Kaizen followed the sound of sobbing deeper into the temple.
Sob. Hic.
It echoed off the cold stone walls. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
He walked past the shattered pews with splintered wood scattered across the floor. He checked behind the fallen pillars that had crushed the ground where they landed. He even looked inside a cracked confession booth that was missing its door.
Nothing.
No ghost. No weeping spirit. Just dust and oppressive silence.
"Okay," Kaizen muttered while scratching his head. "I know I heard crying. Unless my sanity bar is dropping, someone is definitely here."
He walked deeper, his footsteps crunching on broken glass and debris. The further he went, the colder it got. His breath came out in visible puffs.
He reached the central altar.
Standing there, bathed in a shaft of weak, grey sunlight filtering through a hole in the roof, was a Monk.
He wore simple, tattered saffron robes that had seen better centuries. The fabric was faded and torn in places, patched with mismatched cloth. His back was turned. He was meticulously arranging dead, frozen flowers into a golden pot placed in front of the headless statue of the Sun God.
Kaizen paused.
'A Monk NPC? He was not in the cutscene. Is he a survivor?'
The Monk's movements were slow and deliberate. He picked up each flower like it was precious, even though they were all dead and frozen solid. He arranged them with the kind of care someone might give to a lover's grave.
Kaizen approached slowly, gripping the handle of his rusty pan. His footsteps echoed in the silence.
"Excuse me."
The Monk did not jump. He did not turn around quickly. He simply paused his flower arranging, his hand hovering over a wilted rose.
"Greetings, traveler."
His voice was rasping, like dry leaves scraping together. Like a voice that had not spoken to another living soul in centuries.
"It is rare to see the living in this ruined temple."
"Yeah, well, I took a wrong turn at the ski resort," Kaizen quipped, trying to lighten the oppressive atmosphere. "Hey, did you hear someone crying? Like, really loud, heartbreaking sobbing?"
The Monk resumed his work. He picked up a frozen lily and placed it gently in the vase, adjusting it three times until it was perfectly positioned.
"The wind plays tricks in these ruins. There is no one here but us. And the silence."
Kaizen frowned.
'Liar. I definitely heard it. And wind does not sob with words.'
He looked around again. The temple was empty except for the two of them. The dungeon rank indicator still showed F (Variable) in the corner of his vision.
'Hidden Quest mechanics. If the objective is not visible, I have to trigger it through dialogue. Classic adventure game logic.'
He walked closer, leaning casually against the altar like he was chatting with an old friend.
"So, you live here? Pretty drafty. Not much heating. The property value must be terrible."
"I tend to the God. I pray for the souls that were lost."
"Lost? You mean the Paladins? The children?"
The Monk's hand froze mid-motion. The flower in his grip snapped with a brittle crack.
Silence stretched between them like a blade. Kaizen's lips curled up slowly.
"Yes. The children."
The words came out barely above a whisper.
"Must be hard," Kaizen pressed, watching the Monk's reaction closely. "Praying all day. Asking for forgiveness for what happened here."
"Forgiveness?"
The Monk laughed.
"Who said anything about forgiveness?"
"Is that not what monks do? You pray. You repent. You ask the Big Guy upstairs to wash away the sins. Forgive and forget, right? That is the whole point of religion."
The air temperature dropped noticeably. Kaizen could see his breath getting thicker.
The Monk turned around slowly, like a rusted hinge finally giving way.
His messy, unkempt hair obscured most of his face, hanging down in dirty tangles. But Kaizen could feel the intense glare burning through the shadows. It was not the glare of a peaceful holy man. It was the glare of a soldier who had seen hell and never left.
"Some sins cannot be washed away."
The Monk's voice was low and dangerous.
"Some creatures do not deserve forgiveness."
"Creatures? You mean the demons?"
"No."
The Monk spat the word like poison.
"I mean the ones who failed. The ones who had the power to save innocent lives, and chose to slaughter them instead. The monsters who wear the armor of saints. The cowards who call themselves heroes."
He crushed the frozen lily in his hand. The petals turned to dust and scattered across the altar.
"There is no forgiveness for them. Only eternal penance. Only endless suffering as payment for what they have done."
Kaizen stared at the crushed flower, then at the dust falling like snow.
He looked at the Monk's hands properly for the first time. They were scarred all over with old wounds that had healed badly. Calloused from years of hard labor. Not the soft hands of a scholar or a prayer-maker. They were the hands of a warrior. Hands that had gripped a sword so long the calluses had become permanent. Hands that had killed.
Kaizen's doubts were correct after all.
The Weeping Man is not a ghost.
The Weeping Man is not hiding somewhere else.
He looked at the Monk standing before him, at the way he held himself despite the ragged robes. The posture of a knight.
It is him.
Sir Cassiel. The Paladin of the Dawn. The Paladin who killed the children he swore to protect.
He did not die in the battle. He did not ascend to heaven with the Sun God's blessing. He stripped off his holy armor piece by piece, put on these filthy rags, and spent the last five thousand years punishing himself in this frozen hell.
He was not looking for forgiveness. He was actively ensuring he never got it. This was his self-imposed prison.
[System Alert: Hidden Objective Updated.]
[Target Identified: The Penitent One.]
[True Identity: Sir Cassiel, Knight of the Ruined Dawn.]
Kaizen looked at the dungeon rank indicator again.
[Rank: F (Variable)]
It was still F. Because Cassiel had not drawn his sword yet. He was suppressing his own power, deliberately keeping his strength locked away.
He was hiding his own boss health bar under the guise of a lowly, broken monk.
The moment he revealed himself, that Variable tag would change. Probably to something terrifying like D Rank.
"I see," Kaizen said carefully. "So you think he, I mean they, should suffer forever? No redemption? No second chances?"
"Yes. Forever is not long enough."
The Monk turned back to his flowers, dismissing Kaizen.
"Now leave this place, child. There is nothing for you here but ghosts and regret."
Kaizen gripped his Rusty Pan tighter, feeling the weight of it.
'Okay. I get it now. The quest is not to kill a monster. The quest is to make this guy forgive himself. To break him out of this five-thousand-year depression spiral.'
'Or...'
Kaizen thought as a dangerous plan formed in his mind.
'I can annoy him until he snaps out of it. Poke the bear until he remembers he is a bear.'
"That sounds absolutely exhausting," Kaizen said, deliberately yawning and stretching his arms. "Holding onto a grudge for five thousand years? That is kinda cringe, bro."
The Monk went completely rigid. Every muscle locked.
"What did you say?"
His voice was deadly quiet.
"I said it is cringe. Self-pity is so last era. Oh, look at me, I am so sad, I am a terrible monster. Boo hoo. Get over it, old man. Move on with your life. Or death. Whatever this is."
He was baiting the boss. He was deliberately poking the sleeping dragon with a stick.
'Trigger the event,' Kaizen thought while his heart pounded in his chest. 'Come on. Show me the Golden Knight beneath the rags.'
The Monk's shoulders began to shake. Not with sobbing this time.
With pure, burning rage.
"You... ignorant... child..."
The air began to hum with suppressed power. The dust on the floor started to rise and swirl in spirals. Cracks appeared in the stones beneath the Monk's feet.
Kaizen braced himself, shifting his weight.
"Here we go."