong in a place of such devastation—gleeful, triumphant, and utterly devoid of remorse. A hymn of pride, sung by a man who saw himself as the orchestrator of all things, and the puppeteer of a boy he believed would change the world in fire and blood.