Rain ticked against rusted metal, whispering over broken windows and forgotten chains. Scarne stood still, watching the streetlights blur through cracked glass.
His mask covered half his face—charred metal fused with a military respirator. His coat was fireproof, lined with tools he'd built himself. Around him, barrels of fuel. Chains. Traps. Enough to start a war.
He checked his watch.
"He'll come," he muttered. "They always come to bury what they regret."
—
Lucen crouched on a nearby rooftop, motionless under the rain. His hood was soaked. Breath steady. Eyes locked on the warehouse across the street.
Aria's voice came softly through his earpiece.
"This guy's different, Lu. He's precise. Focused. He's watching."
"It's not me he wants," Lucen said quietly. "It's the ghost I used to be."
"Then make sure he meets the man you are now."
Lucen didn't answer. He just moved—smooth and silent—slipping into the dark.
—
Inside the warehouse, the lights flickered.
Lucen stepped carefully between shadows, boots barely making a sound. His senses were sharp. Focused.
Then came the sound of steel slamming down behind him. A metal shutter sealed the entrance.
He didn't flinch.
Scarne stepped out from behind a fuel drum, holding a detonator in one hand.
"Finally," he said. "The Devil arrives in flesh."
"I didn't come to fight," Lucen replied.
"But you came dressed for war."
Lucen took a breath.
"What happened to your family… it wasn't supposed to happen."
Scarne's eyes darkened behind his mask.
"But it did. They burned. They screamed. You watched. I watched. The difference is—you kept breathing."
He pressed a switch.
A ring of fire burst into life around them, climbing high, bathing the warehouse in orange light. The heat hit like a memory.
"Tonight," Scarne said, "I burn your second life."
Lucen didn't move. But the glow behind his eyes brightened. Just a little.
—
Scarne struck first.
He was fast. Brutal. Trained.
Lucen blocked the first blow, then ducked under the second. He wasn't fighting to win—he was trying not to hurt him.
"You think this brings them peace?!" Lucen shouted.
Scarne drove a punch into his ribs.
"Peace is a lie," he spat. "Vengeance is memory."
Lucen staggered back, hitting a steel beam. Before he could recover, Scarne raised a custom torch-launcher. Fire hissed out in a blinding burst, inches from Lucen's face.
"How does it feel, Devil boy?" Scarne growled. "To smell what you once were?"
—
Each hit dragged Lucen backward—into memory.
A woman's burned hands, shielding her baby.
The monks dragging his body from the flames.
Eshun's voice, soft and broken: "Your power chose you. But you choose who you become."
Lucen's eyes flickered. Not with rage. With guilt.
He caught Scarne's arm mid-punch. Held it.
"I'm not who I was," he said. "And I won't let you become what I used to be."
Scarne broke the grip with a savage headbutt.
"Then die like the liar you are!"
—
He slammed the detonator.
Half the warehouse ignited. An entire wall exploded outward.
Lucen turned just in time.
There were civilians in the corner. Bound. Unconscious.
He threw himself over them as the flames hit.
The blast roared. Metal screamed.
And then—silence.
Lucen rose from the debris, shielding the people beneath him. Scorched. Alive.
Smoke filled the air.
Scarne was gone.
—
Aria's voice crackled in his ear.
"Lucen?! Come in—what happened?!"
He stood still, staring into the fire.
"He's not a villain," Lucen said quietly. "He's a grave that learned how to walk."
Aria's voice came again. Soft now.
"So what are you gonna do?"
Lucen turned away from the blaze.
"I'm gonna follow the ashes," he said. "Until I find the boy inside the flame."
---
END OF CHAPTER 11
---
Next Chapter:-CHAPTER 12: ECHOES OF ASH ⚱️