Ashes and Echoes

The city hadn't changed.

Still carved in marble. Still cloaked in white banners and white lies. But Lucan had changed.

He stood beneath the grand cathedral— the temple of sermons were he use to come daily as the devote member he is or once was.

[Target: Thalos Verin]

[Target Status: Unaware — Conducting disciples' evaluations]

[Optional Bonus: Kill before sunset for public exposure bonus]

Lucan exhaled sharply and moved forward.

The system loved symbolic timing.

So would he in due time.

He moved through the silent halls.

Each footstep echoed and as he moved, he remembered, old memories clawing its way back.

[Proximity: 200 meters]

[Heartbeat signature confirmed: Thalos Verin]

Lucan stopped at a cracked marble pillar.

Here, ten years ago, a broken boy had fallen—bleeding, humiliated, weeping in the dust.

---

FLASHBACK: Ten Years Earlier

He couldn't stop crying.

His wooden training blade was shattered. His ribs throbbed and ached. The older disciples laughed as they walked off.

Lucan curled in on himself, coughing and whimpering.

"Get up."

A voice. Cold. Commanding. Familiar.

Lucan looked up, his eyes blurry with tears.

Thalos stood above him—arms crossed, crimson cloak brushing, looking like he owned the place.

"I… I'm not strong enough," Lucan whispered. "They said I don't belong."

Thalos knelt.

He didn't offer a hand.

Instead, he placed something beside Lucan's fingers—a real blade. Cold. Sharpened. Waiting.

"Wood breaks," Thalos said. "Steel learns to bend. But you? You will never break."

Lucan stared at the weapon. Then at the man.

"I'm not like them."

"No. You're better."

Thalos laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Because you still cry. Because you still feel. And when the time comes, Lucan… you'll remember this pain."

Lucan sniffed, nodding. "Will it make me stronger?"

Thalos smiled—something rare, something real.

"No. It'll make you dangerous."

---

[SYSTEM ALERT: Elevated heartbeat detected]

[Emotional dissonance—spiking]

[Suppression protocol: Failed]

[Recalibrating ma̴͔̍l̴̬͗i̶̻͝c̶͙̽e̸̡̽ .̷͚́.̵̟͐.̵͉̚ ]

[WARNING: Fragmented memory loop—active]

---

Lucan blinked—back in the present.

His hand gripped the pillar as he clenched his knuckles.

The man who once pulled him from the dirt… had handed him to the slaughter.

The hand that gave him a sword… had signed his death warrant.

---

FLASHBACK 2: Three years before the Rite.

Caught where he shouldn't be—inside the forbidden wing of the Temple Archives. Dust clunged to his robe.

Lucan knelt in silence, awaiting punishment.

Thalos didn't strike.

He didn't speak.

He simply watched.

Then stepped forward. Once. Twice.

Stopped beside the boy.

"Why?"

"I wanted to know what was behind the seals," Lucan said quietly. "I wanted to read the gods' words with my own eyes."

Thalos sighed.

He didn't yell.

He knelt.

And then… he embraced him.

His arms, strong and rough from years of training.

"You're not like them," Thalos whispered. "And that terrifies me."

Lucan hesitated. "You're afraid… of me?"

Thalos exhaled, his eyes sharp.

"No. I'm afraid for you."

His hand landed on Lucan's chest firmly.

"You burn too brightly. And this world… it doesn't let bright things live long."

Lucan met his gaze. "Then protect me."

Thalos smiled bitterly and said:

"I won't let them take you. Not until they pry you from my hands."

---

Back to the now.

Lucan exhaled slowly.

His fingers brushed his chest—right where Thalos once touched him.

The same place the ceremonial dagger had pierced.

"Liar," Lucan hissed.

---

FLASHBACK 3: The Day of Ascension

The altar pulsed beneath him—warm with his own blood as the runes shimmered.

Lucan gasped, his vision swimming. His white robes were drenched in red.

The priests chanted.

The runes blazed.

And then…

Thalos appeared.

Lucan's eyes widened. At first relief and then confusion.

"Master…?"

Thalos knelt and slowly but gently brushed Lucan's hair with a hand.

"You were always my brightest flame," he whispered. "And now, your fire will light the gods' path."

"No—wait—what are you—"

A kiss to his forehead.

Gentle and final.

Then Thalos stood. Placed his hand over Lucan's chest.

"Begin the Rite."