Northern Frontier City of Plekhelm, Kingdom of Arcadia
Year 23,814 of the Cerulean Calendar
Corvin stood atop the wall separating the Noble District from the rest of Plekhelm, his mind racing with ideas.
Below him stretched a world he had only ever admired from a distance.
The Noble District.
A place where the wealthy lived, where the streets were clean, and where people could afford to throw away more food than Corvin ate in an entire week.
And tonight, he was finally going to see it for himself.
"Well, no point standing around."
Without wasting another second, Corvin dropped from the wall, landing on the other side with a quiet thud.
He straightened himself, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and looked around.
"Now this is something else."
The streets were almost completely deserted.
Only a handful of restaurants and high-end bars remained open at this late hour, their windows glowing warmly against the cold night. Through the glass, Corvin could see well-dressed men and women enjoying expensive meals, laughing over drinks, and talking as though they hadn't a care in the world.
There were no merchants shouting for customers.
No hungry children fighting over scraps.
No drunken arguments echoing through narrow alleyways.
Even the streets themselves seemed different.
Beautiful porcelain paving stretched beneath his feet, polished and maintained so carefully that Corvin could almost see his reflection in certain sections.
The buildings were magnificent, with carved stone pillars, decorative balconies, and enormous windows. Some even had gardens surrounded by iron fences, their flowers neatly arranged despite the approaching winter.
Compared to the slums, the difference was night and day.
"Bloody hell..."
Corvin slowly turned, taking everything in.
"Are we even living in the same city?"
He let out a quiet laugh.
For a moment, he almost forgot why he had come here.
Almost.
He continued down the quiet streets, keeping his hands in his pockets and doing his best to look like someone who belonged.
Which, considering his worn clothing and general appearance, was easier said than done.
Still, there was hardly anyone around to question him.
And then something caught his attention.
A statue.
Not just any statue.
Corvin stopped walking.
His eyes widened.
"No bloody way..."
Standing before him was an enormous stone monument depicting a warrior.
A name was engraved beneath it in golden letters.
**KENJI**
Even a slum rat like Corvin knew that name.
The Hero Kenji.
A legendary warrior born in the Kingdom of Arcadia, yet said to have come from another world.
The man who forced the Holy Blade into submission.
The hero who defeated the Four Heavenly Lords before slaying the Demon Lord himself.
And then, at the height of his legend, he disappeared.
No body was ever recovered.
No grave was ever built.
He simply vanished from history.
Some claimed he had returned to his original world. Others believed he had fallen in battle somewhere beyond the known continents.
But whatever the truth, one thing remained certain.
Kenji was a legend in every sense of the word.
And the statue made that perfectly clear.
Unlike the shining knights Corvin had seen depicted in old storybooks, Kenji wore battered mercenary armour.
His clothing was torn in places, and his armour carried countless marks from battles long forgotten.
His hands were encased in enormous gauntlets.
The very gauntlets said to have carved mountains.
Three blades hung from his waist, each different in shape and length.
Across his back rested a spear, an axe, and a bow.
Corvin tilted his head.
"How the hell did he carry all that?"
According to the stories, Kenji was a jack of all trades.
Yet calling him that almost seemed insulting.
He was said to have mastered every weapon he ever picked up.
Swords, spears, axes, bows, and even forms of combat that no one in Arcadia had ever witnessed before.
His fighting style was supposedly so strange that even experienced warriors struggled to understand it.
Corvin stepped closer.
There was something else about the statue.
Kenji's left arm.
It was clearly not human.
Its shape and structure differed from the rest of his body, with strange details carved into the stone.
Then there was his face.
His left eye remained closed, a large scar running across it.
Corvin stared at the statue for a long moment.
"Wonder what happened to you..."
"Admiring the old hero, are we?"
Corvin nearly jumped.
"Bloody hell!"
He turned sharply.
Standing beside him was an elderly man.
The stranger wore simple but well-maintained clothing, with a thick coat draped over his shoulders. His hair had long since turned grey, and the wrinkles covering his face suggested a life filled with more experiences than Corvin could begin to imagine.
Despite his age, he stood remarkably straight.
The old man chuckled.
"Apologies, young man. Didn't mean to frighten you."
"You didn't frighten me!"
"Of course not."
Corvin frowned.
The old man turned his attention towards the statue.
"Ah, Kenji. It's been quite some time."
He looked the monument up and down before shaking his head.
"This old statue doesn't do him justice."
Corvin raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
The old man glanced at him.
For a moment, he seemed surprised that someone had actually asked.
Then his expression brightened.
"Well, you see, I used to be a comrade of this very hero."
Corvin blinked.
"Eh?"
The old man continued, clearly enjoying himself.
"I may not look like much anymore, but once upon a time, I was even considered his rival."
Corvin's eyes lit up.
"FOR REAL?!"
The old man laughed.
"Quite real."
"You actually knew Kenji? The Kenji? The guy who killed the Demon Lord?"
"The very same."
Corvin immediately stepped closer.
"What was he like? Was he really that strong? Did he actually fight with all those weapons? And what happened to his arm?"
"Good heavens, one question at a time!"
The old man laughed again.
It had clearly been a long time since someone had shown such enthusiasm for his stories.
He looked up at the statue, his expression softening.
"In the early days, Kenji was ruthless. Unrelenting, even. He had the makings of a true hero, although I doubt anyone would have called him one back then."
Corvin listened closely.
"He was still a nameless mercenary, wandering from place to place with little more than his blade to guide him."
The old man paused.
"Our party first encountered him during our first real mission."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I remember it quite clearly. We were young, ambitious, and rather full of ourselves. We believed we were destined for greatness."
He shook his head.
"And then we met him."
Corvin leaned forward.
"What happened?"
"It was a wake-up call, to put it mildly."
The old man folded his arms.
"Kenji was around our age. In fact, he had begun his journey after us. Yet the difference between our abilities was enormous."
He looked towards the monument.
"We had trained for years, received proper instruction, and possessed talents that others could only dream of."
"And him?"
"He made us look like complete amateurs."
Corvin whistled.
"Damn..."
"Indeed."
The old man chuckled.
"At the time, I found it rather irritating."
Corvin laughed.
"So even back then he was a prodigy!"
He glanced back at Kenji.
"Must be great being born strong."
The old man burst into laughter.
"HA! If only!"
Corvin looked at him, confused.
"What?"
"That man was no prodigy, young lad. Nothing of the sort."
The old man's smile widened.
"Kenji was a monster."
Corvin stared at him.
"A monster?"
"Not in the way you're thinking."
The old man raised a finger.
"He trained until his hands bled and his body trembled. He pushed himself further than anyone I had ever met. Even when he could barely stand, he would find some way to improve."
His voice grew quieter.
"He wasn't blessed with extraordinary talent. He made himself extraordinary."
Corvin looked back at the statue.
The battered armour.
The countless weapons.
The scar across his eye.
Suddenly, those details seemed different.
"Now, I was a prodigy," the old man continued, sounding rather pleased with himself.
"One of the greatest of my generation, if I may say so."
Corvin grinned.
"Not very humble, are you?"
"Humility is overrated when you've earned the right to boast."
The two laughed.
"But despite my talent, the gap between Kenji and me remained enormous for many years."
Corvin scratched his head.
"Hold on."
"Hm?"
"If you were born strong and he wasn't, how did he become stronger than you?"
The old man looked at him.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"That's a very good question."
He gestured towards the base of the statue.
"Read the plaque."
Corvin lowered his gaze.
Beneath Kenji's name was a second inscription, carved into a golden plate.
The letters had been carefully preserved, untouched by the weather that had worn away parts of the surrounding stone.
Corvin leaned closer.
He began reading aloud.
"For I was no less than a boy with a dream."
He paused.
"Today, I stand as what all boys dream to be."
His eyes moved across the final line.
"Nothing is impossible when you put in the effort. You hear me!"
Corvin fell silent.
For a few moments, he simply stared at the words.
A boy with a dream.
Someone who had started with nothing extraordinary.
Someone who had made himself into a legend.
He looked up at Kenji once more.
"He really said that?"
The old man nodded.
"Insisted on having those exact words engraved beneath his statue."
Corvin laughed.
"Sounds like quite the character."
"Oh, you have no idea."
The old man looked towards the moon hanging above the quiet district.
For a moment, his expression became distant.
Then he sighed.
"Ah, would you look at the time."
He adjusted his coat.
"I'd best be going. My wife will kill me if I stay out any longer."
Corvin turned towards him.
"Already?"
"Unfortunately, even old heroes must answer to their wives."
The old man chuckled and began walking away.
Corvin watched him for a moment.
Then something occurred to him.
"WAIT!"
The old man stopped.
"Yes?"
Corvin cupped his hands around his mouth.
"THANK YOU FOR THE STORY, SIR!"
The old man smiled.
"You're quite welcome, young lad."
"BUT WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"
The stranger stood silently for a moment.
Then, without turning around, he answered.
"Lucien."
And continued walking.
Corvin froze.
"..."
His eyes widened.
"Wait."
He slowly turned his head.
Just behind Kenji's monument stood another statue.
No.
Not a statue.
An entire group of statues.
Five figures stood together upon an enormous stone platform.
The Hero Party.
The legendary group summoned from another world to save their own.
Corvin's gaze moved across the figures.
Lucien.
Lisa.
Dorian.
Gray.
Rose.
The Axe Hero.
The Healer.
The Strategist and Alchemist.
The Assassin.
And the Mage.
Five heroes whose names had survived generations.
Five individuals whose adventures had become the stuff of legend.
Corvin looked back towards the street.
The old man was already gone.
He turned towards the statues again.
Then back towards the street.
Then towards the statues.
"..."
"YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!"
His voice echoed through the otherwise peaceful Noble District.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog began barking.
Corvin hardly noticed.
He had just spent several minutes casually chatting with one of the greatest heroes in Arcadian history.
And he'd treated him like some random old man with too much time on his hands.
He stared down the empty street.
Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.
He looked back at Kenji's statue.
"A boy with a dream, huh?"
For a moment, Corvin imagined himself standing on a monument like that.
Not necessarily with the weapons.
Or the armour.
Or even the heroic expression.
Although he certainly wouldn't complain about any of those.
Just his name.
Corvin.
A name that people would remember.
He laughed quietly to himself.
"Well, suppose I've got some work to do."
With that, the young street rat turned away from the legendary heroes and continued deeper into the Noble District.
After all, he still had a thousand Vlorans to earn.
Corvin continued running through the Noble District, passing mansions so enormous that some occupied entire city blocks.
Their towering gates were decorated with gold, their gardens carefully maintained, and their windows glowed with the warm light of expensive chandeliers.
Some of these houses were large enough to fit two entire brothels inside, with room to spare.
And somehow, people actually lived in them.
"Why would anyone want to live like this? It seems so empty."
Corvin couldn't wrap his head around it.
What was the point of having so much space if you barely used any of it?
Back in the slums, families of six sometimes shared a single room. Meanwhile, the nobles had entire buildings to themselves.
"Rich people really are strange."
He shook his head and continued running.
Mansion after mansion passed him, each seemingly determined to outdo the last.
Some had enormous fountains in their courtyards. Others had gardens filled with flowers Corvin had never seen before. One particularly ridiculous estate even had a private pond with a small wooden bridge crossing over it.
"A bloody bridge? In your own garden?"
He laughed.
"What's next? A whole damn village?"
But his amusement quickly faded as he remembered why he was there.
One thousand Vlorans.
That was the prize waiting for him.
And if everything went according to plan, he'd be leaving this district a very wealthy young man.
Eventually, Corvin came to a skidding halt.
Before him stood a building far more modest than the surrounding mansions.
Although calling it modest was almost insulting.
It was still enormous.
Three floors of carefully constructed stone rose above the street, with tall windows running along its walls. Decorative pillars supported the entrance, and a polished wooden sign hung above the doors.
Unlike the extravagant homes surrounding it, the building appeared to have been designed with practicality in mind.
This was his destination.
The residence and workplace of the Alchemist.
By day, the ground floor operated as a clinic, treating patients from across Plekhelm and beyond.
By night, the upper floors served as the Alchemist's private quarters, while somewhere within the building lay his research and testing facilities.
Even Corvin had heard stories about this man.
People supposedly travelled from distant cities, sometimes even crossing entire kingdoms, just to receive treatment from him.
Some claimed he could cure illnesses that ordinary physicians considered hopeless.
Others whispered that his experiments bordered on the impossible.
Corvin didn't know how much of that was true.
And frankly, he didn't care.
"Right then. Let's see what you've got."
He approached the building.
The clinic was clearly closed for the night.
Its doors were locked, the curtains drawn, and not a single light shone through the ground-floor windows.
Corvin glanced towards the street.
Still empty.
The guards were probably occupied with the fires near the Noble District's entrance.
He grinned.
"Well, that's convenient."
He examined the building for a moment.
The front door looked sturdy.
The windows, however...
Corvin's grin widened.
"A window's an entrance if you ask me."
He glanced around one final time.
Nobody.
Perfect.
With that, he bent down and removed one of his worn boots.
He weighed it in his hand.
"Sorry about this."
Then he hurled it straight through the nearest window.
CRASH!
Glass shattered, scattering across the clinic floor.
The sound echoed through the deserted street.
Corvin stood perfectly still.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
Nothing happened.
He looked around.
"...Huh."
He shrugged.
"That was easy."
Hopping awkwardly on one leg, he climbed through the broken window, carefully avoiding the larger pieces of glass.
Once inside, he retrieved his boot, slipped it back on, and straightened himself.
"Right. Now where would I hide something worth a thousand Vlorans?"
He looked around.
The clinic was enormous.
Rows upon rows of wooden shelves lined the walls, each filled with bottles, jars, powders, and strange liquids.
Some were clear as water.
Others were deep crimson, violet, or an almost unnatural shade of green.
Labels covered nearly every container, written in neat handwriting.
Corvin picked up a small bottle.
He squinted at the label.
"Hydro... something... chloride?"
He turned it sideways.
"...What the fuck does that even mean?"
He put it back.
Nearby stood several examination beds, separated by curtains. Cabinets filled with medical instruments occupied the far wall, while large anatomical drawings hung beside shelves of carefully organised books.
The entire place smelled strange.
A mixture of herbs, medicine, and something sharp that made Corvin wrinkle his nose.
"How does anyone work in here?"
He wandered between the shelves, occasionally examining something that caught his attention.
There were dried plants sealed inside glass containers.
Strange crystals that seemed to glow faintly.
And a particularly unpleasant-looking jar containing something Corvin decided he was better off not identifying.
"Yeah, I'm not touching that."
Despite the countless valuable-looking objects surrounding him, he resisted the temptation to start stuffing his pockets.
He had a job to do.
And one thousand Vlorans was worth considerably more than a few bottles of medicine.
Eventually, he spotted a staircase near the back of the clinic.
"Ah, there we go."
He made his way towards it.
But as his foot touched the first step, something strange happened.
A brilliant blue light appeared beneath him.
Corvin stopped.
"Hm?"
He looked down.
An intricate circular pattern had appeared beneath his boot.
Lines and symbols intertwined across the floor, forming a beautiful design that glowed with a soft blue light.
A Magic Crest.
Although Corvin had absolutely no idea what he was looking at.
He crouched down.
"Ooooh."
The symbols shimmered.
He moved his foot slightly.
The light followed.
"That's pretty cool."
He tapped it with his boot.
Nothing happened.
"Wonder how much one of these costs."
He stood up.
"Maybe I'll buy myself one when I get those thousand Vlorans."
And with that, he continued upstairs.
Completely unaware that the Crest beneath his feet had just detected an intruder.
The second floor was...
Empty.
Corvin blinked.
"...What?"
He stepped into a large room.
There was almost nothing inside.
The walls were unfinished, wooden boards covered sections of the floor, and construction materials lay stacked in the corners.
Several windows had been boarded up.
A thick layer of dust covered everything.
"Seriously?"
He wandered into the next room.
More of the same.
Empty shelves.
Unfinished walls.
A few abandoned tools.
Nothing remotely resembling an important document.
He scratched his head.
"Well, that's disappointing."
The third floor wasn't much better.
Most of the rooms were completely empty, with only a handful of old pieces of furniture scattered throughout.
It was obvious that the upper floors were undergoing extensive repairs.
Corvin sighed.
"Great. Broke into a bloody construction site."
He leaned against a doorway.
"Where the hell does this guy keep his stuff?"
After searching a few more rooms and finding absolutely nothing useful, he decided to return downstairs.
"Maybe there's a secret room or something."
He laughed at his own suggestion.
"Wouldn't that be something?"
But the moment he reached the ground floor...
GRRRRRR...
A low grinding sound echoed through the clinic.
Corvin stopped.
"...Eh?"
He turned towards the noise.
One of the enormous bookshelves along the far wall had begun moving.
Slowly, it slid sideways, revealing a dark opening behind it.
Corvin stared.
"No way."
Something moved within the darkness.
Then two pairs of blue lights appeared.
Corvin's smile faded.
"...Oh."
Heavy footsteps echoed across the floor.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Two enormous figures emerged from the opening.
Their bodies were made entirely of stone, with thick limbs and broad shoulders. Strange symbols had been carved across their surfaces, glowing faintly with the same blue light Corvin had seen on the staircase.
Their faces were expressionless.
Only their eyes shone brightly in the darkness.
Corvin slowly raised both hands.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"
The figures continued approaching.
"Easy there, fellas."
He took a step backwards.
"Look, uh... it wasn't me."
Neither figure reacted.
"I was just passing by, you see. Heard something break and thought I'd come investigate."
Silence.
Corvin glanced towards the shattered window.
Then back at the stone figures.
"...Very concerning, all this crime."
The figures kept advancing.
"Right. Not the talkative type, I see."
He gave them an awkward smile.
"Sorry to bother you gentlemen. I'll just be on my way."
One of the stone figures suddenly lunged forward.
"OH, SHIT!"
Corvin ducked.
A massive stone fist passed over his head and struck the wall behind him.
BOOOOM!
The impact shook the room.
Stone cracked, dust fell from the ceiling, and the figure's fist became lodged in the damaged wall.
Corvin stared at the destruction.
"...Bloody hell."
He looked at the enormous stone arm.
Then at his own head.
"That would've hurt."
The second figure advanced.
Corvin didn't wait to see what it intended to do.
He dropped low and scrambled between its legs, narrowly avoiding its grasp.
"Excuse me!"
He emerged on the other side and stumbled to his feet.
Behind him, the first figure was still struggling to free its fist from the wall.
The second turned to pursue him.
Corvin looked towards the opening in the bookshelf.
Then back at the approaching figures.
A grin spread across his face.
"Well, don't mind if I do."
He darted towards the opening.
The stone figures followed.
But Corvin was already through.
Inside the passage, he spotted a metal lever protruding from the wall.
He grabbed it.
"BE SEEING YOU GUYS!"
And pulled.
GRRRRRRR!
The enormous bookshelf began sliding shut.
The stone figures approached, their glowing eyes fixed on him.
Corvin waved.
"Lovely meeting you!"
The opening narrowed.
Then...
THUD!
The bookshelf slammed into place.
Silence.
Corvin stood there for a moment.
Listening.
On the other side, something heavy struck the wall.
BOOM!
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Corvin flinched.
Another impact followed.
BOOM!
"...Right."
He took a few steps backwards.
"Best not stick around."
He turned.
And finally noticed where he was.
A staircase descended into the darkness beneath the building.
At its bottom, a faint greenish light flickered.
Corvin stared.
"...Now we're talking."
He began descending.
With every step, the air grew colder.
The medicinal smell of the clinic gradually disappeared, replaced by something metallic and unfamiliar.
A low humming sound filled the passage.
And then he reached the bottom.
Corvin stopped.
His mouth fell open.
"Holy..."
Before him stretched an enormous underground laboratory.
The chamber was far larger than he had expected, extending beneath the building and possibly even beyond its foundations.
Tall stone pillars supported the vaulted ceiling, their surfaces covered in intricate runes that glowed with a soft blue light.
Suspended between the pillars hung strange crystalline lamps, illuminating the room without any visible flame.
Long worktables occupied the centre of the chamber.
They were covered in glass containers, metal instruments, handwritten notes, and complicated devices whose purposes Corvin couldn't begin to imagine.
Some contained liquids that bubbled without being heated.
Others held crystals suspended inside transparent cylinders.
Copper pipes ran along the walls, connecting enormous tanks filled with colourful substances. Every so often, pressure escaped through small valves with a sharp hiss.
At the far end of the laboratory stood several large glass chambers.
Within them floated strange objects suspended in shimmering liquid.
One contained a metallic sphere covered in symbols.
Another held what appeared to be an artificial limb, its surface covered in tiny engraved patterns.
A third chamber was empty, although the liquid inside still glowed faintly.
Corvin slowly walked forward.
"What... is all this?"
Above the worktables, diagrams and sheets of parchment covered entire sections of the walls.
Some depicted the human body, with complicated lines tracing pathways through the muscles and organs.
Others displayed enormous circular patterns, each surrounded by hundreds of symbols and calculations.
Several appeared to be designs for Magic Crests.
In one corner, a mechanical apparatus slowly rotated around a floating crystal, its rings moving independently of one another.
Nearby, a collection of books had been stacked so high that Corvin wondered how they hadn't collapsed.
And everywhere he looked, there were papers.
Hundreds of them.
Perhaps thousands.
Documents covered the tables, filled cabinets, and spilled from open drawers.
Corvin stared at the sheer amount of writing.
Then he remembered his assignment.
A very important paper.
Likely well hidden.
He looked at the nearest table.
Then the next.
Then the dozens beyond them.
His expression slowly changed.
"..."
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."
He placed his hands on his hips.
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FIND ONE BLOODY PAPER IN ALL OF THIS?!"
Corvin stood in the middle of the enormous laboratory, staring at the seemingly endless collection of documents.
"One bloody paper..."
He sighed.
"Just one. That's all I'm asking for."
His eyes wandered across the nearest workstation before settling on an old book resting beneath a stack of yellowed parchment.
He picked it up.
The cover was worn, its edges frayed and covered in a thick layer of dust.
Introduction to Magic Crests.
Corvin raised an eyebrow.
"Huh."
He brushed the dust from the cover.
Judging by its condition, the book hadn't been touched in years.
Yet here it was, sitting among the Alchemist's research.
Corvin opened it.
The first few pages contained diagrams of strange symbols and circular patterns, accompanied by explanations he could barely understand.
"Maybe this will hel..."
BOOOOM!
The entire laboratory trembled.
Dust fell from the ceiling as another tremendous impact echoed from the staircase.
Corvin slowly looked up.
"...Or not."
He slammed the book shut.
"Suppose I'll read you later."
Without another thought, he tucked it into his clothing and continued searching.
His attention shifted towards a workstation near the centre of the laboratory.
Unlike the others, this one showed clear signs of recent use.
A half-empty cup of coffee sat beside a collection of scattered notes. Several books lay open, and a quill rested beside an unfinished calculation.
Corvin approached.
"Well, someone's been busy."
He glanced at the coffee.
"Probably tastes like shit by now."
Then he noticed the wall behind the desk.
Several sheets of parchment had been pinned across it, connected by lines of ink and accompanied by complicated diagrams.
At the centre was a large heading.
EXPERIMENTAL
ADAPTABLE BODY ENHANCEMENT CREST
NOBLE TO LEGENDARY RANK
Beneath it, several sections had been deliberately blacked out.
REDACTED
Corvin leaned closer.
"Adaptable... body enhancement?"
He scratched his head.
"Whatever that means."
His eyes moved further down.
ALL TEST SUBJECTS HAVE BEEN INCOMPATIBLE.
Corvin blinked.
"Huh."
He read the heading again.
Then remembered Jorken's instructions.
A new Magic Crest prototype.
Noble Class.
Body enhancement.
His eyes widened.
"Well, I'll be damned."
A grin spread across his face.
"Seems like the stuff!"
He immediately began pulling the papers from the wall.
One after another, he removed the diagrams, notes, and calculations, folding them as neatly as his hurried hands allowed.
"Right, right, right..."
He gathered the documents against his chest.
"Now where the hell am I supposed to put all this shit?"
He looked around.
To his left sat a large leather bag.
It was old but sturdy, with reinforced straps and several compartments.
And judging by its shape, something was already inside.
Corvin approached.
He opened it.
"...Huh."
There was something wrapped in cloth.
Something with an oddly familiar shape.
"Human?"
He tilted his head.
"...Maybe."
He stared at it for another second.
Then shrugged.
"Not my problem."
He emptied the bag onto the floor, leaving its previous contents in an untidy heap.
Whatever they were, they could wait.
He retrieved the old book, opened it, and carefully placed the folded documents between its pages.
Then he slipped the book into the bag.
"Perfect!"
He swung the strap over his shoulder.
"One down."
His grin widened.
"Now for the main target."
He returned to the workstation and began searching.
He examined the scattered papers.
Nothing.
He checked beneath the books.
Nothing.
He lifted the coffee cup.
Still nothing.
"Oh, well, just great."
He opened the desk drawer.
Inside were several loose pages, a collection of writing instruments, and a small notebook.
Corvin picked up the notebook.
"Lizards... regeneration..."
He flipped through a few pages.
"Something about growing limbs back?"
He frowned.
"Why the hell is this guy so interested in lizards?"
He tossed the notebook aside.
"Not what I'm looking for."
Another distant impact echoed through the laboratory.
BOOM!
Corvin glanced towards the staircase.
The stone figures were still trying to get through.
"Persistent bastards."
He returned to his search.
His attention shifted towards the enormous glass containers lining the far wall.
One held an artificial limb.
Corvin approached it.
The limb floated silently within a pale liquid, its surface covered in intricate markings.
He stared.
"Whoa..."
Its shape reminded him of something.
Something he'd seen only a short while ago.
"Looks just like the hero's arm."
Kenji.
The legendary warrior's strange left arm.
Corvin leaned closer to the glass.
"Wonder if it's the same thing."
He imagined himself with an arm like that.
Perhaps one capable of crushing stone.
Or lifting enormous weapons.
"Maybe I'll get myself one someday."
He paused.
Then looked down at his perfectly ordinary arms.
"...Actually, I'd rather not lose a limb."
He stepped away.
Further into the laboratory stood an operating table.
Something lay upon it.
Corvin approached cautiously.
At first glance, it resembled a person.
But the closer he got, the less certain he became.
It was a doll.
At least, he thought it was.
Its body possessed human proportions, yet something about its appearance was unmistakably artificial.
The joints seemed too precise.
The skin too smooth.
And its expression...
Corvin couldn't quite explain it.
It looked human.
But it also didn't.
"...That's creepy."
He leaned forward.
"Are you supposed to be alive?"
No response.
Corvin waved a hand in front of its face.
Nothing.
"Right. Good talk."
He straightened.
Another impact echoed from above.
BOOOOM!
Corvin flinched.
"Ah, shit!"
He glanced towards the staircase.
He was running out of time.
He needed to find that document.
Now.
His eyes darted across the room.
Tables.
Cabinets.
Shelves.
Glass containers.
And then...
He saw it.
A small metal safe tucked beneath one of the workstations.
Corvin froze.
"..."
He stared.
Then slowly brought a hand to his forehead.
"Of fucking course."
He hurried towards it.
"You absolute dumbass!"
He grabbed the safe.
It was heavier than expected.
"Where else would someone keep something important?"
He tried opening it.
Locked.
Naturally.
Corvin examined it for a moment.
Then shrugged.
"Well, that's a problem for later."
He shoved the entire safe into his bag.
The weight nearly pulled him sideways.
"Bloody hell!"
He adjusted the strap.
"What's this thing made of?"
With the safe secured, he returned to the main workstation.
He grabbed every remaining document he could find and stuffed them into the bag.
Research notes.
Loose calculations.
Unfinished diagrams.
Anything that looked remotely important.
"Better safe than sorry."
He closed the bag.
"There."
He looked around the laboratory.
"One thousand Vlorans, here I come."
Then...
BOOOOOOM!
The entire room shook.
Corvin spun around.
The reinforced bookshelf at the top of the staircase had been torn from its position.
It came crashing down with tremendous force, sending dust and splintered wood across the laboratory entrance.
Corvin barely had time to react.
He stumbled backwards as debris scattered across the floor.
"WHAT THE FU..."
A tired voice echoed through the chamber.
"And I thought you seemed like such a good kid."
Corvin froze.
That voice.
He knew that voice.
From the settling dust emerged an elderly man.
His clothes were slightly dishevelled, and a thin layer of dust covered his shoulders.
He calmly brushed it from one wrinkled hand.
Then looked towards Corvin.
The old man from the statue.
Lucien.
Corvin stared.
"...You?"
The old man sighed.
"Really, young man. Breaking into someone's home?"
He glanced around the laboratory.
"And making such a mess of the place."
Corvin opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
The old man shook his head.
"Disappointing."
Corvin tried to move.
But before he could properly react, the old man was already upon him.
A sudden kick struck his ribs.
The impact sent Corvin flying backwards.
CRAAASH!
He collided with one of the enormous glass containers.
The chamber shattered around him.
Glass scattered across the floor as Corvin fell among the broken pieces.
For several seconds, he couldn't move.
His back burned.
His face stung.
Every breath sent pain through his chest.
He tried to inhale.
His body refused.
Then he coughed.
Blood stained his hand.
"...Fuck..."
He struggled to sit upright.
His vision blurred.
The laboratory seemed to tilt around him.
Across the room, Lucien approached.
Slowly.
Calmly.
As though he were dealing with nothing more than a troublesome child.
Corvin looked up.
His amethyst eyes met the old man's gaze.
Two emotions shone through them.
Hope.
And the desperate alertness of prey that knew it was being hunted.
Lucien stopped.
For a moment, his expression changed.
Something about the boy's eyes had stirred an old memory.
"...You know."
He looked down at Corvin.
"That look reminds me of someone."
Corvin struggled to breathe.
Lucien continued.
"Kenji."
The name made Corvin's eyes widen slightly.
"He gave me that same look once."
The old man's expression grew distant.
"After I took the love of his life."
Silence followed.
Then Lucien gave a quiet, humourless chuckle.
"And yet, nothing ever came of it."
He looked down at the injured boy.
"You cannot begin to understand the trouble you've gotten yourself into, kid."
Corvin's fingers tightened against the floor.
Lucien's voice hardened.
"You should've stayed in the slums where you belong."
Corvin lowered his head.
His breathing was uneven.
His body trembled.
But his eyes were moving.
Across the tables.
The cabinets.
The shattered glass.
The staircase.
Every possible escape.
Every possible distraction.
Anything.
He needed something.
Anything.
And then his gaze settled on the broken container beside him.
Inside lay a large glassy orb.
Corvin stared.
An idea formed.
A terrible idea.
Probably the stupidest idea he'd had all night.
But it was an idea.
He slowly raised his head.
"...Hey."
Lucien stopped.
"Hm?"
Corvin pointed towards the shattered container.
"Do you..."
He coughed.
"...Do you wanna know what that was labelled as?"
Lucien glanced towards the broken glass.
Then back at the boy.
He seemed almost amused.
"Go on."
Corvin's lips curled into a sly grin.
"Philosopher's Stone."
He grabbed the orb.
And threw it.
Lucien's expression changed instantly.
His arms rose in anticipation.
For a brief moment, the old hero prepared himself for the unimaginable power associated with such an object.
The orb struck him.
Bonk.
Then bounced harmlessly onto the floor.
Silence.
Lucien blinked.
He looked down at the orb.
Then towards the shattered container.
A small label remained attached to its base.
LARGE MANA STONE.
"..."
Lucien slowly closed his eyes.
"Goddamn rat."
He looked up.
Corvin was gone.
***
"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!"
Corvin sprinted up the staircase.
Or at least, he tried to.
His legs felt like they were made of lead.
His chest burned with every breath.
The bag bounced painfully against his side, its weight threatening to drag him backwards.
But he kept moving.
"I'M DEAD!"
He stumbled.
Caught himself.
And continued.
"I'M SO FUCKING DEAD!"
He reached the top of the staircase.
The two stone figures lay broken across the floor.
Their enormous bodies had been reduced to scattered fragments.
Corvin stared for half a second.
"...Oh, that's reassuring."
He hurried past them.
"I don't wanna die like this!"
His breathing grew increasingly ragged.
"I haven't even paid Aurora back!"
He emerged into the clinic.
The broken window was still there.
Moonlight spilled across the floor.
He rushed towards the counter and threw himself behind it.
Then he waited.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
Every breath hurt.
He pressed a hand against his chest.
"Come on..."
He listened.
Nothing.
Then...
BOOM!
A tremendous sound echoed through the building.
Lucien appeared in the centre of the clinic.
Corvin immediately covered his mouth.
The old man looked around.
His expression was calm.
Almost impressed.
"The kid's better than I gave him credit for."
He glanced towards the shattered window.
Then towards the empty clinic.
"Hm."
After a moment, he walked towards the opening.
He stepped outside.
Another tremendous boom echoed through the night.
And then...
Silence.
Corvin remained perfectly still.
One second.
Five.
Ten.
Nothing happened.
He slowly lowered his hand.
"...Shit."
He leaned against the counter.
"I can finally breathe easy..."
A violent cough interrupted him.
He pressed a hand against his mouth.
When he pulled it away, there was blood.
"...Or not."
He stared at his trembling hand.
The pain was getting worse.
Much worse.
Whatever excitement had carried him through the laboratory was beginning to fade.
And without it, his body was finally making its condition known.
His ribs hurt.
His back burned.
His breathing was shallow.
And every movement sent another wave of pain through him.
"...I've gotta get help."
He tried standing.
His legs buckled.
"Come on..."
He grabbed the edge of the counter.
Pulled himself upright.
And nearly collapsed again.
"Move, damn it."
His body barely listened.
But eventually, he managed to stand.
He dragged himself towards the broken window.
Outside, the Noble District remained eerily quiet.
Corvin looked towards the distant gate.
The guards had probably dealt with the earlier disturbances by now.
He needed another distraction.
One final diversion.
His trembling fingers searched his pocket.
Eventually, he found it.
His last match.
Corvin stared at the small wooden stick.
"...Well."
A faint grin appeared on his face.
"Here goes nothing."
He struck the match.
A tiny flame flickered to life.
For a brief moment, its warm glow reflected in his amethyst eyes.
Then he tossed it towards the flammable materials near the clinic.
And ran.
Behind him, the fire began spreading.
Corvin didn't stop to admire it.
Not this time.
He had more important things to worry about.
Like staying alive.
He forced himself into a sprint.
Past the expensive restaurants.
Past the enormous mansions.
Past the empty streets he'd admired only a short while ago.
Everything blurred together.
His body begged him to stop.
His lungs burned.
His legs trembled.
But he kept running.
"Come on..."
He stumbled.
"Come on..."
He caught himself against a wall.
"Just a little further..."
Behind him, distant shouting began filling the streets.
The guards had noticed the fire.
Good.
That was good.
He just needed to get out.
Eventually, he reached the wall separating the Noble District from the rest of Plekhelm.
Corvin looked up.
It seemed much taller than before.
"...You've gotta be kidding me."
He swallowed.
Then began climbing.
Every movement hurt.
His arms shook as he pulled himself higher.
His breathing became increasingly uneven.
Below him, guards hurried towards the disturbance, their voices echoing through the streets.
Corvin forced himself onward.
One hand.
One foothold.
Then another.
Eventually, he reached the top.
He collapsed against the stone for a moment.
His vision swam.
The city stretched beneath him.
Plekhelm.
His home.
He had never been so relieved to see its filthy rooftops.
"...Almost."
He began climbing down the other side.
But halfway down, his fingers slipped.
His exhausted body could no longer support his weight.
"...Oh."
He fell.
THUD!
Corvin struck the ground.
For a moment, everything went white.
Then the pain returned.
His back screamed.
His chest tightened.
He coughed again.
More blood.
He lay there, staring up at the night sky.
The moon hung silently above him.
"...Fuck..."
His eyes began closing.
No.
He couldn't sleep.
Not here.
Not now.
If he stopped, it was over.
He knew that.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew it.
So he rolled onto his side.
Pushed himself up.
And stood.
Barely.
"...Aurora."
The name escaped his lips.
Of course.
Aurora.
He knew where to go.
He always knew where to go.
And with that final thought keeping him moving, Corvin began running again.
*
The streets of Plekhelm passed in a blur.
He stumbled through the red-light district, barely noticing the drunken laughter spilling from its taverns.
He passed through the merchant district, where the stalls had long since closed for the night.
Then the slums.
His slums.
The narrow streets he knew better than anyone.
The familiar buildings.
The broken roads.
The places where he'd spent the last five years surviving.
But tonight, even these familiar streets seemed endless.
His vision grew darker around the edges.
His footsteps became uneven.
Several times, he nearly fell.
Yet somehow, he kept moving.
Past the slums.
Into the residential district.
Towards a house he knew almost as well as his own shelter.
He'd been there a hundred times.
Perhaps more.
He knew the garden.
The roof.
The windows.
And exactly which room belonged to Aurora.
Corvin reached the house.
He stopped beneath the second-floor window.
For a moment, he simply stared.
"...There."
His voice was barely audible.
He approached the wall.
His hands trembled.
His legs threatened to give out.
But he began climbing.
He didn't think about where to place his feet.
He didn't need to.
He'd climbed this house so many times that his body remembered the route even when his mind could barely focus.
One movement after another.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He reached the roof beneath Aurora's window.
His fingers gripped the edge.
He pulled himself up.
And crawled towards the glass.
Inside, the room was dark.
Corvin raised a trembling hand.
Knock.
Knock.
"...Aurora..."
His voice came out as little more than a whisper.
He tried knocking again.
Knock.
"...Hey..."
His forehead rested against the window.
The bag slipped from his shoulder.
His strength was gone.
Completely gone.
He tried keeping his eyes open.
But the darkness was becoming impossible to resist.
"...I..."
He swallowed.
"...I need..."
The words never came.
His eyes closed.
And Corvin collapsed against the window.
For the first time that night, the young street rat finally stopped running.
---
Fin