[Guild of Preservation – Underground Archives]
[Time: 10:30 AM]
"So, for a fact, I know that we can all advance up the ladder of the Sequences."
Old Man Uriel spoke slowly, his eyes scanning the thick leather-bound book in his hands. Across from him, Lucian sat in silence, listening intently to every word.
"I am a Tier 3: Warden of the Preservation Sequence," Uriel admitted, turning a page. "So, I do not have access to all the high-level secrets the Guild protects. But trust me, kid... I know a lot of things."
Tier 3, Lucian thought, eyeing the frail old man with newfound respect. He is two full Tiers above me. He might look like a stiff breeze could knock him over, but he could probably crush me with a thought.
He didn't voice this aloud. He just nodded.
"As I told you," Uriel continued, "to advance, you must consume a Tier 2 Ether Crystal and perform a Ritual. That is the standard path. However..."
Uriel lowered the book, peering over his glasses.
"There are rumors of a 'Third Way' to advance. To be honest with you, I don't really have any knowledge about it. It is forbidden lore, likely locked away in the main archives of Westminster."
"I see," Lucian murmured.
"Let's talk about history then, shall we?" Uriel leaned back. "We are currently in 2081 AD, the era of the Fourth Dark."
"It is a date we humans set to track the calamities. The 'First Dark' was when everything started—the arrival of the System, 2,000 years ago."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase.
Both men turned their heads. A moment later, Grace appeared at the archway, breathless and clutching the doorframe.
"Oh, it is our dear Grace," Uriel smiled warmly. "How may this old man help you?"
"Humm..." Grace took a breath to steady herself. "Lucian. Mr. Aziz is back. He wants to see you immediately."
Lucian blinked. Azrael is back?
He stood up, confused but obedient. He turned to Uriel to say goodbye, but the old man just waved him off from his chair.
"Go on, kid. Don't keep the Boss waiting."
Lucian nodded and followed Grace up the stairs, leaving the quiet sanctuary of the archives behind.
[Branch Master's Office – Second Floor]
Lucian stood before the mahogany door. He straightened his black tuxedo, adjusted his hat, and knocked.
Knock. Knock.
"Come inside."
The voice was calm, but there was a weight to it today.
Lucian pushed the door open.
Azrael Aziz was sitting behind his desk, but he wasn't reading a newspaper or smoking a cigar like usual. His desk was buried under mountains of paperwork—reports on the war, casualty lists, and supply logistics. He looked stressed.
But he wasn't alone.
Sitting—or rather, slouching—on a chair beside the Guild Master was another man.
He was young, with long, messy black hair that fell over his face. He had sharp, striking features and deep black eyes that looked like they hadn't slept in weeks. He wore a loose white shirt with the top buttons undone, exposing his collarbone, and he sat with a casual disrespect that made Lucian pause.
Who is he? Lucian wondered. He's sitting so casually next to Mr. Aziz...
Lucian stepped into the room and cleared his throat.
"Did you call me, Guild Master?"
"Please, have a seat, Lucian." Azrael gestured to the empty chair without looking up from his documents.
Lucian sat down, feeling the gaze of the stranger on him.
"As you can see, I am busy today," Azrael said, signing a paper aggressively. "I have documents to fill out because of this war. The bureaucracy is a nightmare."
"Fair enough," Lucian thought.
"The reason I called you is simple," Azrael continued, finally looking up with his crimson eyes. "There is a crime scene in Bond Street, Sector 2. I need you to go there."
Lucian stiffened. "A mission?"
"Don't worry," Azrael waved his hand dismissively. "It is not something dangerous. Consider it a field trip for your learning process. I cannot go, so I am sending Mr. Arthur to guide you."
Azrael pointed his pen at the slouching man.
The man named Arthur yawned, stretching his arms wide.
"Hello," Arthur said, his voice thick with sleep. "Nice to meet you, Lucian."
"Nice to meet you too," Lucian replied, wary of the man's lethargic energy.
"Go to Sector 2," Azrael commanded. "Arthur will guide you. Follow his every command. Do not deviate."
"Understood."
Lucian stood up. Out of habit—and fear of Azrael—he tried to bow his head in respect.
His neck muscles locked.
[CONSTRAINT ACTIVE: SIN OF PRIDE]
[You cannot Beg.]
[You cannot Kneel.]
[You cannot Bow.]
A jolt of electricity ran through his spine. Lucian froze halfway, his body refusing to lower itself. He awkwardly straightened back up, his face impassive but his mind racing.
Dammit, Lucian cursed internally. I can't even bow? They are going to think I have a shitty personality.
He was an orphan; he knew how to survive by lowering his head. But the Sin of Pride wouldn't let him be humble.
Arthur didn't seem to notice—or care. He lazily pushed himself off the chair and shuffled toward the door.
"Let's go, Lucian," Arthur mumbled, opening the door and stepping into the hallway.
He glanced back over his shoulder, his black eyes suddenly gleaming with something dark.
"Let's go see the souls."
Souls? Lucian frowned. What is he talking about?
Pushing the thought aside, Lucian tipped his hat to Azrael—since he couldn't bow—and followed the sleepy man out of the office.