Hope scaled through a wooden fence, the old wood creaking softly beneath his weight as he dropped to the other side. The quiet sound was drowned by the distant noise of the Citadel. Adjusting the sanity mask on his face, he took a slow breath. Today, he had decided to take a walk through the Citadel—a rare choice, one made without any particular reason, just the weight of thoughts pressing in.
People glanced his way as he moved along the worn cobbled path, their eyes lingering longer than necessary. As if he were a walking curse. A plague given flesh.
Today, the sanity mask had chosen to wear a twisted smile—its curved lips painted in a grotesque grin, stretched unnaturally. Hope sighed inwardly. The irony wasn't lost on him. Behind the mask, his face was expressionless, but he could feel the weariness building in his chest.
As he walked past a small group of Awakened standing near a fountain, he gave a polite nod—an instinctive gesture of civility. But none of them returned it. Instead, they walked past him, coldness in their eyes, their auras tense. They pretended not to see him—but he saw their clenched fists, their wary glances.
With a flick of his fingers and a shimmer of light, he summoned Parrot. The small creature materialized from thin air and fluttered down to his shoulder, letting out a sharp cry as it settled its claws gently into his worn cloak.
"Hope, Hope!" Parrot said out loud, voice bright and mischievous.
"It's Hopeless, not Hope," Hope retorted, his voice low and calm.
"Okay, okay," Parrot responded quickly, tilting its head. "Are we going to the bar today?"
"No," Hope replied, almost immediately, without hesitation.
The sun was nearly gone, slipping beneath the jagged skyline of the Citadel. The sky glowed with a faint golden hue, streaked with hints of red and purple. The air was cool, brushing softly against his skin beneath the tattered layers of his coat.
Hope slowed his pace and eventually stopped. He found a lone wooden bench resting at the edge of the stone road, shaded by a crooked street lamp that flickered occasionally. He sat down without a word and leaned back, allowing his body a rare moment of stillness. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the Citadel fade into a distant hum.
Then, he felt it—someone taking the seat beside him.
Hope opened his eyes and slowly turned his head toward the presence. The individual sat quietly, their face mostly hidden beneath a long scarf wrapped around their lower jaw and a hooded cloak pulled low over their head. The only thing visible were their eyes—sharp and unreadable.
"So, Hopeless... you're the one most of the Awakened are talking about, huh?" the person said casually.
Hope was caught off guard. Most people in the Citadel didn't know his name, or at least they didn't say it out loud. But his mask hid the flicker of surprise perfectly.
He responded in a measured tone, "It depends on what you're talking about. I'm not the only one in the Citadel."
The person gave a slight nod, as if expecting that answer. Then, he continued without pause.
"In my first trial in the Ashland as a contestant, I did make friends—no, not friends, but comrades. We fought side by side."
His voice held a distant echo, as if the memory still haunted him.
"You know, it was only the three of us," he continued. "We had to pass the first trial... and what stood between us and passing was a Sacred Beast."
Hope listened in silence.
"So you should understand," the stranger went on, "that it's impossible for mere contestants to take on a Sacred Beast."
Hope nodded. He did understand. What the stranger said was right—Sacred Beasts were terrifying creatures, beings on par with Ascended or Masters in the waking world. Facing one as a fresh contestant was suicide.
Well he did fight one though so....
Still, Hope didn't know why this person was telling him all this. They didn't know each other, had never spoken before. But something about the man's tone made him keep listening.
The stranger continued.
"Although there were also corrupted fiends, we devised a way to take care of them... but we made a mistake."
He paused, the words heavier now.
"We underestimated the true power of a Sacred Beast. We thought that if we worked together, we'd have a chance at defeating it."
The figure then shook his head slowly, as if the memory was bitter.
"And that... cost me my life."
"Uhh?" Hope could only mutter. Did he hear right? He said it cost me my life—then how the hell was he still here?
"I got killed in a gruesome way," the figure said with chilling calm. "But here's the thing—I wasn't meant to die. I had a goal to fulfill."
He clenched his fist.
"So even in death, I made a deal with the devil..."
Hope swallowed, his breath catching slightly in his throat.
The figure's voice dropped lower, more intense now.
"I made a deal with the devil to bring me back to life. With limited time... so I can fulfill my mission."