Thal, ???
In a spacious study lined with shelves full of books, scrolls, and other documents, a young man lay on the floor unmoving. A holographic screen displayed the photo of another young man with high cheekbones, a slender nose, messy dark hair, and intense, expressive eyes that carried an emotive depth.
"Why did the General fake your death? What is it about you that captured the attention of that horror? I guess I'll never find out—after all, you're a Deadman," Rowan spoke with a sly smile.
He was dressed in casual clothing consisting of a vest and loose pants, quite different from his usual formal attire. His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead. He looked elegant, like the heir of a noble house—yet he knew otherwise.
A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. He slowly rose to his feet and went to open it.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Mirabel," a soft voice responded from outside.
He turned the knob and opened the door. A short, blue-eyed young woman with a dead gaze and shoulder-length blonde hair stood motionless.
"Get inside, Mira." The young woman walked in slowly, her eyes scanning the place with a disgusted expression.
"This place is a pigsty. I thought I told you to put away your books after you were done reading them." Rowan froze.
The young woman was usually nonchalant, but when it came to cleanliness and hygiene, her calm shell broke—and she'd end up cleaning after his mess.
"Uhm—I was very busy. In fact, I arrived yesterday and didn't get the time to tidy up the study."
The girl shook her head and began picking up the books on the floor. He sighed and reluctantly helped her tidy up the place. Within an hour, they had finished, and the study finally looked habitable.
"Thank you, Mira."
She nodded and sat down. He followed her and did the same.
"Did you find out anything about the supposedly dead Thorne?" he asked, searching her eyes for an answer. But Mira's gaze remained unchanged, giving nothing away.
"I managed to get my hands on the CCTV footage from the day of the inauguration," she said, taking out a cellphone—something not allowed in Thal. She scrolled for a moment, then handed it to him.
Rowan took the phone and pressed play. Silence reigned in the study for a while. Eventually, he sighed and handed the phone back.
"That was embarrassing. To think the Twelve Kings would be powerless in front of an enemy like that? I wonder what the hell that thing was." He laughed on the surface, yet deep down he trembled.
"The Voiceless One spoke of something ancient coming. Could that thing be it?" he asked, though the question was more to himself than to Mira.
"You met that thing?" Mira asked, emotion finally flickering in her nonchalant gaze.
Rowan hesitantly nodded. He knew how Mira felt about the Conspiracy—to her, it wasn't just an enemy of humanity. It was personal.
"This is our last deal. I promise, after this last performance, we're going off the grid," he added.
"You really think it's just going to let you go? Just like that?"
He shook his head. Of course, there was no way it would let him go alive. That's why he had devised a plan. Thinking back on everything that had happened, it was about time he double-crossed the devil he'd been playing with.
"You'll be blown away by my last act," he said with a smile.
"Don't pull something idiotic, please. You know who you're up against, right?"
Mirabel's reminder made him frown before shrugging.
"Oh, I know. But does he know who he's up against?"
His words hung in the air unanswered. She stood and took his hand.
"Why didn't you come to me last night?" Her voice was even, but it made him tremble slightly. If the next words out of his mouth were deemed an excuse, he was in for a world of pain.
"To be honest with you, it slipped my mind."
She regarded him slowly from head to toe, then gave what he could only imagine was a smile. It made him relax a bit, but her next words made him shudder harder than when the Voiceless One had threatened him.
"So I slipped your mind? I'm that unimportant to you?"
She spoke the words with a semblance of a smile gracing her countenance. Panicking, he began looking around frantically for a way out. Yet the study was sealed, with no windows and only one door—right behind her.
"Did I tell you that you look really beautiful today?" he said hurriedly. The semblance of a smile only deepened, and he cursed his tongue.
"What about yesterday? Was I not beautiful then? Is that why you didn't come to me? Was that the reason I SLIPPED YOUR MIND?"
"What! No, I meant—ugh, never mind. I'm sorry, it won't happen again," he apologized sincerely.
"Of course it won't happen again. I'll make sure of it."
A suppressing aura burst out of her body and descended on him.
Thal, Grand Cathedral
Neil was in his room moping around, his distant gaze seeming to pierce through the ceiling. He should have treated him better. Kyle was always trying to spend time with him, yet he kept his distance. He had been too engrossed in his selfish ways, neglecting his younger brother who adored him.
The person who cheered for him at all times—whenever Kyle mastered something or leveled up, the first person he would tell was Neil. He'd come into his room with the brightest smile, excited to share his achievements. Yet Neil kept him at arm's length.
No matter what anyone said, he couldn't shake the thought that Kyle's death was his fault. Had he not cared for him, maybe the being would have left him and killed Neil instead. Silent tears fell down his face, and he let them.
He always heard people say, "Time heals." But for him, it only deepened the wound in his heart—a wound that refused to close. A wound so deep it reached the depths of his soul. The image of his little brother lying there lifeless still haunted him.
Chains of grief held him in place. He lived wishing to fall in battle against the Fallen and die there, yet reality denied him that solace.
The whole world thought he was dead—his parents included—which, in a strange way, was comforting. He couldn't bear to see his mother in pain because of him. It was better this way.
Although he thirsted for revenge, he was a rational man. He knew that achieving the power needed to fight that thing was nearly impossible within a human lifespan. So his best option was to die in battle. Suicide was a coward's way out, and it would dishonor Kyle's memory.
[Integrity: 72%]
ESSENCE BALANCE: RED 68 : BLUE 32
[System Notice: Host needs to calm down.]
The unsettling whisper from the Framework brought him out of his chaotic thoughts. He looked at the time and got up—it was almost time for their briefing.
They had refused to let him meet the man named Rowan. Old Man Marcus said the man was too much of a threat, and without understanding his intentions, they couldn't allow it.
But yesterday, a Deadman had been picked up in Jakob—a city in the far east of Warhold, close to one of their ports. Apparently, the Deadman was part of a two-man team sent to track and monitor Rowan's actions. Yet only one came back, appearing lifeless.
They quickly took him in for interrogation and screening. The results were to be announced at today's briefing. He put on a pair of sandals, picked up his walking stick, and was about to leave when he ran into Sister Elowen. She had her hand raised as if she had been about to knock but hesitated.
"Sister?" he said, closing the door behind him.
"Uh—yes, let's go," she replied, not daring to meet his eyes. She walked ahead, and Neil followed closely after, shrugging at her unusual behavior.
The walk to the Underworld was surprisingly quiet, which suited Neil just fine, though he found himself glancing at the Sister.
"Are you okay, Sister?" His words seemed to pull her out of her thoughts.
She nodded and said nothing, entering the Underworld with a distant expression.