The past never disappears. It merely waits, buried like bones beneath the earth—until someone digs them up.
Four months ago, Marcus understood this.
His quest to revive Zuphia continued. But now, in a ruin, the city didn't even have a name.
The city was dead.
Not by the passage of time, but by something far more violent. The houses were shattered, still smoldering. Broken statues, bodies half-buried in the mud, and the sky… the sky felt heavy, as if it were about to collapse.
Marcus walked cautiously through the rubble, sword in hand. There was nothing left here—only silence and the stench of dried blood.
Until he heard the crying.
Faint. Restrained.
He ran toward the sound, dodging broken beams and crumbling walls, until he reached a small, ruined sanctuary.
There, amidst fallen candles and dust, was a child. Dirty. Thin. Crying with arms wrapped around their knees.
"Hey…" Marcus said, kneeling nearby. "Are you hurt?"
The child looked at him with wide, dark amber eyes. There was a latent fury in them, but also pain—a pain far too old for someone so young.
"My name is Lorn."
Marcus approached more calmly.
"What happened here, Lorn? Are you alone?"
The boy hesitated, thought… thought. He swallowed hard and answered in a weak but firm voice, holding back tears:
"A figure attacked us. The elders called it a fragment… It came from the City of Silenced Souls. People tried to fight. My mother… was torn in half while running with me."
His voice grew heavier with each word. But as he clenched his fists, he continued.
"My father tried to fight that thing… He was burned from the inside."
He paused for a moment.
"My sister was taken… That thing didn't even say anything. She was six. Six years old. And I…"
He took a deep breath.
"And I ran."
There was a moment of silence. The kind of silence that carries guilt.
Marcus clenched his fists, his throat dry. He searched for words.
"The City of Souls… I lost someone there too."
He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"I'll help you find her."
Lorn said nothing, but his eyes gleamed with something akin to hope.
Marcus helped the boy stand and said, "I'll protect you until we find your sister."
His smile was enough to calm anyone. Confident. Steady. Everything the boy needed in that moment.
But there was no time for more.
A roar erupted from the wreckage.
A lesser demon, deformed and swift, lunged from the shadows like a starving beast. Marcus tried to react, but it was too fast—its claw pierced the boy's chest before any spell or strike could be made.
"LORN!" Marcus shouted, driving his sword through the monster.
The demon screamed and died.
But it was too late.
The boy bled out in Marcus's arms, eyes wide, body trembling. The sound of his weakening breath was deafening.
"I'm… sorry…" Marcus said, his eyes burning. "I… I…"
The words wouldn't come. He'd known the boy for ten minutes, but it weighed heavily on his mind.
Lorn tried to smile. His lips seemed to form words.
"Ay… lin," a faint, broken whisper, barely audible. His eyes faded before he could finish.
Hours later.
Under the pale moonlight, Marcus dug with his bare hands.
The grimoire lay open beside him, its pages blackened by an energy not of this world.
He had found the spell by chance, during an expedition to the city of Entien. Dark magic was forbidden. But desperation overrides rules.
Marcus recited the words, feeling his own soul waver with the cost. Reviving someone—that's what the magic promised.
The runes glowed around Lorn's body.
But he didn't wake.
He didn't move.
Nothing.
Minutes passed.
Marcus closed his eyes, bowed his head.
And then he buried him.
He left Lorn's dagger stabbed into the earth, a memorial.
And he left, believing he had failed.
But he was wrong.
Minutes later, the ground trembled.
The earth cracked slowly.
And then something broke through the soil. It didn't shatter or explode—it simply passed through, as if the ground were water.
Followed by a muffled, distorted scream.
Lorn emerged—eyes still amber, but empty, burning from within. His body writhed as if rejecting its own flesh. Bones cracked, muscles tore, and his soul, corrupted, rewrote itself.
He was back.
But he was no longer human.
He was something born of guilt, of loss… and of a broken promise.
---
Present.
The sky was heavy, but there were no lightning bolts. Only an oppressive silence hung over the outskirts of the capital's main gate.
And then he appeared.
No explosion. No sound. Just a subtle distortion in the air, and suddenly, he passed through the gate as if it were made of vapor—as if the barriers of reality didn't apply to him.
His body was tall, gaunt, covered in grotesque, living armor. His eyes glowed dark amber, like embers ready to devour everything.
When he saw Marcus, he stopped. And smiled.
A twisted, too-wide smile.
Kaellia narrowed her eyes, already drawing her spear. "We're up against a fragment. Evacuate the civilians. The rest of you… back me up."
The group scattered, veterans guiding citizens away. But before anyone could move further, Lorn spoke.
His voice was cold, but it coiled in everyone's gut like an icy serpent.
"Don't compare me to those pathetic worms that follow Mizuto."
His smile widened even more.
"I am the end of the world itself."
A chill ran down everyone's spine. Even the veterans hesitated.
Jin stepped forward.
His eyes didn't blink.
"We fight as always. Fragment or not." His hand rested on his sword's hilt. "Let's start the dance."
But he didn't have time to advance.
Lorn simply vanished.
And appeared beside Jin—without sound, without warning—with his sword already in motion.
CLANG!
Jin raised his blade on instinct, blocking the strike at the last second. The force dragged him three meters back. But it wasn't he who bled.
Saphira.
Lorn's blade had extended like a living claw, striking her from behind. Blood sprayed like a crimson flower in the air.
Lorn stepped back, laughing. A dry, unsettling laugh.
"You talk pretty, but you're weak."
Jin turned immediately and ran to Saphira, who lay trembling on the ground. Lyn was already there, kneeling beside her, hands glowing with healing energy.
"I… I don't want to die, Lyn…" Saphira said between sobs, her body shaking with pain and panic.
"You won't." Lyn said, pulling her into a protective embrace while urgently channeling healing energy.
Saphira kept crying.
"I wish I'd had—"
"Stop talking," Jin interrupted, kneeling beside her. "Save your strength."
There was something dark in his eyes now. Something buried.
Lino arrived soon after, kneeling carefully and holding Saphira against his chest. His eyes were wide, filled with a childish terror, and memories.
Slowly, Jin stood.
Kaellia, nearby, scanned the field. But her eyes landed on Marcus… who hadn't moved.
"Marcus looks off," she whispered to Allan.
Their leader stood frozen, eyes fixed on Lorn. His hands gripped his sword tightly, but his face… his face was pure shock.
Lorn turned slowly toward him.
"You brought me back…" he said, his tone mocking. "Saying you'd bring my little sister back… and now you stand there, so scared?"
He took two slow steps, like a predator.
"You haven't changed, Marcus. Four months? Still trapped. Still weak. Still… human."
And he laughed.
The dust still hung in the air, thick like a mist of blood.
Jin walked slowly to Marcus's side. His steps echoed heavily on the blackened ground. Beside him, Ziek appeared silently, eyes locked on the enemy. Eira followed close behind, her hand on her dagger, her shadow vibrating with tension.
Lino kept holding Saphira against his chest with desperate care. Lyn continued channeling healing, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Hold on, Saphira… hold on…"
Jin stopped beside Marcus and looked straight at him.
"We're not asking questions," he said firmly, his eyes cold as ice. "But you need to move."
For a second, silence.
And then Marcus smiled—a tired smile, but burning with fire.
"I'm still stronger than you, kid."
In the blink of an eye, both vanished.
The air shuddered with the displacement.
Jin and Marcus's swords sliced through the space where Lorn stood… but their blades passed right through him.
As if he were made of smoke.
Lorn appeared between them in an instant. His arms extended like black serpents, seizing both by the neck.
The world stopped.
Lorn lifted them like dolls, effortless.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at Jin.
"You smell… familiar."
He began to float, lifting them with him. The sky behind him darkened with every second, as if the world were holding its breath.
"I know…"
A smile tore across his face—terrifying, distorted, a mask of madness.
His aura exploded outward like an invisible roar.
A suffocating, crushing heat engulfed the area. Novice adventurers fell to their knees. Others trembled, pale. Even the veterans began to sweat coldly.
Allan swallowed hard, his hand trembling on his sword's grip.
"Kaellia… we need to help!"
But Kaellia, still as stone, replied in a tense whisper:
"He could kill them both any moment. We need an opening."
Lorn spun in the air as if dancing.
"Let's pay a little visit… to my dear sister."
And then, with a cruel whisper, his smile widened even further:
Kaellia took a step forward.
Ziek and Allan lunged on instinct. Something was wrong. But nothing was fast enough.
With a disturbing smile on his face, Lorn said:
"To hell."
The air imploded.
And the three vanished.