The Men Who Burn

The wind bit at his skin, sharp and unforgiving, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke. The town was draped in heavy silence, the kind that made even the stars seem cautious. The buildings, once warm with the glow of lanterns, now stood like hollowed-out husks, their wooden frames groaning under the weight of the night. Faint echoes of the day's chatter still lingered in the air, like whispers trapped in the cracks of cobblestone paths. 

A stray breeze rustled through the empty streets, sending leaves spiraling into the darkness. The flickering remnants of a torch cast long, distorted shadows against the walls, stretching and twisting like unseen figures lurking in the alleys. Every step Zen took felt too loud, his boots crunching against gravel, the sound swallowed immediately by the quiet. 

Even the moon, half-hidden behind a group of clouds, seemed reluctant to cast its light over the town. It was as if the night itself was holding its breath, waiting for something—or someone—to stir.

"You like nights, Muki?" Zen whispered, his voice barely above the wind.

Muki's tail flicked, a soft meow escaping her tiny mouth.

"Yeah… I don't." He let out a breath, watching it fog up in the cold air. "My dad used to tell me stories about Grims—how they roamed at night, snatching away lost souls. I was terrified to step outside alone after dark."

Muki blinked, unimpressed.

Zen chuckled under his breath. "Guess it doesn't matter now. I'm already a lost soul."

The cat meowed again as if agreeing.

Zen sighed, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. "Alright, let's go see what this town is hiding."

With that, he stepped forward into the shadows. 

The cathedral stood at the heart of the town, a relic of the past, its towering spires stretching toward the heavens like grasping fingers. The stone was ancient, worn by time and weather, yet still standing with an air of dignity. Vines crept along its edges, weaving into the cracks, nature's quiet attempt to reclaim what was once hers. 

A large, circular stained-glass window adorned the front, its colors dulled by dust and age. Even in the moonlight, Zen could make out the faded image of a winged figure—whether it was meant to be a god, a saint, or something else entirely, he couldn't tell. Two statues flanked the massive wooden doors, their faces eroded into featureless voids. Their hands, clasped in silent prayer, seemed almost unsettling in the dim glow. 

The iron lock on the entrance was thick, rusted, and unyielding. Zen reached out, brushing his fingers against the heavy chains wrapped around the handles. It was cold and unforgiving. 

"What's a place like this doing locked up?" he muttered, eyes narrowing. 

Muki let out a soft meow, her ears twitching as if sensing something beyond the tangible. 

Zen exhaled, stepping back. The quiet was heavier here. Thicker. 

Something about this place felt… wrong.

Muki let out a sharp meow again, her small body tense. Her ears stood straight, her fur bristling. It was the first time Zen had seen her react like this.

"Muki? What's wrong?" he asked, following her gaze. She was staring at a wide street leading out of town, almost like a highway.

Zen frowned. This town seems better than ours...

Before he could dwell on the thought, bells rang out. Loud. Piercing. They echoed from all directions, their chimes clashing like a warning siren.

Zen turned towards the noise. The guards were moving, their eyes sharp, their posture tense. People were running—not away, but towards something. The cathedral? Zen's brows furrowed as he watched an old man unlock the massive doors. The moment they creaked open, the townspeople rushed inside.

What the hell is happening?

His instincts screamed at him. He scooped up Muki and followed the crowd, slipping through the doors just as more people flooded in. Within minutes, the entire town had gathered inside. The air was thick with hushed whispers, confusion, and fear.

Then, the Elder stepped forward. The one who had unlocked the cathedral. He raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. His voice was calm, yet heavy.

"Children," he said, his gaze sweeping over them. "Do not fear them. They are here for one of you."

Zen stiffened. Them? Who the hell is 'them'?

The Elder continued, his tone unwavering. "May I know who among you has sinned?"

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd. People exchanged glances, confusion written on their faces.

Zen felt his stomach drop. His pulse pounded in his ears as the weight of the words settled over him.

Sinned? Children? What the fuck is going on?

The heavy wooden door rattled as if something—or someone—was trying to force its way inside. A deep, guttural voice boomed through the cathedral.

"CHILDREN, WHO HAS SINNED?"

The Elder's voice cut through the thick silence, laced with authority and something far worse—expectation. His gaze swept over the crowd before he let out a slow sigh, clearly unimpressed.

"Don't make me take the hard route."

Then, his piercing eyes locked onto Zen.

A new face. An outsider.

Zen's stomach twisted. He was already bad at conversations but under pressure? His tongue felt like lead.

"Who are you?" the Elder demanded.

Zen's throat dried up. He hesitated, shifting slightly as every pair of eyes in the cathedral turned toward him. The tall girl, the one who had led him here, stepped forward.

"He claims to be an adventurer," she said, her voice calm but distant.

"Adventurer, huh?" The Elder's tone dripped with suspicion, his gaze never wavering.

Zen could hear the blood pounding in his ears. His hands gripped Muki tighter, and he felt the tiny creature purring against his chest—though it was more of a nervous hum than a content one.

"What is that creature?" the Elder snapped.

Muki flinched at the sudden rise in his voice.

Zen swallowed hard, scrambling for words. The door behind them shook violently again, the force behind it growing stronger.

"I-I am Zen," he stammered, forcing the words out. "And this is Muki. I found her in the forest."

The Elder studied him for a long moment. The tension in the air thickened, pressing down on Zen, like an invisible weight.

Outside, something slammed against the door hard enough to make the wooden beams creak.

And then, the bells rang.

"What's going on?" Zen asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Elder turned to him, his expression grim. "Outside stand the Men." His voice was slow, deliberate. "The Men Who Burn."

Zen's breath hitched.

"For years, no one in this town had sinned," the Elder continued, his gaze locking onto Zen like a predator sizing up its prey. "But strangely, the moment you arrived, so did they."

The weight of his words pressed down on Zen's chest.

"So tell me, boy…" The Elder took a step closer. "Are you a SINNER?"

Zen's heart pounded against his ribs. He swallowed hard.

The Core…

The Elder's lips curled into something between a sneer and a smirk. "Ah… so you did get your hands on the Core."

Zen's blood ran cold. How did he—

"Throw this boy outside."

The command was final. Absolute.

Murmurs turned to movement. The townspeople surged toward Zen, their faces eerily blank, like puppets obeying their master's will.

"No—wait!" Zen staggered back, gripping Muki tightly against his chest. The kitten let out a frightened meow, claws digging into his tunic.

Hands grabbed at his arms, his shoulders, his clothes. He struggled, twisting, kicking, panic rising like bile in his throat.

They were going to throw him out.

Out there.

With the Men Who Burn.