The Fallen One

"So, what did you guys talk about?" Sia asked casually as she scooped a bite of her food. Lucius glanced up but didn't respond immediately, focused on his meal. He knew better than to talk with his mouth full—Sia absolutely despised it. She had made that clear on several occasions. He figured she was just asking to fill the silence, not expecting an actual answer.

A few moments passed, and Sia raised an eyebrow at his lack of response. "Lucius." He looked up, chewing a little faster, swallowing before speaking.

"You don't like people talking while eating," he pointed out. "I don't like it when they talk while chewing," she corrected, setting her spoon down. "It makes their words sound disgusting. If you're done, speak." She gestured at him with two fingers, giving permission.

Lucius wiped his mouth with the napkin, then placed his fork neatly beside his plate. "Nothing important, really. Just about the mission in general. I did try to ask more about mana beasts, but I didn't get much of an explanation." He exhaled, a little disappointed as he leaned back in his chair.

Sia hummed in response, tapping her fingers lightly on the table. A shadow passed over her face, her usual sharp expression darkening.

Lucius noticed. 'She already knows what I was really asking about…'

"You still asked about the corrupted beasts, didn't you?" she stated, her voice lacking its usual playfulness. Lucius held her gaze. He could've lied, twisted his words to make it sound like he wasn't digging too deep. But he didn't. That wasn't him. "What's the point of hiding?" he said simply. "I didn't get any real answers anyway. And I don't like lying to you." Sia's fingers stopped tapping. She blinked, slightly taken aback by the honesty. Then, after a moment, a small smile tugged at her lips.

"Hah. He's a terrible storyteller, isn't he?" she asked, her tone lighter now. "And a much worse explainer," Lucius added immediately.

That made Sia chuckle.

She had known from the start that Lucius wouldn't just let this go. He was sharp and stubborn. It wasn't just curiosity—it was the way his mind worked. He analysed, pieced things together, and refused to ignore gaps in knowledge. If she didn't step in, he'd uncover the truth on his own, bit by bit, whether she wanted him to or not.

And that would only distract him from what truly mattered—his training. He was already behind compared to other students his age. She had to make a decision before he wasted too much time chasing mysteries that wouldn't help him survive.

"Alright," she said finally, pushing her chair back. "Wash the dishes, then meet me in the living room. We're having an important conversation."

Lucius blinked in surprise but quickly nodded. He gathered the plates, careful not to clatter them, and carried them to the sink.

Sia leaned back slightly, watching him move. Having someone to talk to, to observe, to admire… It's not such a bad feeling. Her fingers grazed the rim of her cup, her thoughts lingering for just a moment longer.

'Maybe… I need him more than he'll ever need me.' She closed her eyes briefly, then exhaled and stood up. it was time to tell him the truth.

***

Sia gestured for Lucius to sit beside her. Without hesitation, he moved closer, leaving no space between them, his tiny hands latching onto her arm as he rested his head against her sturdy biceps. "The food was amazing, you know. Thank you," he shared.

Sia exhaled softly, her lips twitching into a rare, fond smile. She ruffled his hair for a solid minute, her fingers brushing through the strands with slow, deliberate motions. Lucius leaned into the warmth, tightening his grip around her arm. A light kiss landed on the top of his head, and he stilled for a moment before relaxing further, feeling the quiet comfort her presence provided.

Then, her tone shifted.

"The corrupted beasts are unnatural anomalies among mana beasts," she began, her voice taking on a serious weight. "Each mana beast species has a purpose—survival, reproduction, ensuring their lineage continues. But the corrupted ones…" She paused. "They don't follow this fundamental law."

"They attack their own kind for no reason. They enjoy torturing their victims, slaughtering them for pleasure. Normal mana beasts only hunt for three purposes: to grow stronger, to feed, or to protect themselves and their kin. But the corrupted? They do none of these things. They don't eat their prey, they don't absorb mana cores for growth, and they cannot reproduce—yet their numbers keep increasing. They're a danger not just to adventurers but to the very ecosystem they exist in."

Lucius blinked, his mind already working through the contradiction. "That doesn't make sense. If they can't reproduce, how are there more of them?" Sia let out a slow breath, shaking her head.

"That's the biggest mystery. Even Verdun's top officials have no answers. There are theories, but nothing concrete. And the worst part? These corrupted creatures seem to be triggering unnatural growth in regular mana beasts as well."

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Like the Ghost Bear?"

Sia nodded. "You remember it, right? The one I killed?"

Lucius crossed his arms, his tone turning a little smug. "You mean the massive beast you slaughtered single-handedly? Yeah, of course I remember." Sia rolled her eyes at his pride on her behalf but smirked nonetheless.

"That Ghost Bear displayed an ability no one has ever recorded before—the ability to distort perception. Ghost Bears are infamous for two things: their stealth and their kill-or-be-killed mentality. Never once has any adventurer mentioned them using an ability like that."

Lucius' expression hardened. "Then there was the Sentrox—the one we thought was a Wendigo."

Sia nodded. "It used Partial Sacrifice—a technique that allows a beast to spare its life while dealing maximum damage at close range. That level of ability is something only high-ranked mana beasts should be capable of using. But that Sentrox? It was only a B+ ranked creature."

Lucius tilted his head. "Wait. I thought it was a Wendigo?"

Sia exhaled, rubbing her temple.

"No. That thing was a Sentrox. People mistook them for Wendigos for over a century because the real Wendigos were thought to be extinct. But that's no longer the case."

Lucius fell silent, the weight of her words settling in. A moment later, his curiosity flared again. "By the way, what's with the + and - rankings? I hear you use them a lot." Sia blinked, then sighed, straightening her posture before explaining.

"Let's say you're a B-rank adventurer. You've been one for years, and you're right on the verge of reaching A-rank. That would make you a B+ adventurer. It's a way to measure the gradual increase of strength within a rank. Just because two people hold the same rank doesn't mean they're equally strong—some are at the peak of their tier, while others are just getting started."

Lucius nodded in understanding. "How do people figure out those sub-ranks? I doubt anyone just walks around telling people how strong they are."

"Mana signature," Sia replied. "Its intensity and the weight of presence it carries."

Lucius stilled, the answer slotting neatly into place in his mind. That's why people always try to sense my mana first before treating me like trash… Your mana is your first impression, not the words you speak. Sia watched his face shift, noting the realisation settle in.

"Regardless," she continued, "the problem is clear. These corrupted beasts are forcing regular mana beasts to evolve. Their numbers are growing, and so is their strength. If this continues unchecked…" She let the words hang, letting Lucius piece together the inevitable conclusion.

"The empire will be at risk," he murmured. Sia leaned back, her crimson eyes dark and unreadable. "Exactly."

Lucius exhaled sharply, gripping the fabric of his pants. He wasn't sure what scared him more—the fact that the corrupted beasts seemed to have no origin, or the reality that they were forcing the world around them to grow stronger, evolving in ways no one could predict.

A long silence stretched between them.

Sia eventually broke it.

"The key is information," she said. "We need to learn how these creatures are appearing, where they're coming from, and why they're affecting other mana beasts. Until we find those answers, there's only one thing we can do."

Lucius lifted his gaze, awaiting her answer. Her eyes gleamed with sharp resolve. "We hunt. We kill our prey."

***

"Tomorrow, be ready by noon—we're visiting the orphanage." Lucius, comfortably resting his head on Sia's lap, shot upright. His eyes widened, brows twitching with disbelief. "You're joking," he muttered, folding his arms tightly.

"I'm not," Sia replied, a soft chuckle escaping as she watched his reaction spiral from confusion to mild panic. "My friends and I donate food, clothes, and funds every now and then. The woman running the place takes care of nearly a dozen children all by herself. To them, she's more than a caretaker—she's their mother." Lucius stared at her, slowly piecing together this new side of her life that he'd never seen.

"Don't worry," she added, ruffling his hair before he could speak again. "It'll be good for you. You need a change of environment." He mumbled something under his breath, not entirely convinced. But as the night wore on and they both drifted to sleep, the thought of the orphanage lingered in his mind, unwelcome, but stubborn. The next morning, Lucius woke around nine, three hours earlier than necessary. Not for training. Not to study. But because of that smell.

A warm, rich sweetness hung in the air, too powerful to ignore. Drawn like a moth to flame, he wandered into the kitchen to find Sia shaping small round sweets at the counter, her sleeves rolled up as she worked with care and precision.

"What is that?" he asked, voice a little too eager. "A simple sweet made from cashews and milk," she said, not sparing him a glance. Lucius reached for one without hesitation. Sia slapped his hand away without even turning.

"You'll eat them with the other kids. No exceptions." Lucius scowled, grumbling as he stalked out the front door, still smelling the sweets on his fingers.

Outside, he was dressed in old, worn clothes—a thin tunic and loose pants, neither new nor clean. At first, he didn't think much of it. But as he passed a few locals, their stares grew harder to ignore. Some looked away quickly. Others gave subtle, almost pitying glances.

He frowned, 'I should've changed first…' Just as he turned to go back inside, something caught his attention—a man walking a small dog, still young, its leash taut with excitement. The black-and-white puppy barked joyfully at everything it saw, tugging at its leash like the world itself was calling to it.

Then, with a swift jerk, the leash snapped. Before the owner could react, the pup darted forward, charging a small flock of birds pecking at crumbs by the roadside. It moved with raw, untrained instinct—silent, eager, lethal. The moment it reached them, it lunged.

Lucius watched, frozen, as the puppy clamped its jaws around one of the birds. It thrashed violently, tiny teeth tearing in, neck muscles flexing as it shook the creature like a toy.

The bird fought, wings flapping helplessly. The puppy didn't stop. It wasn't hunting for food. It wasn't trying to survive. It was just… doing what it was wired to do.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

By the time the owner ran over and yanked the bird from its jaws—too late—it was already over. One wing twisted at an unnatural angle, its feathers broken and slicked with blood. The bird tried to hop, then collapsed.

It died within minutes. The man, now annoyed and distracted by something else, gave the puppy a quick slap and walked away—no apology, no concern. Lucius stood still, watching the lifeless bird disappear from view.

'…Was that normal?' He'd seen pets chase things before. But this wasn't playful. There had been no hesitation. No understanding. Just raw instinct and the excitement of being free for the first time.

And suddenly, it clicked. What if… that Wendigo near the southern border was doing the same?

It hadn't acted like a predator in familiar territory. It hadn't marked a hunting ground or sought out specific targets. It had simply rampaged—slaughtering adventurers, destroying anything it crossed, and then vanishing without purpose.

It wasn't hunting. It was an experience.

Like that dog, unleashed for the first time. Lucius's pulse quickened as the realisation sank deeper. If corrupted beasts couldn't reproduce, then someone was making them. That Wendigo wasn't born. It was released. And if someone could create something that powerful… and let it loose like that… Then this wasn't just about random beast attacks anymore. This was about intent.

'I need to tell Sia.' He turned back toward the house, his thoughts tangled in shadows and questions. Two hours still remained before they had to leave. He could use that time to read—something he hated, but suddenly felt necessary.

Even if he despised theory, knowledge meant leverage. Preparation.

And right now, he needed both to move forward... With that, Lucius stepped back inside, the scent of sweets still strong in the air, his mind already far, far away.

***

"Honestly, I expected it to be bigger…" Lucius muttered without much thought, standing before the orphanage gates. The building was plain—larger than Sia's house, sure—but it lacked the grandeur he'd imagined. A spacious yard circled the property, dotted with trees, a small pond to one side, and enough open space for children to run wild. It looked… functional. Simple. Nothing like the looming, fortress-like structure he had pictured in his head.

"Says the little one…" Rebecca muttered, not even sparing him a glance. Lucius narrowed his eyes, ready to snap back, but Sia calmly rested a hand on his shoulder. A subtle warning. He clicked his tongue, looked away, but didn't argue—though his glare lingered on Rebecca, who seemed completely unfazed.

They stood gathered at the entrance—Sia, Rebecca, Vice-Captain Mercy, and Lucius himself—each holding something. Lucius kept glancing toward the small box of sweets in Sia's hands. His fingers twitched at the idea of swiping one when no one was looking.

Before he could make a move, the door creaked open. An elderly woman stepped out to greet them, her smile warm and practised. She looked to be in her sixties. Her posture bore the weight of years, and deep lines marked her face—but there was still a certain sharpness in her expression, the kind that made Lucius pause. She wore a plain grey gown, comfortable slippers, nothing grand.

"Good afternoon, my children," she said gently. "Please, come in. This place is yours as much as it is mine." There was kindness in her voice. But the moment her eyes locked onto Lucius, something shifted. Lucius felt it—an unnatural stillness in the air, a cold current brushing past his spine. His body stiffened without reason.

'Something's wrong-'

The sensation vanished almost immediately, leaving only questions behind.

"All the children are outside," the woman continued, addressing the group. "Please, make yourselves at home—especially you, dear Rebecca."

Rebecca scoffed. "I am at home, Elder Ninia." Ninia only chuckled lightly in response. As the group stepped forward to hand her the gifts, she thanked them and insisted they give the items directly to the children. Mercy stepped forward.

"Elder Ninia, if I may—"

"Yes, yes… and maybe… no, my dear." Mercy gave a crisp nod. "Understood, my lady. No further questions."

Lucius blinked. "Wait… what just happened?" His question was met with silence. He looked at Sia, hoping she'd explain, but her face remained unreadable. No one seemed fazed by the cryptic exchange.

Then Ninia motioned toward the back. "You may all go outside."

Everyone obeyed—except Lucius. Sia hesitated, but Mercy gave her a slight nod before guiding her away. Rebecca followed behind, leaving Lucius alone with the old woman. He stood awkwardly, hands clasped behind him.

"Lucius, is it?" Ninia asked, walking over to a shaded chair beneath a tall tree. She sat down with ease, her joints cracking faintly as she settled in. "A fine name."

Lucius stiffened. "I'm not your child, ma'am." Ninia laughed—a light, raspy chuckle that ended in a cough. Lucius, still frowning, pulled a small bottle of water from his pocket and handed it to her without a word. She accepted it with a nod, took a sip, and smiled.

"Tell me, child… do you know what your name means?" Lucius tilted his head, unimpressed. "I don't know... and frankly? I don't care."

Ninia ignored the reply. Her eyes remained fixed on the boy. "Your name means the first light. Like the sun that breaks through after the longest night."

Lucius blinked as he had never given his name much thought. It was just a name. But hearing it framed like that… it almost felt important. The key word here being, 'Almost.' Then, her tone shifted, but unlike your name," she said, quieter now, "your fate is covered in shadows. Deeper than anything I've seen in years."

His breath hitched as the warmth vanished. Her voice, though soft, carried a certainty that made his skin crawl. It wasn't a prediction. It was the truth. Something in him stirred, panic rising in his chest. He took a step back, then another...

"Where do you think you're going, boy?" Lucius flinched as another voice cut in from behind. Sir Edward stood in the doorway, clad in his usual armour, arms crossed as he watched with an unreadable expression. Ninia gave a soft smile. "Sir Edward, please take this child to the others. The knights are waiting."

Without waiting for a response, Edward moved forward and took Lucius by the arm, firmly, but not harshly. He turned him around, guiding him back toward the others. Lucius didn't resist, but he couldn't help glancing back. Just before they turned the corner, he saw her lips move.

"Return when you're ready, my little one." His blood turned cold. 'That's what Sia calls me.' He clenched his fists, forcing himself to look forward. He didn't want to ask. Didn't want to understand what she meant. All he knew—what he felt deep in his gut—was that he never wanted to be in the same room as that woman again.

***

"Lucius! Where were you?!" Sia's voice snapped through the air like a whip the moment she caught sight of him beside Edward. Lucius blinked, caught off guard. 'What's her problem? I was only gone for, what, ten minutes?'

But as he turned his head slightly and caught sight of the sky, his thoughts froze. The sun was gone. The bright skies had darkened into deep hues of violet and navy, the last streaks of sunlight clinging stubbornly to the edges of the horizon. Long shadows stretched across the stone walls and cracked roads. The air had cooled, and the breeze carried the scent of approaching night.

His chest tightened.

That wasn't possible. He'd only spoken to Elder Ninia for a few minutes. Ten, maybe twelve. So why did it feel like an entire evening had passed? Before he could process the discrepancy, Edward spoke, casually, almost too smoothly.

"Lady Sia, he was occupied with me. Right, Lucius?" Lucius glanced at him. There was no pressure in his tone, but there was something behind those words—a subtle instruction. A cue. Lucius gave a slow nod. "Yeah. We were just walking and talking." He wasn't lying. But something was off.

Edward stood just a little taller than Sia, shorter than Mercy, but what caught Lucius's attention was the air around him—mature, calm, experienced. His beard was neatly trimmed, hair jet-black and styled back. He looked too composed, too aware. He didn't give off the aura of a warrior or a scholar, yet somehow… he was more intimidating than both.

Lucius didn't get time to dwell on it. His eyes caught two unfamiliar figures standing between Mercy and Rebecca. A boy, around his age, maybe a year older. Tall and lean, with long golden hair cascading past his shoulders. His eyes were unnerving—one a pitch-black void, the other a strange swirl of blue and black that looked alive.

Beside him stood a girl, simple and soft in appearance. Pale white hair fell to her waist, and sky-blue eyes peeked up shyly from beneath her lashes. Her posture was reserved, her hands tightly clasped together.

'White hair?' Lucius narrowed his eyes. 'Northern bloodline…?'

Almost as if sensing his curiosity, Edward gave him a light nudge on the back, guiding him forward without a word. Sia sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I'm just glad he was with you," she said under her breath, exasperated. "I wouldn't trust him with anyone else. Especially not with a Lord of Experts, of all people."

What? The words hit him like a punch. He slowly turned his head toward her, eyes wide. A Lord of Experts? That old hag…?

Before he could say anything, Sia was suddenly in front of him, checking his arms, brushing his hair aside, touching his cheek.

"Gods, woman—" Lucius flinched.

"Enough, Sia." Mercy interrupted, chuckling as he pulled her gently away. "Let the boy breathe." Lucius slipped away, grateful. He moved toward Mercy's side and muttered, "Thanks. I owe you one." Mercy gave a simple wink, then turned toward the two new kids.

"Lucius, meet Lavya and Sara," he said. "Lavya's a year older than you. Sara's just a few months younger than Lav." Lucius gave a short nod, eyes flicking between them. Lavya stood with a slight tilt to his chin, arms crossed. His stance was relaxed but cocky, his silence intentional. He didn't look interested in starting a conversation. Sara, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to disappear. Her hands remained locked in front of her as she shifted her gaze between them, curious, but unsure.

The air between the three of them grew still. Lucius had never cared much for small talk, and neither of them seemed inclined to start anything either. They were expected to get along, which none of them wanted to.

***

An hour later, visiting hours came to an end. The knights parted ways, bidding their farewells as they dispersed into the fading light. On their way out, Sia mentioned she needed to stop by Market Road to pick up a few ingredients for dinner. Lucius, still physically and mentally drained from the day's events, had no desire to follow her through the crowd and noise of the market.

Edward caught on immediately and offered, "I'll drop him off."

Sia nodded without hesitation. A quiet exchange passed between them—brief but steeped in mutual trust—one that Lucius didn't overlook. He noted it silently, deciding he didn't mind being left alone with Edward, not after what had happened with Elder Ninia.

Mercy and Rebecca left first, returning to their respective duties. Sia assured Lucius she'd be back within an hour. And just like that, Lucius and Edward were the only ones left, walking side by side through the quiet evening. A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by their footsteps. Then Edward spoke.

"You're weak and insignificant… yet interesting." Lucius nearly stumbled. He shot Edward a sharp glance. "And you're weird," he muttered, trying to keep the tone respectful. Edward smirked. "No, no. I'm not trying to insult you. I mean, come on, you're already an insult."

Lucius clenched his jaw. 'What was this guy's problem?!'

"But," Edward continued, his grin fading into something more thoughtful, "not just Sia, even Elder Ninia took an interest in you. That's something worth noting."

Lucius blinked, confused. "Elder Ninia?"

Edward looked at him from the corner of his eye. "You don't know, do you? She was once a Lord of Experts—one of the highest authorities among Verdun's inner circles. Mysterious abilities, immense respect. Some admired her, others feared her. Then, about a decade ago, she just… retired. Claimed her ability was gone. Started calling herself just an old woman with a sore back."

He chuckled faintly, but his eyes remained focused. "Since then, she's trained some of the strongest people in the city. Vice-Captain Mercy, Lady Jhansi… a few others too. But she never cared for any of them. Not really. It was all just part of a job—something she did because she had to."

Edward's gaze narrowed slightly. "Then you showed up."

Lucius stiffened, unsure how to respond. "To think… someone like you held her attention for hours." Lucius felt a chill run down his spine. "Wait—hours?" His breath caught. All he remembered was a short conversation, a few words exchanged before the world faded to black again.

Edward nodded slowly. Lucius's fists clenched unconsciously. He had no memory of that. Not a single moment beyond what he could recall. The unease settled deep in his chest. Edward studied his reaction with mild interest. "Whatever it is, you clearly don't want to talk about it. I can respect that." Then, with a casual shrug, he changed the subject. "So, what now? What's the plan? Joining the knights? Signing up for an academy? Running off to become an adventurer?"

Lucius paused. The answer had already been decided in his mind. Edward nodded knowingly. "Ah. Adventurer, then. Makes sense. Your mentor was one too, wasn't she?" He questioned specifically, even though Sia was a knight as well, for the longest duration of her lifetime...

The rest of their walk continued in silence. Lucius's thoughts swirled, caught somewhere between everything Edward had said and everything he hadn't. When they reached the entrance to his home, something shifted. The air grew dense—heavy. Lucius felt it instantly. His instincts flared as his body tensed, a wave of pressure crashing into him like a storm. He stumbled back a few steps, every nerve screaming.

Then, just as quickly, it stopped. Edward reined his aura back in with a quiet breath. "...Oh. My sincere apologies, little one." He smiled faintly, though something unreadable glinted in his eyes. "You're special, I'm afraid."

Lucius took a breath, his chest tight. "Special? In what sense? Look at me—I have no class, no elemental affinity, and my mana core is…" He stopped himself. "Well. You already know."

Edward gave a quiet laugh. "And yet, you are. I don't know why. But I know it. My assessments are never wrong, Lucius." Lucius met his gaze, searching for answers he didn't expect to find—and didn't.

Edward exhaled and stepped away. "It's been a long day. Especially for you." His tone dropped. "Rest. Recover. And train like hell—every single day. As if your life depends on it."

"Because trust me," Edward added, "it just might."

With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing down the road with nothing more than a brief nod. Lucius stood there, still trying to piece it all together. He didn't understand what any of it meant. Not yet. But somewhere beneath the confusion, buried under the weight of uncertainty, was a sliver of satisfaction.

Someone like Edward thought highly of him. Lucius smirked to himself. 'Fine. I'll train like hell.'

***

The candlelight flickered gently, casting long shadows across the dimly lit room. Elder Ninia sat comfortably in her chair, a thick book resting open on her lap. Her eyes glided over the pages, though her senses had already picked up the presence lingering near the edge of her chamber.

"Lord Edward Greenwich," she said calmly, her voice casual, almost amused. "I certainly did not expect you to show up this late, unannounced—and with that kind of aura." She turned a page without looking up. "Do you not fear a slow, painful death, my dear?"

Edward stood at the foot of her bed, silent. His weapon hummed faintly at his side, wrapped in a volatile sheath of blue mana that sparked with quiet fury, like caged lightning barely held back by its wielder. He said nothing. He didn't move.

Ninia continued reading, undisturbed. "Hmm…" she murmured. "Who are you? You're not the child I once raised. The presence is familiar… yet foreign." Her fingers traced the worn edges of the page, her eyes still focused on the script as though she were reading for leisure.

And then, without a sound or warning, he vanished. Gone. As if he had never been there in the first place. The room fell back into silence. Ninia exhaled softly, lowering her gaze to the thin red line now marking her cheek. A single droplet of blood slid downward, trailing toward the corner of her lips. She caught it with the tip of her finger, inspected it briefly, and smiled.

A message had been delivered. One meant only for her.