The Fallen One

Lucius and Sia engaged in a tradition common among adventurers following the loss of their comrades. They gathered the belongings of their deceased team members, including weapons, artifacts, and personal items. Lucius chose to stay close to June, whose remains were scattered at the scene, marked by the blood that surrounded them. Before departing, both Lucius and Sia took a moment to bow in gratitude, honoring the sacrifices made by their fallen friends.

Approximately one hour later, Sia found herself seated on a flat rock near the final cliff that divided the outer rim from the city. Lucius, having no other activities to engage in, leaned against Sia, the battleknight's armor offering a sense of comfort. Sia was lost in thought, reflecting on the day's events: the mission, the unexpected encounter with Lucius, and the tragic loss of her entire team due to the ghost bear. Now, in a moment of relative safety, she had the opportunity to contemplate her experiences. While she had many questions about Lucius and his background, she opted not to press him for details, allowing for a moment of peaceful silence between them instead. Lucius, too, held numerous questions but chose to respect the quiet companionship they shared.

***

Lucius didn't speak.

He stood beside Lady Sia in silence, giving her the space she needed to collect herself. Her breath was still uneven, her stance visibly strained. Though his own body bore no injuries, she had taken more damage than anyone should be able to endure. Deep gashes ran down her arms; parts of her armour were barely holding together. Yet, she stood.

Unbroken.

He glanced at her limbs—her dominant arm had taken the brunt of the punishment, but her off-hand seemed functional. That, at least, was something.

The silence between them lingered—awkward on the surface, but beneath it was something else. Mutual respect. A shared storm they had both survived. The scent of blood still clung to the air. The earth was torn and blackened, stained by fire, mana, and sacrifice. What they had lost still pressed heavily on them.

Lucius considered speaking. A part of him wanted to thank her.

"I'm glad I found you, Lady Sia."
But he didn't say it.

Instead, she broke the silence herself.

"Tell me, Lucius. You had a little exchange with Raga before he saved me, didn't you?"

Her voice was composed, but there was a quiet curiosity in it.

Lucius met her eyes and nodded. "A short one. But yes."

He remembered it vividly.

Raga had come hurtling toward him like a meteor after being struck by that monstrous blow. If Lucius had reacted even a heartbeat later, he would've been crushed beneath the man's massive frame. He had narrowly avoided being flattened, and right after that, he'd spoken to him. Just before Raga had found the strength to rise again, one last time.

Sia exhaled softly, her gaze drifting somewhere distant.

"His chest was torn open. The blast damaged his core," she said, her tone lower now. "You wouldn't know what that feels like. You don't have one."

Lucius nodded again, more slowly this time. She was right. A shattered mana core wasn't just painful—it was something that could kill even the most powerful knight in seconds. It wasn't an injury. It was a death sentence.

He remembered kneeling beside Raga's motionless form near the tree. The man's breathing had been shallow, his chest barely rising. Lucius had moved on instinct, trying to support his limp body, pressing him against the rough bark to keep him upright.

The damage had been terrifying. Four gaping holes in his chest. His armour was in ruins, torn away to reveal exposed flesh, broken bone, and worse, his mana core. It was… hollow. A jagged chunk had been blasted away as if someone had carved it out with a blade.

How was he still alive? That question still haunted Lucius.

Sia's voice brought him back.

"There were holes through his chest and core when he defended me," she said softly. "And yet… he stood again. He fought. He didn't even hesitate."

There was something in her tone now. Reverence. Maybe guilt. Lucius understood.

Raga had been a titan. Even in his final breaths, he hadn't fought out of pride or vengeance, but loyalty. Duty. Love. That kind of man deserved more than a death soaked in frost and blood.

But before he reentered the battle, Raga had turned to Lucius with a strange question.

"What are your dreams, kid?"

Lucius had hesitated.

He didn't know. At that point, he was barely conscious of his own place in the world. His memories were scattered, vague. His thoughts were still forming. But even with that uncertainty… he had wanted to give Raga an answer. Something worthy of a dying man.

And so, he had spoken quietly, but honestly.

"I want to be a strong, honourable man like you, Sir."

Even now, he wasn't entirely sure he believed those words. But he wanted to. More than anything, he wanted those words to become true.

Because of Raga.
Because of Lady Sia.
Because of June.

They had shaped the earliest moments of his life, defined what kind of person he might one day become. And whether they realised it or not, they had given him something no one else ever had.

A life, a chance, and a starting point.

He could still hear Raga's voice from that moment—weak, trembling, but firm.

"You're not sure yet," Raga had said. "I hear it in your tone. That's okay. It's normal not to know who you are right away. But remember this, Lucius: You have time. You have Sia to guide you. You don't need to have all the answers now."

"Just make sure you figure it out."

Those words stuck with him. Maybe forever.

Raga hadn't just inspired admiration—he'd lit a fire in Lucius's chest. A need to live up to something. To be worthy of the respect he had been shown by a dying legend.

Now, standing beside Lady Sia, Lucius looked down at his own hands.

Small. Still trembling.

But someday, maybe…

They'd be strong enough to carry a legacy like Raga's.

Despite the agony he must've been enduring, Raga forced himself to stand. His massive frame trembled, each breath ragged, each step unsteady. His sword was no longer a weapon—it was a crutch, the only thing keeping him upright. He looked like a giant who had been shattered, dragging the last shreds of strength from his ruined body.

Lucius had stepped forward instinctively, his hands half-raised to help. But Raga had simply shaken his head, gently refusing the gesture. There was something solemn in his refusal. Pride, maybe. Or duty.

Even in his final moments, he remained a warrior.

Lucius watched as Raga walked toward Lady Sia—slow, deliberate, every step carved out of pain and purpose. Something shifted inside the boy then. The weight of the moment was too much to stay silent. He clenched his fists, straightened his back, and lifted his voice, steady and clear.

"Sir Raga. One day, I'll become a strong and honourable man. I'll protect my family… and everyone around me. That is my resolve."

The man paused.

For a long second, Lucius wondered if he'd heard him. But then, slowly, Raga turned just enough to glance over his shoulder. His battered face twitched into the faintest smile—a small, quiet thing that held the warmth of something deeper.

"Is that a promise, Lucius?"

"Yes sir."

Those were the last words they ever exchanged.

A promise, sealed in fire and blood...

"Lucius," Lady Sia's voice cut through the quiet, sharper than before, "how much do you actually understand about mana?"

Lucius turned his gaze toward her. Her expression was unreadable—half curiosity, half something more intense. She leaned in slightly, studying him as if she were probing his soul for answers.

"Mana isn't just some magical force you manipulate," she continued. "It's the fabric of our world. It flows through the skies, the earth, the rivers, and the very breath in your lungs. Every mountain peak and ocean trench is saturated with it. Mana isn't around us. It is us."

Something flickered in Lucius's mind—a strange sense of familiarity. Her words felt like truth, but also… like something he should have already known.

"Please continue," he said softly. "I want to understand."

Sia nodded once, her voice steady as she continued.

"All life feeds off mana. From the weakest insect to the mightiest mana beast, everything that lives does so because mana flows through it. It is what sustains growth, survival, even birth and death itself. Without it, a creature cannot function, let alone live."

Lucius's brow furrowed as he tried to piece it together.

"So… mana is essential. Like water or air."

Sia gave him a sharp look.

"Is that what you believe?" she asked pointedly. "That it's like oxygen or hydration?"

He nodded, cautiously. "Isn't it?"

"In some ways, yes," she said. "But the difference lies in the consequences. We can survive minutes without oxygen, days without water. But without mana, the body begins to decay instantly. You collapse. You seize. Organs shut down. Your core burns out like a star devouring itself. And yet…"

She hesitated.

"Yet you're standing here. No core. No mana. Nothing."

Lucius froze.

The truth hit like a blade to the chest. He had no mana. Not a trace. But he hadn't truly considered the implications of that—not until now.

"That's impossible," he said under his breath.

Sia leaned back slightly, watching his reaction with something between awe and concern.

"Lucius, since the moment we met—nearly seven hours ago—I haven't felt a single ripple of mana from your body. Not even a dormant trace. Most non-mages have at least some minimal circulation. But you? You're a complete void. If you were anyone else, I would have assumed you died the moment your umbilical cord was cut."

Lucius felt the back of his neck tighten. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if he could summon an answer from the way they moved.

"But I'm fine," he whispered. "I'm alive."

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Sia's voice was gentler now. "You shouldn't be."

He couldn't respond. The silence said it all.

"Even mana beasts don't tolerate weakness," she said, shifting the subject slightly. "If one of their younglings is born without mana circulation, it's either cast out or killed on the spot. A defect like that would endanger their entire bloodline. Harsh, yes, but necessary."

Her gaze darkened.

"The empire isn't any kinder. Centuries ago, during the rule of the old monarchy, those without mana were seen as useless, worse than commoners. No place in the army. No rights. In some regions, they were barred from even marrying, let alone having children."

Lucius swallowed hard. "So… there are others like me?"

Sia shook her head. The air grew heavier with each passing second as Lucius felt his pulse hammering beneath his skin, but not from fear. From something deeper.

A question formed on his lips, but he didn't ask it.

Instead, he stood in silence, staring at the distant horizon, where blood still soaked the earth and stars flickered like distant fires.

He didn't know what he was. He didn't know why he was alive.

But one thing was certain—He was no ordinary boy...

"No, Lucius," Sia said firmly, though her voice held a thread of gentleness. "Even those humans, those once scorned by society, still possess the ability to circulate mana. They had cores, just like the rest of us." She paused, her expression shifting as something deeper began to stir within her.

Then, with a swift, practised motion, she conjured a spell.

A spear-shaped arc of mana materialised beside her—thin, graceful, radiant. It hovered in the air, spinning gently like a suspended blade of light. Soft particles of mana drifted from it, evaporating into the morning haze, fading one by one until the arc itself vanished. The image lingered in Lucius's mind, stark and beautiful—like a metaphor for something vital slipping through his fingers.

She gestured to where the arc had just disappeared.

"That is the mana arc," she explained. "One of the simplest manifestations of elemental energy. Even those deemed powerless can't cast that. Nor can they enhance their muscles, heighten their reflexes, or perceive mana in its purest form. These gifts—small as they may seem—shape one's strength, awareness… even extend their lifespan. Without mana, their lives remain brief, limited, mundane."

Lucius's chest tightened. The implications hit hard.

"Then… what does that mean for me?"

His thoughts raced. He had felt different off—but he had never imagined this. To live in a world sculpted by mana and yet be untouched by it… What did that make him? A mistake? A ghost? Was he forever bound to powerlessness?

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Panic clawed at him. The fear was overwhelming—worse than anything he'd felt even in the presence of that monstrous beast earlier. That encounter had been terrifying, yes, but there had been clarity: a threat, a saviour, a battle. This? This was uncertainty. An invisible war waged inside him, with no weapon to fight back.

And yet… a strange memory resurfaced.

That moment, when the Ghost Bear had approached. When he, a child with no training and no mana, had sensed its presence before Sia did. He remembered the chill in the air, the eerie silence, the primal certainty that danger was near. Even now, he could recall it with perfect clarity.

He looked up at her, hesitant. "Lady Sia… do you remember the moment that monster first revealed itself?"

Her eyes narrowed subtly. "Yes."

"I felt it first," he admitted. "Before you. I—I knew it was coming. Somehow."

Her gaze sharpened. "You're telling me… You sensed it before I did?"

There was tension in her voice—not disbelief, not anger—but something more complicated. As though she were being forced to reevaluate everything she knew. Lucius hesitated, then nodded.

"Yes."

To his surprise, she didn't raise her voice. No flash of fury. No harsh words. Instead, she just studied him.

Instead, she sighed.

"Lucius," she muttered, exasperated but not unkind, "you might be the first person in years who's actually exhausting to talk to. But also… intriguing."

He blinked, unsure whether to be flattered or insulted.

She stepped forward, the first rays of morning sun catching in her silver hair. "But fine. Let's get to work. There's much to understand—and it starts with this: what you have, Lucius, isn't a defect. If anything… it may be an ability. One this world has never seen before."

His eyes widened. "An ability?"

"Yes. Think about it. You are alive. You breathe, speak, move, and think. Your body shows no signs of deterioration, no strain, no imbalance—even though mana isn't circulating within you. That should be impossible."

She took another step, then lifted her hand. Her fingers hovered a few inches from his chest, as though reading something only she could sense.

Lucius held still. He closed his eyes, hoping to feel something—anything—but there was only silence inside. A hollow quiet.

Then, she whispered it.

"Unbelievable…"

That one word struck like a thunderclap. He opened his eyes, catching the fire of amazement and uncertainty in hers.

In that moment, Lucius understood something—not about himself, but about her. Sia was no longer just the saviour who had fought alongside him. She was his tether to answers. And even she didn't have them all.

But she was willing to search.

And maybe… just maybe… so was he.

"Not only do you have a perfect circle embedded in the centre of your chest—a mana core, albeit depleted—but you also possess an entire network of mana veins, mana points, and channels coursing through your body," Sia murmured, her voice filled with something close to reverence. "What a remarkable phenomenon. Truly, it is a gift of divine proportion, I would dare say…"

Lucius listened intently, every word she spoke pulling the veil back further on the mystery of his existence. Her eyes shimmered with excitement, wonder lighting her features in a way that almost seemed out of place amid the devastation surrounding them.

"You are not as unfortunate as I initially believed," she continued. "Your mana core—though non-functional—is flawless. And your veins, your channels, the connecting points… they are extraordinary. Honestly, Lucius, they may rival those of the highborn elites of the central cities."

Lucius blinked, stunned. "Then… what was the scan you did earlier?"

He had his suspicions—dangerous ones. If she had attempted to inject mana into him, and if his body had rejected it, the damage could've been irreversible.

"You guessed correctly." Her tone was light, proud even. "Yes—I injected a small amount of mana into you."

Lucius's breath caught in his throat, but no pain followed. No backlash. No rejection. Relief crept into his chest.

"Lucius, your body—your core, your pathways—they responded. Only for a brief moment, yes, but they activated. That means your body can absorb, purify, and circulate mana, just like the rest of us. The difference is—right now—it simply doesn't."

Her expression, her voice, even her posture—they were filled with joy. Is she happy because of me… or for me? he wondered. Either way, it stirred something warm in his chest.

"If what you're saying is true…" Lucius hesitated, piecing it together. "Then there's a chance I can reconnect to mana again?"

"There is," Sia confirmed. "But it will take more than a mere trickle. We would need to pour an immense amount of purified mana into your core."

Lucius frowned. "Why purified mana? Why not raw mana—the chaotic kind used in combat?"

It wasn't doubt driving the question—just curiosity. He would've accepted anything if it brought him closer to what he'd lost. Deep inside, there was a whisper of memory—something torn away, something forgotten. And though he couldn't grasp what it was, the certainty remained: he used to have mana. He could feel it.

Sia paused, her gaze turning distant, as if recalling something from long ago.

"Let me tell you a story," she began, her voice steadier now, but carrying the weight of remembrance. "Back when I was serving in the military, there was a woman in our division—a fellow battleknight. Strong. Brave. She was nearing the end of her pregnancy, but she was denied maternity leave. Our superiors claimed the mission was too important. So she marched with us."

Lucius sat quietly, the image forming in his mind.

"One night, in the middle of a deployment, she went into labour. No doctor. Only Lady Adriana—our division's healer. We huddled in a cramped tent, every minute stretched by dread and tension. The delivery… didn't go well."

Sia's voice dimmed.

"She lost the child."

Lucius felt the shift. The air around them grew heavy, the silence that followed charged with grief that still lingered in her bones.

"She nearly died herself," Sia whispered. "But it wasn't the labour that almost killed her. It was the despair. The grief severed her connection to mana. Her body began to collapse. Her core dimmed, her life slipping away."

Lucius's throat tightened.

"Lady Adriana didn't hesitate. She poured all of her purified mana directly into the knight's core. Not chaotic, weaponised mana—pure, untainted energy. And I remember it, Lucius. The scream. The pain. Her body fought it at first. She wanted to die. Her will had shattered."

Sia's eyes glistened in the light of the rising sun.

"But she lived."

Lucius exhaled slowly. The story echoed in his mind, as vivid as if he'd witnessed it himself.

"There is a way," she said gently. "To reconnect. To reawaken a severed bond. But it is not without risk. If I miscalculate… if your body rejects the surge… your core might shatter. Permanently."

The weight of that settled between them.

"I can't promise success," she added. "The decision is yours. Do you want to try?"

Lucius looked down at his hands. Small, still stained with the blood of the dead. He remembered the promise he'd made to Raga. The lives lost. The strength he yearned for. A way to stand beside people like Sia, not as a burden, but as an equal.

He raised his head and met her gaze.

"Yes," he said. "I want to try."

"Yes, I do," Lucius said, voice steady. The truth was obvious—he had little to lose. Sia was the first, and perhaps the only, person he felt any connection to in this unfamiliar world. If this process ended his life, he would regret losing her… but beyond that, there was nothing to mourn. After witnessing the raw power of mana just the day before, he understood: to uphold the promises he had made, to protect what little he now held dear, he needed mana to become his ally.

"I'm ready, Lady Sia. Please proceed," he added, firm in his decision. Somewhere beneath his composure, he was grateful she still gave him a choice.

"Very well," Sia replied, her tone sombre. "I'll begin in half an hour. Until then, warm up your body—light movement, whatever feels right. Get your blood flowing."

He nodded and stepped away as she took her place on a slab of stone. Her posture straightened with practised purpose. Her eyes closed. Her breath deepened and slowed. In moments, she fell into meditation, mana flowing to her like water finding its level.

Lucius turned his focus inward. He began to move—short sprints across the clearing, climbing trees, holding stretches until tension eased from his limbs. The physicality grounded him, eased his nerves. He flowed through every motion with a singular thought anchoring him: he would survive this.

"Are you ready?" The Blacknight asked.

Her voice had lost its usual warmth. It was distant now, cold, even. As if she'd armoured more than just her body in preparation for what was to come.

She was expecting the worst. Her armour, fully reinforced with protective enchantments, gleamed under the rising sun. It was designed to withstand even catastrophic failures—mana overloads, chain detonations, ruptured cores. Low probability wasn't zero. And Sia didn't gamble.

"Any potential last words, little one?" she asked.

No tease. No jest. Just an honest question.

Lucius exhaled, forcing the tension from his lungs. "If I die… know that this was what I wanted. Don't blame yourself."

She didn't speak. Just gave a single nod. Her helm concealed her expression, but the silence felt heavy enough.

"Lie down."

He obeyed, lowering himself onto the rough earth. It scratched against his back, but he barely noticed. His mind flickered through fleeting memories. He had more to do. More to say. But this wasn't the end. Not yet.

Maybe.

Fear sat in his chest like a stone. He was terrified—not of pain, but of vanishing. Eight hours of life, snuffed out before it even began. But it wasn't desperation that drove him. It was a necessity. This was the only door forward. And it might never open again.

Before Sia could begin, he reached for her hands.

She stiffened but didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For your loss."

She didn't reply.

She didn't need to.

She gave the faintest nod, then gently pulled her hands free and placed them over his chest.

And without warning, it began.

At first, it was… pleasant. A soft warmth coursed through him, not unlike a hot spring. His limbs loosened. His thoughts drifted. For a breath, he wondered if it might not be so bad.

It was.

The heat surged. What had begun as a soothing warmth twisted into something unbearable. It climbed rapidly, scorching from the inside out. His skin felt as though it blistered beneath the surface; his blood ignited, his nerves crackled with searing pain. Then something worse took hold.

Flames—not literal, but something deeper and far more violent—erupted within him. The energy coursed through his veins, incinerating everything in its path. Muscle, bone, even organs—all felt as if they were being torn apart and remade in fire.

Lucius screamed.

The sound ripped from his throat—raw, primal, desperate.

"Sia! Stop! Please!"

She didn't.

His body convulsed, arms flailing, legs kicking instinctively—but he couldn't move, not truly. An invisible weight crushed him against the ground.

Mana Force.

She was restraining him, making sure he didn't disrupt the process.

Then came something new.

His chest—something inside it was changing.

Amid the chaos, deep within the core of his being, a presence stirred. Something foreign. Something alive. It twisted violently, a storm struggling to form.

His vision blurred. The world swam in a haze of red and white.

Through it, he saw her.

Sia stood above him, shouting—not in pain, but with urgency and command. Her voice pierced through the agony like a blade.

"DO NOT STOP! KEEP ABSORBING!"

Absorb?

He didn't understand. But the pain—it wasn't just destruction anymore. It was a transformation. The inferno within wasn't only devouring him.

It was creating something.

The fire in his chest wasn't trying to kill him.

It was trying to become him.

He tuned out everything else—the terror, the convulsions, the unbearable heat—and focused on that singular sensation. The storm inside. The spiralling force at his centre, wild and unstable.

He spun it faster.

Somehow, without knowledge or control, he moved it. Directed it. Accelerated it.

The pressure built. The agony condensed, until all of it—pain, power, potential—compressed into a single, molten point in his chest. A nascent core, forming in real time.

"FASTER!" Sia shouted, clutching his hands now.

He obeyed.

The storm intensified. His body trembled violently as the energy reached critical mass.

Then, everything stalled.

Not by will.

By limitation.

The storm could spin no faster.

Worse—it began to slow.

Lucius felt the shift, and panic gripped him. The storm he had created, the very thing keeping him tethered to life, was faltering. His core was failing.

Sia's voice turned sharp, almost panicked. "NO! KEEP GOING! DO NOT LET IT STOP!"

He tried.

But his body was at its end. Every ounce of strength was gone. The fire inside dimmed.

He was done.

Finished.

Yet—he wasn't.

He couldn't be.

A memory flashed—Raga—bloodied and broken, smiling despite the agony. A warrior who had trusted him. A captain who had passed his legacy on with his final breath.

Lucius had made a promise.

And he would not break it.

Not to Raga.

Not to Sia.

If forward wouldn't work, then he would spin it backwards.

Drawing upon a final, flickering shred of willpower, Lucius reached into the collapsing storm. He pulled the scattered pieces inward, compressed them again, and reformed the motion—

And reversed it.

The instant the rotation flipped, something detonated within his chest.

The core ignited. The storm didn't just resume—it accelerated, exponentially. Raw, untamed mana surged outward, spiralling with impossible force.

"NO—! STOP!" Sia's voice cracked through the chaos, frantic now.

He barely heard her.

The buildup was too much. The energy condensed inside him swelled beyond containment.

He knew what was coming.

A Mana Discharge.

His lips parted to warn her. To shout—to beg her to run—but he couldn't tell if sound escaped.

Too late to stop it.

His only choice was to direct it.

Lucius gathered every last sliver of consciousness and molded the fire inside him. Not with control, but with instinct. He shaped it. Stabilised it.

And then, as the edges of his vision blackened, as the world teetered on the brink of nothingness—

He whispered the only words that came to him.

Words that felt ancient, embedded in his very soul.

"Mana Zone: Flames of Purgatory..."

The world detonated.