The return journey to Cocoon City was surprisingly uneventful under the orderly escort of Captain Pierre's squad. With seasoned fighters flanking him, Lucien no longer had to worry about monsters lunging out from tall grass or hidden ponds.
"Strange... Why those Slime seemed suddenly vanished ?" the squad's only female member muttered under her breath, a frown creasing her brow.
"Maybe they got scared off by our mighty presence!" a short, wiry man beside her chuckled, puffing out his chest. The other two men in the team remained as silent as Baron, speaking little as they trudged along.
Cocoon City – West Gate – 6:15 PM
The imposing gates of Cocoon City finally loomed ahead, the familiar hum of the defensive barrier a tangible comfort. Pierre brought the squad to a precise halt just inside the perimeter. He turned, his scarred face impassive as he surveyed his team.
"Today's Mission achieved!" Pierre's voice boomed, carrying the weight of command even for a routine debrief. "Given recent stabilization trends across monitored sectors, and acknowledging your unit's consecutive days of high-alert deployment without adequate rest rotation," his gaze swept over the visibly weary squad members, "I am authorizing, under my discretionary authority, a 24-hour stand-down period! Effective immediately!"
A collective wave of relief, quickly masked by discipline, washed over the squad members. "Yes, Sir! Thank you, Captain!" they chorused, voices tight with suppressed fatigue and burgeoning hope for a real bed.
"Dismissed!" Pierre barked.
With a final nod that was more an acknowledgment than farewell, Pierre turned on his heel and strode swiftly into the bustling city streets, his imposing figure quickly swallowed by the evening crowd. The squad members visibly relaxed the moment he was out of sight, exchanging weary grins and stretching cramped muscles – all except Baron, who immediately broke ranks and strode towards Lucien, who had been waiting near the guard post.
The others exchanged knowing glances but offered no comment, quickly melting away towards barracks or homes, eager to capitalize on their unexpected reprieve.
"Lucien," Baron's voice was sharp, his expression clouded, "what is going on? What happened out there?" His mind was spinning. Though Captain Pierre had let Lucien off the hook unusually easily, there were too many questions. Scattered blades all over the battlefield, a Timberwolf corpse unlike the rest—it hadn't died from slicing damage, but from something far more destructive. Despite the charred terrain, Baron had spotted signs of elemental incineration. If he had noticed, there was no way a seasoned veteran like Pierre hadn't.
Lucien held up a hand, forestalling the barrage. "I promise, Baron, I will explain everything. But not here." He glanced around meaningfully at the passing guards and citizens. "Contact Viola. Tell her to come to my house the *second* she's dismissed. It's urgent. Critical."
Seeing the absolute seriousness in Lucien's eyes, Baron swallowed his questions. He pulled out a small, flat communication stone embedded in his uniform collar. Focusing his will, a brief pulse of light emanated from it – a coded message sent directly to Viola's own device. The reply was almost instantaneous; a soft chime and a faint green glow pulsed on the stone's surface. Baron decoded it swiftly. "She says 'Received! On my way!'"
The urgency in Viola's response mirrored their own. With dusk deepening and the clock ticking towards curfew, Lucien's summons and cryptic warning signaled something monumental. The two young men set off at a brisk pace through the increasingly crowded streets, the tension between them thick and unspoken.
Virtuina Residence – East End – 6:45 PM
Baron and Lucien arrived first. The familiar, dilapidated facade of the small house offered scant comfort. They climbed the creaking stairs to Elinora's room. She was propped up in bed, a threadbare shawl around her shoulders, her face lighting up with genuine warmth at the sight of Baron.
"Baron!" Her voice, though weak, held undeniable affection. "You're back! How did the Subjugation Corps evaluation go? Everything... alright?"
"Perfectly smooth, Aunt Elinora," Baron replied, forcing a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his worried eyes. He moved to her bedside, gently adjusting her shawl.
"They were impressed. Seems I might be leading patrols sooner rather than later." He kept his tone light, the lie a necessary kindness.
Before Elinora could ask more, the front door burst open downstairs.
"Wow! Lucien! What's the big emergency, calling us over so late—" Viola's voice, bright and slightly breathless, echoed up the stairwell.
Lucien moved like lightning. He was down the stairs in a flash, his hand clamping over Viola's mouth before she could finish her sentence or disturb Elinora further. "Mmph! Hey! Leggo...!" Viola protested, muffled against his palm, her fiery red hair bouncing with her struggles.
"Mother," Lucien called up, his voice strained but calm, "We're just going to chat downstairs for a bit. You rest." He bodily steered the spluttering Viola towards the small living area, Baron following closely, a concerned frown on his face. Baron paused at Elinora's doorway, offering her a final, reassuring smile before gently pulling the door mostly closed.
Through the gap, Elinora watched them go, her smile fading into a profound, melancholic tenderness. "They really are so close," she murmured to the empty room, her voice barely a whisper. "If only... I could keep watching them like this... forever." The loneliness in her eyes deepened as the door clicked softly shut.
Downstairs Living Area – Moments Later
The cramped space felt even smaller with the weight of impending revelation. Viola finally wrenched Lucien's hand away, planting her fists on her hips, her cheeks flushed. "Okay, Lucien! Spill it! What's this earth-shattering, couldn't-wait-until-tomorrow news? And why the muzzle treatment?" Despite her indignation, concern flickered beneath the surface.
Lucien took a deep breath, steeling himself. He met Baron's intense gaze, then Viola's expectant one. No preamble, no softening. The words dropped into the tense silence like stones into a still pond.
"I've Awakened."
Silence.
Absolute, stunned silence.
Viola's playful defiance vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again, forming silent words. She managed a strangled, "C-congratulations, Lucien..." The words sounded hollow, forced, her smile brittle and uncertain. The implications were too vast, too impossible, to process instantly.
Baron slowly lowered himself onto a rickety stool, the wood groaning in protest. He ran a hand over his close-cropped pale gold hair, his expression one of dawning, bewildered comprehension. "I... I suspected," he admitted, his voice rough. "After seeing the field... Pierre's questions... But hearing you say it..." He shook his head, the reality of a *late* Awakening, something utterly outside Cocoon City's understanding, settling heavily upon him. "It's... incredible. Unheard of."
Lucien watched their reactions, a flicker of disappointment warring with understanding. "You guys... I thought you'd be happier?"
"No!" Baron surged to his feet, crossing the small space in two strides. His large hand came down firmly, reassuringly, on Lucien's shoulder. "We are happy, Lucien! Truly! It's just... a shock. A wonderful shock!" His blue eyes burned with sincerity. "This changes everything! For you! For Elinora! Hope... real hope!" The mention of Lucien's mother grounded them all. Baron's grip tightened. "No matter when it happened, an Awakening is a gift. It means you can fight back, build a life, get Elinora the care she needs! This is cause for celebration!"
"Baron's right," Viola chimed in, her initial shock melting into genuine warmth. She punched Lucien lightly on the arm, a familiar gesture. "We're thrilled for you, you idiot! Just took us a second to reboot our brains, is all! Late bloomer!" Her grin, though still touched with awe, was back in place.
The knot of tension in Lucien's chest loosened slightly. Their support, their belief, was a tangible warmth against the chilling uncertainty of his power. "You two... and Elinora... are everything to me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I know... I *know* what your duties entail. Reporting unusual Awakenings, especially... this kind... is protocol." He met their eyes squarely, the gravity of his next words settling over them. "But I'm begging you. Keep this secret. For me. Because the reason for this Awakening... it's not normal. It's tied to something dangerous, something I don't fully understand." He paused. "And it's not that I don't trust you with the truth. It's that... even if I tried to tell you how it happened..." He gestured helplessly. "The system... it blocks it. The words just... dissolve. So, please. Trust me. Believe that I need this secrecy for now."
"Lucien," Baron said, his voice low and firm, cutting through Lucien's plea. He placed his other hand on Lucien's free shoulder, locking eyes with him. "You never need to beg. Your secret is ours. We swear it." There was no hesitation.
"Absolutely!" Viola added, placing her hand over Baron's on Lucien's shoulder. "Cross our hearts, hope to... well, hope the Primus doesn't smite us! "
Relief, profound and almost dizzying, washed over Lucien. The crushing weight of isolation lifted. He sagged slightly, the tension draining from his shoulders. "Thank you," he breathed, the words imbued with heartfelt gratitude.
He straightened up, the urgency returning. "The ability I Awoke is called 'Omni-Psychic'. And... my system interface... it's different." He grabbed a scrap of paper and a stub of pencil from the cluttered table. Quickly, he sketched the layout: the Name, Level, Skill, the perplexing Quality rating, the distinct Psyche stat, the scathing Evaluations, the Skills list. "It has more elements than what we were taught in the Academy. And... there's this voice. A cold, mechanical female voice. It gives notifications, warnings... instructions." He looked up at them. "Have you ever heard of anything like that? Any records? Rumors?"
Viola frowned, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Omni-Psychic...? No, never. Not even in the obscurest bestiary or Awakening chronicle." She shook her head. "And the interface... Baron?" She looked to her 'brother'.
Baron studied the sketch, his brow furrowed. "No. The Academy was adamant. While individual stats and skills vary, the fundamental structure of the system interface is universal. Standard categories: Name, Level, HP, Mana/Energy pool, Stats, Skills, Inventory. No 'Psyche' stat. No 'Evaluation' field. And definitely no... voice." He looked troubled. "This is unprecedented, Lucien. Completely outside known parameters."
Lucien sighed, the mystery deepening rather than resolving. "That's what I feared. Which brings me to the immediate problem." He tapped the paper where he'd written 'Daily Quest'. "My system forces these upon me. Daily. So far, both have been combat-oriented: kill specific monsters. The rewards..." He paused, knowing the impact. "...are substantial. Two Bron coins."
"Two Bron?!" Viola gasped, her eyes widening comically. Baron choked on air, coughing. The sheer monetary value momentarily eclipsed the strangeness of the quests. Two Bron was a small fortune, equivalent to a week's strenuous wages for a new Subjugation Corps recruit. For Lucien, scraping by on scavenging, it was transformative.
"But," Lucien continued, his voice turning grim, dousing their momentary shock, "these quests must be completed by midnight each day. And I only learned today... failure carries a penalty." He met their horrified gazes. "A punishment directly administered by the system."
The revelation landed like a physical blow. The cozy atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a chilling dread. "What... what kind of penalty?" Baron asked, his voice tight.
"Unknown. It deliberately withholds the details. Claims I lack 'permissions'," Lucien explained, the frustration evident. "I failed today's quest. I only killed seventeen Timberwolves." He gestured vaguely, encompassing his battered state. "The penalty triggers tonight. At midnight." He looked between them, the vulnerability he usually masked clear in his eyes. "Whatever it is... it could incapacitate me. It could be dangerous. I... I can't face it alone. Not knowing. Will you... will you stay? Please? Help me through whatever comes?"
"Of course we're staying!" Baron declared instantly, his protective instincts flaring. "Viola, request leave immediately. Full family emergency. We're not leaving his side tonight."
"Already on it!" Viola confirmed, her fingers flying over her own communication stone. Her usual exuberance was replaced by fierce determination. "Leave approved. Captain wasn't thrilled, but 'family emergency' shuts down most arguments. We're with you, Lucien. Whatever this system throws at you, we face it together."
"And tomorrow," Lucien added, a spark of his analytical mind cutting through the dread, "I need your help with the next daily quest. Not just for protection... but to test a theory." He leaned forward. "The quest requires *me* to eliminate the targets. But what if... what if *you* weaken them, and I deliver the final blow? Or if we fight together? Will the system still credit me? I need to understand its rules. To find loopholes, advantages... especially with this penalty hanging over failures."
"Say no more," Viola said, her earlier fire returning. "Consider us your personal monster-wrangling squad! We'll test every angle!"
"Exactly," Baron agreed. "Knowledge is power. Especially against... whatever this system is."
As the immediate strategy solidified, Baron finally voiced the question burning within him since the plains. "Lucien, back there... with the Timberwolves. That was you, wasn't it? All of it?" His gaze was intense, searching. "Just how strong... how *versatile*... is this 'Omni-Psychic'? What can you do?"
Lucien held his gaze, a flicker of the power he'd tapped into in that life-or-death struggle surfacing in his own emerald eyes. "Yes. It was me." His voice was quiet but held an undercurrent of steel. "I'm Level 16 now. Quality C." He paused, then slowly raised his right hand, palm open, towards the chipped ceramic mug on the table between them. He focused, not on brute force, but on precise, molecular disruption. A faint, almost invisible shimmer surrounded the mug.
Baron and Viola watched, transfixed.
Without a sound, without any visible force striking it, the mug simply... disintegrated. One second it was solid ceramic; the next, it collapsed inwards into a fine, uniform powder that settled onto the tabletop like gray snow. No explosion, no shattering – just instantaneous, silent dissolution.
"By the Primus..." Viola breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. Baron stared at the pile of dust, his mind struggling to reconcile the frail East End youth with the terrifying, precise power just displayed.
"Right now," Lucien continued, lowering his hand, the faint shimmer vanishing, "it feels... malleable. Like clay I can shape. Telekinesis, inducing emotions or states in monsters, erecting barriers... it responds to need, to will. And the Quality... it rose after the fight. From D to C." He met their astonished gazes. "That's why I need tomorrow. To explore its limits, its potential. With your help."
The implications were staggering. While both Baron and Viola were formidable in their own rights – Baron a focused Light Swordsman, Viola a potent but relatively indiscriminate Fire Affinity user – their abilities had defined paths and limitations. Lucien's power, however, seemed boundless, adaptable, terrifying in its potential for both precision and destruction. If he could truly master it...
Virtuina Residence – Lucien's Room – 9:30 PM onwards
The atmosphere in Lucien's small, book-cluttered room shifted from intense planning to a strained attempt at normalcy. Jokes were made, memories of easier times recalled, but the unspoken countdown to midnight hung heavy in the air, thickening with each passing minute. Baron had dragged a chair into the room, positioning himself near the door like a sentinel. Viola perched on the edge of Lucien's narrow bed, her usual restless energy subdued into a watchful stillness.
Lucien sat propped against his pillow, outwardly calm but inwardly a coiled spring. His eyes were fixed on the translucent system panel only he could see, dominated by the pulsating crimson digits of a countdown timer superimposed over the failed quest notification. The cold, female voice began its final, emotionless cadence in his mind:
WARNING: Daily Quest Failure Penalty Imminent.
Countdown: 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...
Penalty Engaged.
Violation: Incomplete Daily Task (Timberwolf Elimination).
Penalty: Sensory Deprivation - Visual. Duration: 10 Hours.
Administering... NOW.
The pronouncement "NOW" coincided with the clock striking midnight in the real world.
Instantly, irrevocably, the world vanished.
Not faded. Not dimmed. Vanished.
One moment Lucien was looking at the concerned faces of his friends illuminated by the guttering kerosene lamp; the next, he was plunged into an absolute, suffocating void. A blackness so complete it felt like a physical substance pressing against his eyeballs. Panic, pure and primal, surged – the terror of being buried alive, of ceasing to exist.
Then the pain hit.
It wasn't the aftermath of the wolf attack, nor the psychic strain. This was new. Agonizing. It erupted from within his eyes themselves, deep in the sockets, as if white-hot pokers were being slowly, deliberately driven backwards into his brain. It felt less like blindness and more like his eyes were being excised, torn out by some invisible, sadistic force. A raw, guttural scream tore from his throat, shattering the tense silence of the room.
"AAAAAAGH—!" The sound was pure, unadulterated agony. He instinctively clawed at his face, his body convulsing. "It's... happening!" he gasped out between ragged, pain-filled breaths, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "Penalty... visual deprivation... ten hours... but... gods... my eyes! It feels like... like they're being gouged out!"
"Lucien!" Viola's cry was laced with terror. She lunged forward, grabbing his flailing hands, preventing him from harming himself. Her own hands were icy cold. "Hold on! We're here!" Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over.
"Easy! Easy, brother!" Baron was instantly at the bedside, his strong hands gripping Lucien's shoulders, gently but firmly pushing him back against the pillows. His voice was a steady anchor in the storm of pain. "It's deprivation, Lucien! Your eyes are still there! It's the sense being blocked! Focus on that! It's horrific, but it's not permanent physical damage!" He grabbed the damp cloth Viola had prepared earlier, wringing it out with hands that trembled slightly despite his calm words. He pressed the cool compress gently over Lucien's tightly shut, pain-contorted eyelids. "This might help... just a little. Breathe. Focus on breathing."
Baron and Viola's presence, their hands on his, their voices surrounding him, became islands of desperate comfort in the ocean of blackness and agony. He clung to them, their physical contact a lifeline against the terrifying isolation the darkness imposed. He tried to focus on Baron's instructions, on the coolness of the cloth, but the pain was a ravening beast, gnawing at the roots of his consciousness, demanding all his attention.
Hours crawled by, measured only in the relentless, grinding agony. Baron remained steadfast, replacing the warming cloth with a fresh cool one, murmuring reassurances, his presence a solid bulwark. Viola never let go of Lucien's hand, her grip tight, her other hand occasionally brushing sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. She whispered stories, fragments of happier times, her voice a fragile thread of light in the consuming dark.
Yet, Lucien knew the terrible truth. The penalty wasn't just blindness. If it were merely darkness for ten hours, sleep would have been a refuge, a way to endure most of the sentence. But the unceasing, gouging pain made sleep an impossible dream. It was a deliberate torture, designed to force him to endure every excruciating minute of the deprivation fully conscious. Ten hours of unrelenting agony, trapped in sensory void.
"Don't... worry about me..." Lucien managed to rasp out during a brief lull where the pain plateaued at merely 'unbearable' instead of 'soul-rending'. Sweat plastered his hair to his scalp, his face pale and drawn even in the dim light his friends could see. "The pain... it's... lessening..." It was a lie, a thin veneer over the raw torment, spoken only to ease the helpless distress he could feel radiating from them. "Try to rest... yourselves... Tomorrow... we have... plans..." Each word was an effort.
"We stay," Baron stated, his voice thick with fatigue but unwavering. He shifted on the hard chair, trying to find a less uncomfortable position. "We see this through with you. To the last second."
His resolve was noble. His body, however, pushed to its own limits by days of Corps duty and the emotional strain, had other ideas. Not long after his declaration, a low, rhythmic rumbling began near the foot of the bed. Lucien, hypersensitive in his blindness, felt the vibrations through the mattress before the sound registered. Baron, leaning back against the wall, had succumbed. Deep, thunderous snores filled the small room, a stark, almost comical counterpoint to the profound suffering mere feet away.
Lucien's pain-twisted lips managed a faint, bitter ghost of a smile. *So much for solidarity.* Yet, the sheer normalcy of Baron's exhaustion-induced sleep was perversely comforting.
Viola, curled up beside Lucien, was also losing her battle against fatigue. Lucien felt her head, resting near his shoulder, nodding lower and lower like a wilting flower. Her breathing deepened, becoming slow and even. She was slipping under, her grip on his hand loosening slightly.
Lucien, attuned to her proximity despite the darkness, sensed the exact moment her consciousness faded. He carefully, slowly, shifted his free arm. Gently, with infinite care born of long familiarity and deep affection, he guided her head to rest more comfortably against his side, pillowed on the thin blanket. His hand, moving with unconscious tenderness, brushed through the fiery silk of her hair. For a fleeting moment, his fingers tangled in a strand, twirling it unconsciously around his finger, a small, instinctive gesture of connection in the void. Then, catching himself, he carefully withdrew his hand, settling it instead for a simple, protective touch on her head, a silent blessing in the dark.
The simple act, the warmth of her against him, anchored him momentarily. But the reprieve was brief. The agony within his skull, that relentless feeling of ocular violation, surged back with renewed fury. It was a vast, dark ocean, and he was adrift, drowning in it. Time lost all meaning, stretching into an eternity of suffering measured only by the ragged gasps he forced into his lungs and the thunderous symphony of Baron's snores.
His consciousness, battered by relentless pain and profound exhaustion, began to fray at the edges. The blackness seemed to swirl, patterns forming and dissolving in the nothingness. He fought it, clinging to the sensation of Viola's warmth, the sound of her breathing, the absurd rumble from the foot of the bed – anything to tether him to reality. But the weight was too great, the torment too deep. The edges of his awareness blurred, darkened further. The pain was still there, a constant, screaming backdrop, but his ability to consciously process it, to feel it with sharp clarity, began to dull, mercifully muted by the encroaching oblivion of utter mental and physical collapse. His last coherent thought was a desperate plea to the uncaring void: Let it end...
He sank, not into peaceful sleep, but into a deep, pain-haunted unconsciousness, a necessary escape from the unbearable present. The ten-hour sentence stretched endlessly before him, but for now, blessed nothingness claimed him.