The Fallen One

The Rank of Saints, huh…
A challenge so immense it sounded nearly impossible.

Just the kind of thing.

But how was he supposed to reach that level? How could he even take a single step forward from F-rank, the absolute lowest point of the hierarchy? The gap between where he stood and that mythical rank was less like a staircase and more like an endless abyss.

Fortunately, Sia had the answers—if he could keep up.

"Your mana core—start using it for basic tasks. Observe how it performs. You'll come to your own conclusions. If not… well, I'm not going anywhere."

Simple advice on the surface. But like most of Sia's words, it carried more weight beneath.

Understanding his own mana core... "Efficiency and pre-established connection to mana... That's what it's all about, isn't it?"

She didn't respond aloud, but the faint nod she gave said everything. That was the answer.

Lucius turned inward, directing his focus into his own body, searching for the pulsing presence of his newly awakened core.

He attempted a basic enhancement: empowering his vision, sharpening his senses. The result? A complete disaster.

The activation took too long. The mana flow was sluggish and wild, refusing to stabilise. Worse still, the energy consumed was outrageous compared to the negligible effect it produced.

Shit.

His hands curled into fists. It wasn't just inefficient. It was barely functioning.

His core's in terrible shape.

His gaze flickered toward Sia, who continued marching with practised grace, her hand near her blade. She acted as if danger might leap from the shadows at any moment, but Lucius knew better. This region was cleared. This was the off-season—the whole reason she'd ventured this deep with Raga's squad in the first place.

So what was she really watching for?

Still, his core took priority.

"Sia, teach me more about the mana core," he said firmly.

She spared him a glance before speaking.

"You've already analysed your core. You must've realised how inefficient it is. It drains too much mana for basic output, doesn't it?"

Lucius nodded grimly.

"Don't worry. That's normal. Every one of us starts this way. Your core is newly formed, unstable, and filled with impurities. The internal mana channels—your veins, conduits, and pathways—are narrow and underdeveloped. Even the core's rotation is off."

It made sense. The core wasn't just a static reservoir. It was more like a living organ—one that had to evolve, to be trained and reshaped like muscle.

"As you practice proper mana training," Sia continued, "your core will begin to purify itself. It'll shed those impurities layer by layer. With time, its shape will shift into a more stable form—a perfect sphere. When that happens…"

She paused.

"It undergoes self-destruction."

"Self-what?" Lucius almost tripped.

She nodded calmly.

"It sounds worse than it is. The core doesn't explode—it breaks itself down, layer by layer. Each layer it sheds is a barrier, a set of impurities limiting its potential. As those layers fall away, the core evolves. Each breakthrough gives the core a new colour, marking the next stage of power."

Lucius was locked in now, completely focused.

"So the ranks—F through SS and beyond—they're not arbitrary?"

"No," Sia said. "Each rank corresponds to the number of layers you've refined away from your core. At the beginning, your core is buried beneath six to eight layers of impurity."

That meant every rank-up wasn't just symbolic. It was physical—a literal transformation of the core.

Lucius frowned, gears already turning.

If he could somehow break through multiple layers at once... couldn't he skip ranks?

"Before you even say it," Sia cut in, "no, you can't just break multiple layers for the sake of growth."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. Your face said it for you."

Lucius sighed. Caught red-handed.

Her voice grew sharper.

"Listen closely. Trying to break too many layers at once places enormous stress on your core, your body, and your soul. If your core isn't ready, it won't just stall—it'll shatter. If that happens, your connection to mana is gone. Forever."

She gave him a hard look.

"Best-case scenario? You become an ordinary human again. Worst-case?"

A beat of silence.

"You explode."

The chill that ran down Lucius's spine wasn't from the wind.

"That's a bit dramatic."

Sia gave a flat look.

"Tell that to the fools who left behind nothing but a crater."

He got the point.

She continued, voice lower now.

"I'm stuck at A-rank. Not because I lack skill or power, but because of a limiter."

Lucius blinked. "Limiter?"

"Everyone's born with one," she said. "Your potential is finite. Some reach it early. Others spend a lifetime trying. Mine? There's an eighty per cent chance that if I attempt to break into S-rank, I'll fail. At best, I'll lose my mana. At worst…"

She smiled without humour.

"I die in an explosion."

Silence settled between them.

An eighty per cent chance of failure. Even someone like her faced risks that steep?

"Now," Sia said, glancing at him, "what about you?"

Lucius's mind ran cold.

'What about me...?'

He had already lost one of the Big Four: Affinity. A crippling disadvantage.

The rest?

Talent? Possibly. He learned fast, but he had no one to compare to yet.

Bloodline? A complete mystery.

Luck? He found Sia. That had to count for something.

But was that enough?

The truth was... he didn't know. And that was what scared him the most.

He let out a slow breath, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

Right now, all he wanted was a full day's worth of sleep. But judging by Sia's pace and posture, that was a fantasy. To her, hours of travel were just a warm-up. Days of walking barely counted.

So, Lucius kept walking.

No more complaining. No more wondering.

Just walking—and waiting for the next step.

***

"Why did we stop all of a sudden? We're so close to the gates," Lucius whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Sia had grabbed his arm without warning and pulled him down behind a cluster of bushes. The suddenness of it stung—but more than that, it worried him. She wasn't the type to act without reason.

Something was wrong.

Lucius stretched his senses, trying to pick up anything—footsteps, rustling, flickers of mana—but there was nothing. No beasts nearby. No movement.

If there had been, Sia would've drawn her sword by now, her body coiled and ready for battle.

But she hadn't.

Instead, she crouched in eerie stillness, eyes scanning ahead, her posture tense. Her calm wasn't reassuring—it was unnatural.

Something was ahead.

She gave a silent hand signal—follow her lead. Lucius nodded and moved behind her, careful with every step.

Then it hit him.

The smell.

Rot.

Thick, putrid, suffocating. The kind of stench that clawed its way down his throat and churned his gut. His stomach tightened on instinct. The closer they got, the stronger it became—undeniable, repulsive, wrong.

Something was dead ahead.

They reached a clearing nestled in the trees, overgrown with brush, ringed by shadows. And then he saw it.

Lucius stepped forward, instincts pulling him closer. Sia didn't stop him. Just gave a silent nod.

Then the scene came into full view.

Corpses.

Scattered everywhere.

At least thirteen… no, fifteen bodies. Slumped over roots. Lodged into trees. Half-buried in thorny underbrush. Some had been smashed so violently against trunks that blood still painted the bark in wide, dark streaks.

Pools of blood soaked the earth. Some fresh and glistening. Others were already crusted and dry. The clearing reeked of death.

The creatures were large, wolf-like beasts, their fur matted with gore, limbs twisted at impossible angles.

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Once powerful. Now… mutilated.

Some had been torn apart—limbs thrown far from their bodies. Others had gaping claw marks across their chests, as if something had dug into them with monstrous precision and ripped them open.

It wasn't a battle. It was butchery.

Lucius's stomach turned, but he forced himself to keep looking. To understand.

Sia remained impassive.

She stepped over a mangled corpse with ease and crouched beside one of the less-damaged bodies. Her fingers moved with practised precision, pressing into its chest before extracting a small, glowing crystal.

It's mana core.

"Most of them still have their cores," she murmured. "That rules out humans or rival beasts."

Her voice held no emotion. Clinical. Detached.

Like this was routine.

"How can you tell?" Lucius asked.

Still crouching, she responded without glancing at him.

"If adventurers or hunters did this, they'd have taken the cores immediately. They're the most valuable resource. And they would've killed efficiently—clean strikes to the heart, head, or core. But this?"

She gestured around them.

"This wasn't about survival. This was a massacre."

A chill crept down Lucius's spine.

"So… it was another beast?"

Sia gave a slow nod.

"Most likely. The wounds—claw marks, blunt-force trauma, torn muscle—they point to something massive. Something fast. And strong enough to turn an Alpha beast into pulp."

Then, for just a second, she hesitated.

Just a flicker. A pause in her breath. Most people wouldn't have noticed.

But Lucius did.

"The one responsible for this was alone. Overwhelmingly strong. And most likely a corr—"

She cut herself off.

A what?

Her entire demeanour shifted. Shoulders tensed. Eyes cold. Her usual composure replaced by something… harder.

It took Lucius a moment to recognise it.

Fear.

Not alertness.

Not cautious.

Fear.

Even when they faced the Ghost Bear, she hadn't looked like this.

Whatever did this… it wasn't just dangerous.

It was something Sia didn't want to name.

"Lucius, we're leaving," she said sharply.

Her tone was crisp. Urgent. No room for debate.

"If the creature who did this returns for the cores, we do not want to be here when it does. Come. Now."

No hesitation.

Just leave.

Later…

"They're called Reindeers. A sub-species of the larger, more aggressive Greindeers," Sia said.

Her tone had returned to its usual calmness, as if the earlier scene had already been filed away in the back of her mind.

She pointed toward the carnage behind them.

"See that one? Smashed against the tree to your right. And that one—its head torn clean off, still hanging from that branch."

Lucius didn't want to look again.

But he did.

The first had been slammed with such force that its chest had collapsed entirely—ribs shattered inward, bones piercing organs. The second…

Its severed head swung lazily in the wind, blood still dripping in thick, slow droplets. The expression frozen on its face wasn't just pain.

It was terror.

"Those two," Sia said, "were the Alphas."

There was something strange in her voice. Not hesitation… but restraint. Like she was holding back the worst parts.

"Whoever—or whatever—did this didn't just kill them. It enjoyed doing it."

Lucius clenched his fists, jaw tight.

"Why?"

The word slipped out before he could stop it. But he didn't regret asking.

Because this wasn't a hunt. This was a display.

A message.

Sia studied him for too long. Her silence was its own answer.

She was re-evaluating him.

"This isn't how an eight-year-old should react," she finally said, not as a reprimand. Just a realisation she didn't like making.

She had forgotten to see him as a child.

And maybe… he wasn't one.

"Because," she finally admitted, "the two Alphas were as strong as Ragnar."

Lucius stopped breathing.

Ragnar.

One of the strongest warriors he had ever known. A force of nature. And these beasts these slaughtered beasts—had matched him in power?

But now they were just… corpses.

Torn apart like cattle.

And the thing that did it?

Still out there.

Somewhere.

Waiting.

Sia's eyes darkened.

"That means whatever did this was at least A+ rank."

Lucius gritted his teeth. A+ rank.

More than just a strong beast. That level of power could threaten entire battalions if left unchecked.

"This battle wasn't a hunt," Sia continued grimly. "It was an unavoidable massacre for the Reindeers. A display of strength toward humans. And for the monster…"

She trailed off.

Her face was unreadable.

"… it was a test."

They finally left the massacre behind, the rotten stench still clinging to Lucius's senses even as the night air grew clearer.

For a moment, it felt like they had put enough distance between themselves and the slaughter. That maybe—just maybe—they could walk in silence a little longer.

Then—

THUD.

Lucius barely registered the sound before something shifted beside him.

"What now, Luci—"

Sia's words cut off abruptly.

Because when she turned, he was already on the ground.

Dust rose up around him as his small body slumped forward. His vision blurred, limbs numb. His head felt heavy, like a weight he could no longer hold up.

Then—darkness.

Sia crouched beside him, watching for a few seconds, as if confirming something.

Then, she sighed.

"… I didn't expect him to last this long."

And it was true.

***

Despite everything—despite running, fighting, and enduring hours of exhaustion—Lucius had kept going. Until now.

His small frame had finally given in.

Sia shifted his unconscious body, carefully pulling him onto her back. He wasn't heavy—not even close—but she was still deliberate in how she carried him.

His arms hung naturally around her neck, his head resting against her left shoulder.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she walked in silence.

No danger. No tension. No unexpected battles.

Just the quiet hum of the night as she moved forward.

Finally… a moment of peace.

And yet, even in that silence, Sia's mind refused to rest.

Her thoughts churned, replaying everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

First, the mission.

They had ventured deep into the outer rim—risking more than they should have—just to hunt a common beast. That alone was suspicious.

Then, they had encountered Lucius.

Then, the Ghost Bear.

And now—this.

The graveyard of slaughtered Reindeers.

Sia's brows furrowed slightly.

Just yesterday, that section of the forest had been eerily empty. No beasts.

But today?

A whole horde of Reindeers… only to be wiped out.

Something didn't add up.

She exhaled slowly.

Odd. Too odd.

One thing was certain—this wasn't a coincidence.

She needed to report everything to him and the High Command as soon as possible.

Ragnar's fate—and the loss of his entire squad—was tragic, but it could wait.

The real priority?

The information she had gathered from that graveyard.

Because if she was right…

"To think they've dared to come this close to our sacred borders..." she muttered.

It wasn't long before Sia finally crossed into the buffer zone—the stretch of land before the actual borders of the Sacred Territory.

For a brief moment, she considered waking Lucius.

She wanted him to see it.

The greatness of the Sacred Walls.

Even from this distance, their presence was awe-inspiring—looming structures of ancient, unyielding stone, standing tall and defiant against time itself.

But Lucius didn't stir.

His breathing was steady, his body still in a deep state of unconsciousness.

"I'll let him sleep," Sia murmured.

For now, he had earned it.

***

Sia nudged Lucius' shoulder. "We're here. Wake up."

He groaned, barely shifting, still half-asleep. She used a trickle of mana to jolt him awake. His eyes snapped open, drowsy but alert as he stretched, his posture half-relaxed.

"Woah…!" His gaze shot upward, pupils dilating with awe.

A valid reaction. Sia nodded approvingly.

Towering above them, the Lunar Walls of the East stood like an indomitable force of nature. Vast slabs of enchanted stone, reinforced with silver-gilded linings, stretched toward the sky, disappearing into the clouds. The golden gates gleamed in the afternoon sun, their intricate engravings reflecting slivers of light. Lucius tilted his head back further, drinking in the sheer scale of the fortress before him.

His lips parted. "These walls... That gate with the silver lining… They're huge, Sia! Wait, what's that symbol on the gate? And those patterns on the walls?"

Sia followed his gaze. The intricate lunar crest—a crescent moon cradling a sword—was etched into the golden gate, mirrored by similar engravings that ran along the walls like veins of light.

"That symbol represents the Goddess of the Moon and Protection—Goddess Luna," she explained. "This entire stronghold is named in her honour. The Lunar Walls of the East. Remember that name, Lucius. Respect them, and they'll protect you for as long as they stand proudly on our land."

Lucius nodded slowly, his awe shifting into admiration. Unlike most children his age, he actually cared about history. Another reason he was going to be a problem, but in the right way.

Then, his eyes flicked higher. His expression shifted from admiration to confusion.

"Are those… cannons on top of the wall?" His voice dropped in wonder. "They're huge!"

Sia stilled.

He could see them? From down there? Even a D-rank adventurer wouldn't be able to spot them at that distance. Keen little eyes, that one.

"They're mana cannons, a recent invention that has boosted our military capabilities. They're the third line of defence in case of an attack," she said, watching his reaction closely. "The first is the wall itself. The second? The millions of Lunarknights who have guarded these walls for around a thousand years."

Lucius swallowed, staring up at the silent watchmen patrolling the high stone ledges.

Sia reached down and helped him down from the saddle. His boots hit the dusty road, and he wobbled slightly before catching his balance.

"Stay close to me," she murmured. "And keep your head down."

His mana signature was extremely weak for an eight-year-old—something that could actually work in their favour. If the wrong people found out… No. Best not to think about that right now.

As they approached the massive entrance, the Lunarknights stationed at the gate noticed them instantly. Their armor—polished grey metal with black cloaks, inspired by the moon's surface and the night sky—gleamed under the sun. None moved to stop them.

Instead, one knight descended from the wall.

Vice Captain of the Lunarknights, Lord Mercy.

The moment Sia saw him, she exhaled through her nose. Figures.

He strode toward them, his long strides confident yet controlled. He was tall, his build lean but powerful, and his greyish body armour was pristine as ever. No helmet. No nonsense. His eyes—sharp and unreadable—flickered toward Lucius before shifting back to Sia. He didn't say a word at first, just… studied the boy. Analysing his mana core. Searching for any possible threat.

So it began. Another round of questioning, Sia would have to navigate carefully.

Finally, he spoke.

"Lady Sia. Welcome back," Mercy said, bowing slightly. His tone was polite, but not casual. "You're late. Which means trouble. Where's Lord Ragnar and his team? And who," his gaze finally settled on Lucius, "is this?"

To his credit, Lucius tensed but didn't shrink under the scrutiny.

"One question at a time, Merc," Sia replied, grateful that he hadn't blocked their path, which meant he was willing to hear her out first. "Yes, it's good to be back. As for Ragnar and his team..." She hesitated. "They didn't survive."

Mercy's jaw tightened. A rare show of emotion.

"Lord Ragnar sacrificed himself to save me and this little guy." She gestured toward Lucius. "His name is Lucius. Lucius, say hello to Vice Captain of the Lunarknights, Lord Mercy."

Lucius glanced up at her, uncertain, and she gave him a barely perceptible nod.

He turned to Mercy and straightened his posture. "Hello, Sir Mercy. My name is Lucius. Nice to meet you."

A good first impression.

Mercy blinked once before crouching down to meet the boy's eye level. "Hello, Lucius. You can call me Mercy, just like Lady Sia." He extended a hand.

Lucius hesitated for only a moment before shaking it.

Mercy gave a small approving nod and stood, refocusing on Sia.

"Lady Sia," he said, voice lower, "what happened? A corrupt beast? An ambush? If even you lost your entire team, I can only imagine the monster you faced."

'Coming from an S-rank, that meant something...' Sia thought amusingly.

"We'll talk," she said, glancing at Lucius, who was zoning out from exhaustion. "But first, I need you to admit Lucius to a hospital. He's had a long journey."

Mercy nodded without hesitation. But before Sia could say more, another voice cut in.

"Sia. You're alive. I'm glad."

Lucius startled slightly at the emotionless tone. Sia sighed.

Rebecca.

Of course, she was here.

"Of course you are, Ms. Rebecca," Sia muttered.

Mercy, ignoring the usual friction between the two women, gestured toward Rebecca. "Escort the boy to the infirmary. Give him full access to treatment."

Rebecca didn't question it. She barely even looked at Lucius as she gave a curt nod. "Understood."

Lucius glanced back at Sia, eyes wide and uncertain. He didn't want to be separated.

Sia crouched, levelling with him. "Don't worry," she murmured. "Get a check-up. Rest. I'll come for you soon."

He bit his lip, then nodded.

But her eyes told him the unspoken part. Don't say anything. Keep your mouth shut.

He gave a firm nod, then followed Rebecca.

Sia turned back to Mercy.

"Now," she exhaled, "let's go face those old bastards."

He smirked. "You ready?"

She groaned. "Not even close."

They walked toward the High Command Centre, the heart of Varis' authority, where she would have to report the loss of Lord Ragnar, his team, and—more importantly—explain why she had Crimson Ultima in her possession.

And why Ragnar had entrusted it to an eight-year-old boy.

Sia shared everything with Mercy—every detail, every event, exactly as it had happened. She trusted him. Vice Captain of the LunarKnights, Lord Mercy. He was young, intelligent, and sensible—a rare combination, especially in a world where strength often outweighed wisdom. Unlike others who would interrupt with doubts or assumptions, he simply listened, absorbing her words in silence.

But his expression changed drastically the moment she mentioned Crimson Ultima's new owner, Lucius.

He didn't speak right away, but Sia saw the question forming before he asked it.

"Why?"

Just one word. But it was enough.

And she had no answer.

Why would someone like Ragnar—a man who had loved his weapon as fiercely as his wife—hand it over to a child he'd only known for a few hours? It made no sense. Crimson Ultima wasn't just any sword. It was a special-ranked weapon with a history of bloodshed and power. Adventurers wanted it. The guild coveted it. Nobles would kill for it. Ragnar had survived assassination attempts just to keep it.

And yet, in his final moments, he had chosen Lucius.

Mercy's brows furrowed, his sharp mind already calculating the implications. "There must be a reason," he muttered, more to himself than to Sia. "Ragnar wouldn't have given it up without one."

Sia sighed, her gaze drifting toward the towering high command building in the distance. "I don't know his reasons, Merc. And I doubt I ever will."

But one thing was clear—the sword was now her responsibility.

Until Lucius could prove himself worthy of Crimson Ultima, it would remain hidden.

Which led to her next problem—the storage ring inspections.

The moment she entered high command, her ring would be checked. Every item, every weapon, every ounce of mana within it would be exposed. If they found Crimson Ultima, it would be confiscated. Worse, there would be questions—why she had it, how she had it, and whether she had stolen it. And if word got out that Ragnar had given it to Lucius, the boy would become a target.

She wouldn't let that happen.

Which left her only one option.

Sia turned to Mercy, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I need you to store the sword in your ring."

His eyes flicked to hers, sharp and knowing.

"Sia…" he started, his voice carrying the weight of everything she wasn't saying.

She knew what she was asking. Storage rings were deeply personal. Entrusting someone with something inside was a matter of absolute trust. She was handing him the most dangerous weapon in their possession.

And yet, she had no choice.

Mercy studied her for a moment before sighing, rubbing the back of his head. "You're lucky I like you."

With a flick of his wrist, his storage ring glowed faintly. Sia transferred Crimson Ultima into it.

The weight on her shoulders eased slightly, but the responsibility still remained.

If Lucius never proved himself worthy of the weapon… he would never receive it.

That was a decision she was willing to make.

And, for now, that was enough.