Whispers

Lukas quickly ran up the stairs to his apartment. His heart was in a frenzy, and he felt too restless to take the elevator.

"Shit! I just left him there!" Lukas thought to himself in a panic as he cursed quietly. He clutched his head with trembling fingers.

Sweat crept down his back as he thought about Manuel's lifeless body and Hero letting him walk free. Lukas stopped in the stairwell and tried to stop his quaking hands as he looked around with paranoia.

Hero could be toying with him.

Who was Hero? Why did he know Lukas? He said they grew up together?

A thousand thoughts ran through his head at a shocking speed. He was going to collapse any second now, he could tell.

"What'll happen to me? The police? Do I tell them? Do I tell Manuel's family?!" Lukas thought as he paced back and forth in the stairwell, panic settling in.

Usually, he was a calm-headed individual, even in the face of danger. However, this was far too much for him. His world was crumbling down, more so than it ever had before.

He continued to curse and question everything in that tiny space between floors.

He gripped the railing, stopped for a moment, and forced himself to look at things from a rational perspective. He wouldn't get anywhere by panicking.

Sweat dripped down his head as he looked down to the first floor. He bit his lip as he started to think.

"He knows me, and he knew Manuel. He says we grew up together… I need answers, but I can't be too aggressive in getting them. Who knows what will happen if they find me digging for them. I can't take his word either; he could be lying."

He tapped his fingers against the railing.

"What do I even do if the police come to question me? I'll need an alibi, but I left the body there. It'll be as simple as asking the restaurant to see any security footage."

He froze.

"But if that's the case, then they'd see Hero... No. The footage will be gone by tomorrow. He looked careless, but there was no way he would've been that sloppy. Unless the police are in on it."

He settled on that thought for a moment but discarded it.

"That's too paranoid. I need to be rational. Hero will probably erase it tonight when the place is closed. He'd get rid of the body too unless he plans on it getting caught."

There were too many possibilities, but unless the police were involved, Hero should get rid of the evidence himself—or get help. Either way, Lukas concluded he would only be caught if he was framed or the police were involved.

He was too weak to stop either option—it was as simple as that. However, Lukas didn't enjoy being at the mercy of one of the strongest people in the world.

He lowered his head and cursed quietly, "Why did I have to get wrapped up in this! All because of a stupid letter!"

"Wait."

His hand instantly shot to his suit pocket, where he had shoved the letter when he arrived at his apartment building. He dug it out quickly and then sprinted up the stairs, making his way to his abode.

When he opened the door, he saw his mother at the dinner table, sitting in her wheelchair. When she saw her son, her eyes lit up with joy.

It didn't last long when she saw his dreary disposition.

"Lukas, you're home late…" His mother was worried. Her son and daughter stayed to help care for her, but she hated it.

She wanted her son to live a worry-free life, but judging by his paler-than-usual skin and sweaty face, that wasn't happening. She felt like a bother, as it was much harder for her to help him.

She wanted to take care of her son, not vice versa.

"Lukas?" She softly called out to him.

However, Lukas quickly hugged his mother and said he needed to work before rapidly going to his room.

"…" She touched her ear as she wondered what had happened.

In his room, Lukas tore the letter out of his pocket, damp with sweat, and scanned it for clues. He read it repeatedly for a hint about who Hero was, but there was nothing. It was just a regular letter talking about this and that.

Manuel was correct, however. It was from his boss, Connor, to the Aska Association branch President. It was just about an [S- Tier] dungeon getting raided tomorrow. It had a struck-out sentence at the bottom, excusing itself for its "poor" grammar.

He calmed himself just as he was about to crumble it in frustration.

"Even if this held the key to Hero's identity, what would I do? I can't just walk into the Association and point a finger – 'That man is Blah Blah Blah, and he killed my friend!' They'd fire me on the spot, and Hero would kill me in some alley."

Lukas sank into his office chair and tossed the letter into the drawer.

"I need to devise a way to get back at him before he decides to kill me. But how do you kill someone who's essentially a god? An [S Rank] Warden worthy of being in the National Guild of Aska."

He simply couldn't think of anything.

'Heroes save the world.'

He thought back to his childhood.

"Who the hell could it be?!" He groaned in frustration.

James passed away a long time ago, Randall was [A- Rank], Alex was [A- Rank] too now, it obviously wasn't his sister, and the twins disappeared – never mind that they were girls and that Hero was a boy.

Lukas had a small friend group back then, so it was either Randall or Alex. But which of them had enough time to act like two different people?

'Thinking of it like that, it was probably the twins, but they were girls, and Rose's personality wasn't in the least bit interested in being a Warden. As for Kira… well, Kira was Kira. She lacked a personality, and her sister, Rose, made up for it.'

Lukas ruffled his hair before dropping his head on his wooden desk.

All of his old friends were amazing. He wanted to be amazing, too. He was supposed to be there right alongside them. When tested for their aptitude as kids, each and every one of them was revealed to be a future powerhouse.

'We were supposed to become [S Ranked] together.'

In a small town in the middle of nowhere, it was simply *impossible*.

Eleven children, all S-Ranks? No one would believe it.

Lukas raised his head, "No, it was twelve. There was also that other kid." He frowned and placed his finger against his chin, "Could that have been Hero?"

"But he lived on the other side of town and never hung out with us… Ugh!" Lukas slammed his fist against his desk.

"I need to talk with Alex and Randall, but how would I even contact them?" He cursed under his breath.

Too many things were strange about his childhood; he simply waved the peculiarities away before and didn't want to think about them after the accident. But, simply put, they needed explaining. His body, though, yearned for a deep rest.

Not wanting to fall asleep in his chair, he dragged his body over to his bed. As he sat in it, he could feel his body quickly relaxing as he let out a long overdue exhale.

He stared at his plain ceiling as the sounds of the outside city bustled about, still alive even in the evening.

His bed quickly took hold of him as though it was wrapping warm arms around him – lulling him to sleep. Quickly, his eyes began to flutter before eventually closing.

His body seemed to fall into place as he rested in a deep slumber. The busyness outside his windows eventually settled down, and everything was normal. In his deep slumber, though, he was dreaming of strange things that he wouldn't quite remember upon waking up.

Eventually, though, he felt something. His eyes twitched under his eyelids as his face contorted.

Two hands slowly drifted across his face, gently caressing him.

"What is the genuine structure behind humanity's motivations? Are they the masters of the dungeons, or are they but slaves to them? Is their preconceived destiny towards greatness a folly? Beware of the purpose behind the gates, Mr. Lucroy. Whether you win or fail this game you are about to be subjected to – humanity will despise you for eons. Have faith, however…

"This game you are about to play, you will try your hardest to lose. Every alternate avenue will find you falling deeper and deeper into the direction you'll try to avoid. But you *will* win. For the better of everyone. Now wake up; there is much to be done."

Lukas shot up in his bed with sweat pouring down his back. He quickly looked around his room with a disheveled appearance – searching for the source of his discomfort. His mouth was agape as he panted heavily.

The light was pouring in from the morning sun, causing him to squint immediately. However, his eyes didn't play tricks on him, as his room was undoubtedly empty. He knew something had just happened to him, but what was it?

He couldn't remember clearly, and it scared him. He closed his eyes and repeated a saying he had heard many times while enlisted in his country's military. Sweat beaded upon his forehead as he quietly opened his mouth.

"To fear death is to fear the life we're given. Doubtless, fear will wash over me, but as all things, it shall pass. I will let it warn me but not consume me. I will let it teach me, but not dictate me. I will let it pass, and I will go without fear."

He was calmer when he opened his eyes to see his desk before him, with his keys sitting on it. His heart had steeled itself. Whatever was to come, he had to be prepared. He had faced death before; he would simply do it again.

It was time to head to work.