Alazaar stood still for a long moment after Lucien finished speaking. The silence stretched, heavy with thought. His skull tilted slightly as if trying to see through Lucien rather than at him.
His mouth opened, but no words came. Then finally: "Is what you speak true?"
Lucien met his gaze without hesitation. "Yes."
"…Unbelievable," Alazaar murmured.
He turned and slowly paced away, gloved hands folding behind his back. The green glow in his eye sockets pulsed brighter.
"A world without magic… vast metal birds… towers that touch the sky…" he trailed off. "Even after a millennium of life, this—this is something I could never have conceived."
Lucien expected questions, but what came next overwhelmed even him. Alazaar's restraint evaporated. Queries flew, one after another—each more excited than the last. What did the buildings look like? What powered the horseless wagons? What is 'electricity'? What were these 'aircrafts'? Did humans survive without magic? How?
Lucien, as calmly as he could manage, answered. He described towering skyscrapers, the crackling hum of neon lights, cities that never slept. Machines that replaced horses. Phones, electricity, the internet, airplanes, trains.
For the first time since he began calling the crypts home, Lucien saw Alazaar not as a lich, or even a master of undeath—but as a scholar, a researcher, desperate for knowledge. Alazaar's hands twitched with the effort not to conjure parchment and start scribing every word.
Eventually, the line of questioning shifted.
"What of death?" Alazaar asked. "What did you see beyond?"
Lucien's expression turned reflective. "There was no light. Just... white. An endless white void. I was alone. Except for one thing. A system—it judged me. My life was measured, graded on a point system. I didn't ask questions. I just accepted it."
"A system?" Alazaar leaned forward, browless but clearly intrigued.
Lucien nodded. "It evaluated me. Assigned me points. Based on what, I can't say. Success? Failure? Fulfillment? It didn't explain. But with those points, I could… buy things. Skills. Traits. The powers I brought into this world."
He didn't mention how low his score had been. Or how little there was to redeem from the life he lived. That wasn't something Alazaar needed to know.
Alazaar absorbed this in silence.
Lucien added, "It was like a game, honestly. That's what we had—on Earth. 'Video games.' Worlds you could lose yourself in. Become a knight, a mage, a general. Even a sports manager or a famous hero."
"Simulated realities…" Alazaar whispered. "And none of it was real?"
Lucien smirked faintly. "They were real enough to make people feel something. Joy, sadness, purpose. That's more than most had."
Alazaar turned, skeletal jaw tightening as he processed the implications.
"No gods. No divine plan," he muttered. "Just systems. Loops. Calculated constructs."
Lucien's gaze grew sharper. "Which is why I think this—" he gestured to himself, the forge, the crypt "—is not coincidence. I think I was chosen for something. Or maybe… I took what no one else would dare."
Alazaar looked at him for a long time. Then, his tone shifted. Measured. Introspective.
"You trust me enough to share this."
Lucien nodded. "I do. I've lived here, trained here, studied under your nose. You haven't tried to bind me, kill me, or break me. You've helped. And if I'm to build a vessel worthy of the thing I summoned—I'll need you."
Alazaar tilted his head again, the fire in his eyes flickering brighter.
"I do not act without reason," he said. "And right now, I am intrigued beyond imagination."
He chuckled lowly. "A being from another world, reborn with forbidden power… I'd be a fool not to see where this goes."
The chamber fell silent again—but this time, it was the quiet before a storm of creation.
Lucien gripped the arms of his wheelchair.
"I will build that vessel. And I'll raise the name Vaelthorn to new heights."
Alazaar nodded once.
"Then let us begin."
Alazaar grew quiet. The green fire of his eyes flickered low, more ember than flame.
"For a long time," he said slowly, "I believed I had lived beyond fate's reach. That the world had no more stories for me—only silence and stagnation. I thought blessings were the stuff of myths, wasted on youth and heroes long dead."
He looked at Lucien. "But now, I wonder if finding you... taking you in... was the world's way of whispering that it hasn't given up on me just yet."
Lucien blinked, caught off guard.
A warmth stirred behind his chest. A rare, fragile thing.
He let out a small, genuine smile. "That makes two of us."
A moment passed. Then, Lucien tilted his head slightly.
"Alazaar... does this world have systems?"
Alazaar blinked. "Hmm. In a way, yes. But far different—and far inferior—to what you've described."
He began to explain. "People measure their abilities through ritual. Blood must be spilled onto parchment etched with a rune. The blood reveals one's level, class, and abilities. But traits remain unseen."
Lucien listened intently as Alazaar continued.
"Regions are mapped by monster levels. Most known territories record the power of local threats. If a beast appears stronger than the expected range, it's classified as an anomaly."
"Anomaly?" Lucien echoed.
"A single such creature can wipe out an entire region," Alazaar said. "Even flip kingdoms on their heads. The term might sound simple, but its consequences are grave."
Lucien looked at Alazaar for a beat. "So you're an anomaly?"
Alazaar chuckled, dry and amused. "Since my transformation… many would say so."
He glanced sideways. "And you?"
Lucien's eyes narrowed with thought. Then he gave a lopsided smile. "…Well, in my situation, I think we could both be classed as anomalies."
Alazaar tapped the edge of his chin. "If your… system judges all, I wonder—how would it measure me?"
Lucien raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "Honestly? You're overpowered, dude."
"...Dude?" Alazaar repeated, voice flat.
Lucien chuckled. "Just means you're ridiculously strong. Kind of a compliment."
"I see." Alazaar didn't sound convinced. "Language of another world. Curious."
"Everything about me is curious," Lucien said, half-joking.
Alazaar nodded. "That is not in dispute."
The two stood in thoughtful silence, the tension of revelation giving way to something new—direction.
Lucien's gaze sharpened. "If I'm going to create the vessel for that thing… I need power. Materials. Strength."
Alazaar's eyes flared faintly. "And you shall have it. We begin the hunt tomorrow."