[Central London – Bond Street Plaza]
The area was buzzing.
Around the weathered notice board where the soldier had pasted the paper early that morning, the air was thick with tension. It wasn't the usual morning bustle of commerce; it was a heavy, suffocating atmosphere of fear mixed with anger.
Everyone stared at the fresh ink on the poster. They couldn't believe their eyes. It had finally happened.
[OFFICIAL PROCLAMATION]
[By Order of the Crown]
[State of War Declared against The Iron Kingdom of Aethelgard.]
[Prepare for Emergency Protocols.]
A man wearing a blue tuxedo and a bowler hat, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped cane in his left hand, gasped as he read the words. The news seemed to drain the color from his face.
"The war... is really going to happen," he stammered, his voice trembling. He looked around at the gathering crowd. "What are we going to do? Fight? We are just normal human beings! We aren't like the Awakened!"
"He's right," a woman whispered nearby. "We'll die. Why is this happening? What have we done to deserve this?"
The man in the tuxedo dropped his cane. He fell into a prayer position right there on the cobblestones, placing his right hand over his chest.
"Oh, God of Preservation," he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please, save us from this situation. Protect us!"
The desperation was contagious. One by one, the people in the plaza lowered their heads, muttering prayers to the Angel of Preservation, begging for safety, for walls, for things to stay the same.
Lucian stood at the edge of the plaza, watching them with cold indifference.
He saw the fear. He saw the devotion. But he felt nothing.
Gods, he thought bitterly. They're praying to statues.
He knew the gods of this world wouldn't save them. The God of Preservation hadn't saved him when he was starving in the gutter. The angels hadn't come down to stop the guards when Lucian was beaten half to death for stealing a crust of bread.
"So, war is it," Lucian murmured to himself.
War meant chaos. Chaos meant opportunity, but it also meant danger.
I need to get stronger, he decided. If I stay weak, I'll just be another corpse in the pile.
He turned away from the praying crowd and headed toward a narrow alleyway. He was hungry—his stomach twisted in knots, having not eaten anything since yesterday—and he needed to find a way to get food without begging.
He stepped into the shadows of the alley, hoping to find a shortcut to the market bins.
Suddenly, he stopped.
Two familiar figures blocked the path ahead.
Lucian's breath hitched. He knew them. He hated them.
Victor and Alric.
"Even dogs can survive the Trial, it seems," Lucian thought, a spike of irritation mixing with old fear.
Victor was a big guy, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, with a build that shouldn't have been possible for a beggar. Next to him was Alric, a small, weasel-faced fellow who always hid behind Victor's shadow.
"Oye, cunt," Victor grunted, his voice deep and rough. "You here?"
Victor stepped forward, blocking the light from the street.
Alric popped his head out from behind Victor, his eyes darting over Lucian's ragged clothes. "You survived the first Trial, huh?" Alric snickered. "You lucky bastard."
Alric looked up at the big man and grinned. "He must have gotten some power, right, Vic? Should we... test it out for him? Hehe."
"Yeah," Victor agreed, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see what you got."
Victor took a breath, and his skin began to change. The flesh turned gray, hardening and cracking until his arms looked like solid rock.
Stone Skin. A common defensive trait from the Preservation Sequence.
Lucian saw this and his instincts screamed at him. Run.
He had bad memories with these two. He remembered the beatings. He remembered the pain. He didn't want to fight a guy made of stone. He turned his heel, ready to sprint back toward the plaza.
THROB.
Pain exploded in his skull.
It wasn't a headache; it felt like his brain was being squeezed by a vice. Lucian gasped, clutching his head, stumbling.
A red screen flashed violently in front of his eyes.
[CONSTRAINT VIOLATION]
[You cannot run away from a fight.]
[Doing so will result in cranial explosion.]
[WARNING: 10 seconds until your head blows up.]
[10...]
[9...]
"Shit!" Lucian hissed, his vision blurring from the agony. "This message..."
The pain was unbearable. It was real. If he took another step away, he would die.
[FIGHT.]
"Okay! Okay!" Lucian screamed internally at the voice in his head. "I will fight! Are you happy now?!"
He forced himself to stop running. He turned back around to face Victor and Alric, the pain in his head slowly subsiding as he accepted his fate.
He couldn't run. He had to stand his ground.