Darkness isn't simply the absence of light. To Lucian, darkness was a pulsing void — a yawning chasm inside his soul, where his mother's laughter once echoed. Now, he drifted in it, cold and weightless, reaching for something he could no longer remember the shape of. Her face was blurred. Her voice, gone.
"Behold the beauty in ruin," whispered Gem, the Echo from the Infernal Abyss. Her voice slid across his mind like silk dragged over shattered glass. "A blank canvas upon which true power can be painted. Your soul is pure now — unsullied by the mortal weakness they call love."
Lucian didn't respond. He simply let the void gnaw at him from within, a pain deeper than any wound ever etched into his flesh.
The first sensation that returned was smell — sharp herbs and damp earth, cutting through the fog in his mind. Then came the dull ache in his shoulder, now bandaged with rough cloth. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was made of rotting wood patched with rusted metal sheets.
He was no longer in the blood-soaked alley. He lay on a simple cot in a dim, cramped room.
"You're awake. Try not to move too much — the stitches might tear," a familiar female voice broke the silence.
Elara sat in a creaky wooden chair in the corner, grinding herbs in a stone bowl. Her face was tired, but her eyes remained sharp, alert.
Lucian tried to sit up, his body howling in protest. Every muscle screamed. He stared at his own hands — hands that had taken lives, hands that now felt foreign.
"Where am I? Why did you bring me here?" he hissed, his voice dry and laced with venom. He didn't want help. He didn't deserve it.
"You're in the safest place in the Lower District," said a second voice — old, brittle, like dry leaves crushed underfoot.
The Elder, the man who had stopped Kael, stood at the doorway, leaning on his wooden staff. His sharp eyes studied Lucian, weighing the wreckage of his soul. He stepped inside, silence wrapping around him like a cloak.
"Safety is an illusion for those being hunted," Lucian replied, eyes narrowing. "Tell me what you want, Elder. I don't believe in kindness without cost."
The Elder smiled thinly, a smile that never touched his eyes. "You're right. In this Dome, kindness is the rarest currency. Think of this as... an investment."
"I've got nothing left to invest," Lucian spat. "The Aurelius Clan disowned me. My power's broken. I'm just garbage waiting to be crushed."
"He underestimates us," Gem purred in his head. "Show him a glimpse of Abyssal fire. Let him taste true fear, so he knows who holds the reins here."
"Shut up," Lucian muttered under his breath.
Elara looked at him, concern deepening in her eyes. "Who... are you talking to?"
The Elder raised an eyebrow, as if he already knew. "You may have nothing," he said slowly, "but you are something. You're a ticking bomb the Aurelius family left at their enemy's doorstep."
He stepped closer, his staff tapping softly against the hard-packed floor. "Word of the Sector Seven massacre is spreading like wildfire. Valerius believes it was a rival clan's attack. They have no idea it was the work of a single man."
A storm of conflict swirled in Lucian's chest. He should've felt satisfaction from striking back at Valerius. Instead, all he felt was nausea. The victory was hollow — the cost, too dear.
"They've unleashed their bloodhounds across the Lower District. But they won't dare step into my territory," the Elder said, his voice heavy with absolute authority. "Here, I am the law."
"And what makes you think I'll bow to your law?" Lucian snapped, a flicker of defiance in his dead eyes. "I'm no one's lapdog."
Elara stood abruptly, placing her bowl aside. "Elder, he's just been through hell. Give him time to recover before you start dragging him into politics."
"Foolish girl," the Elder growled, his gaze sharp enough to pierce. "Time is a luxury fugitives don't have. Every breath he takes under my protection has a price."
Then he turned his eyes back to Lucian, his tone lowering. "I knew your mother, Lyra. She wasn't just some noblewoman from the Aurelius line. She had that same fire in her that I see in you — fire that refused to die."
The mention of her name hit Lucian like a blade of ice. The emptiness inside him throbbed with pain. His hands clenched until his knuckles turned white.
"Don't say her name," he growled, each word like a frozen dagger. "You have no right to let that filth pass your lips."
The Elder didn't flinch. He simply smiled again. "I didn't just know her. I helped her escape from the Upper Dome years ago... before she was forced back into her golden cage."
Lucian's world stopped spinning. A twist he had never seen coming. His mother... escaped? What other lies had he been fed his whole life?
"Interesting," murmured Gem. "That explains the anomaly in your bloodline. Wild fire shouldn't exist in the pure veins of Aurelius. Use this. Ask more."
"What... are you talking about?" Lucian's voice cracked — the first crack in his wall. His armor began to crumble.
"She wanted freedom more than anything," the Elder said softly. "But the Aurelius Clan — especially your father — dragged her back. They broke her wings and locked her in a gilded cage, all for image and alliance."
The truth hit Lucian like a storm. Everything he knew about his family, about honor and legacy — it was all a lie built on his mother's suffering. His hatred for Valerius suddenly felt small compared to this betrayal.
"I will protect you, Lucian Aurelius," the Elder said, voice firm once more. "I'll give you the time to heal. I'll give you the resources to become stronger than you ever imagined."
Lucian stared at him, searching for the trap. "And in return?"
The Elder leaned in, their faces inches apart, his ancient eyes gleaming with raw, untamed ambition.
"In return, you'll be my fang. The weapon I'll use to tear the throats from the Great Houses that have gorged themselves on our misery for decades."
The offer hung in the air — poisonous and tempting. It wasn't protection. It was slavery in disguise. Another game. Another master.
"Accept it," hissed Gem. "It's your quickest path to vengeance. Use him. Drain him. Then crush him when you no longer need him. That's how the world works."
Lucian felt the war waging inside him. Cold logic urged him toward revenge. But buried deep was a flicker of something else — the last ember of humanity, refusing to be snuffed out.
Elara's voice cut through the silence. "Elder, you can't ask him to do this. He's not a monster — he's a victim."
"In this world," the Elder said without turning, "a victim who won't become a monster will always end up prey. The choice is his."
Lucian laughed — dry and hollow, the laugh of a man who had nothing left to lose. He pushed himself upright, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder. His eyes locked onto the Elder's with burning intensity.
"I won't be your fang," he said quietly, yet with terrifying weight. "I'll be your blade. You can point me — but never think you can wield me."
A tense silence fell. Elara held her breath. The Elder's eyes widened for a moment — then a crooked smile tugged at his lips.
"A compelling arrangement," he said.
Lucian continued, his voice now cold as death. "Point me to House Valerius. Show me every person who played a part in my betrayal. I'll paint the Lower District red for you."
A twisted grin spread across his pale face. "And when that's done... I'm coming for the Aurelius Clan. I'll bring down that house of lies — brick by brick."
As he spoke the words, a shimmer flickered before his eyes — the system's interface blinking to life. But not red. Not yellow. This was something else. A deep blue notification he'd never seen before.
[Fatebound Triggered: Path of the Avenger]
[New Quest Received: The Serpent's First Fang]
[Objective: Destroy the Valerius Outpost in Sector Nine.]
[Warning: Accepting this path will permanently alter your destiny. There is no return. Are you sure?]
Lucian stared at the message, then back into the Elder's hopeful eyes. He had lost his past. Now, his future was offered to him like a blood pact.
And in hell, the only way out... was deeper in.