Syed_Ariz

Requiem of the Fallen
Once called a prodigy, Ariz al-Suleiman was cast aside when his power was sealed. Betrayed, beaten, and left for dead, he awakens with a mysterious system and a second chance.

But the world doesn’t forgive. And neither does he.

When the Church burns his home and kills his grandfather, Ariz sheds his humanity. No longer a hero—he becomes a force of vengeance, bound to destroy everything that wronged him.

With blood as his path and demons as his future, Ariz’s war is just beginning.

THRONE OF SHADOW AND SIN

Chapter 36 – When Eyes Pretend Not to See

Part 1: Ghosts in the Smoke

The city didn't wake with bells or shouting vendors like Almaarad had. It stirred instead like a wounded thing—sluggish, paranoid. Ashern swept the tavern floor in silence, ears tuned more to footsteps in the alley than the dull scrape of wood across stone.

But her presence lingered like smoke.

Not in scent—in pressure.

She'd said just enough to expose her intent without confessing it. And that made her a professional.

He finished his work early. The bartender grunted something about restocking kegs and waved him off with a lazy hand.

Ashern left by the side door, melted into the early foot traffic, and pulled his hood low.

Ziraka's upper district sloped like a claw around the central plateau where the cathedral stood—white and gold and polished to disguise the rot beneath it. Narrow alleys curved up between merchant homes, all built with defensive paranoia: narrow windows, high ledges, reinforced doors.

Perfect for following someone unseen.

Ashern took the outer ring path, pacing slowly, staying three rows back from the cathedral gate. The guards were minimal. Two knights. One clerk. No sigils glowing. No patrols circling.

And people like her.

It took nearly an hour before he spotted her.

No scarf today. No cloak. She walked with the grace of someone born above fear, speaking to no one, but recognized by many. A merchant waved. A temple page bowed subtly. She offered no smile in return.

She entered the cathedral grounds from the west arch.

Not a rebel. Not neutral. She's inside.

Found a roofline three levels up with crumbling tiles and a forgotten altar built into the corner—one of the old sun cult shrines no longer maintained.

He knelt behind it, activated Flowing Shadow, and watched.

She met with a priest. Not an old one. Mid-thirties. Bald. Well-fed. Someone used to power without needing to show it. They didn't speak long—just a few words, a touch to the sleeve, and then they descended into the inner courtyard stairwell.

Not many stairs led downward in holy buildings.

[System Notification: Hidden Objective Discovered]

"Unregistered Cathedral Substructure Identified"

➤ Location: Ziraka – Central Vault (Access Level: 3rd Flame)

"Every cathedral buries something. This one still breathes."

Ashern stayed there another hour. Still. Watching the door. No return.

Seréya worked with the Church. Not as a pawn—as an asset. And the way she'd spoken to him last night… it wasn't flirtation.

Back in the alley near the tavern, a loose brick in the wall cracked as Ashern leaned against it.

"They know someone's in Ziraka," he whispered to himself. "They're not sure who."

But he was being marked.

And soon, the next cathedral would burn.