The sun arises. A grey half-light clung to the Citadel, as though the sun itself hesitated to shine upon a world now burned by devils.
The Citadel quiets after Nero's announcement. Training assignments are listed, panic softens into structure, and scattered groups begin gathering equipment and space.
Lucius stands alone near a broken pillar, fingers curled tightly around the hilt of a blade he barely knows how to use. His breathing is shallow, controlled—but eyes remain storm-dark.
Footsteps approach, firm but not threatening. Not ordering. Not pitying. Simply present.
He stops beside him—not too close, not too distant—matching Lucius' silence rather than intruding on it.
Rowan (gentle, steady): "You lost more than a home today." Lucius doesn't reply at first. He stares forward, jaw clenched.
Lucius: "My family. My city. My future."
He exhales. "What's left after that?"
Rowan turns his head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes.
Rowan: "A reason."
Pause—soft, sincere.
"The moment you stop losing one, you start building another."
Lucius finally looks up. Not comforted, but... seen.
And Rowan smiles—the first warm expression in this cold aftermath.
Rowan: "I know how it feels. I lost my elder brother three winters ago—bandits."
His voice doesn't break, but the memory still aches beneath it.
"I didn't know what to do with the anger. So I learned to use it."
Lucius lowers his gaze, fighting the tremor in his breath.
Lucius: "Anger doesn't bring anyone back."
Rowan: "No. But strength can stop the next grave from being dug."
He extends a hand—no force, no urgency.
"Fight with me. Learn beside me."
Half-smile.
"You look like someone who needs a sword pointed in the right direction."
Lucius' eyes soften—still grieving, but something shifts. Hope? Purpose? A reason to stand? He takes Rowan's hand.
Just firmly enough that Rowan nods with unspoken respect.
Lucius: "Then stand with me. I don't know what I'll become... but I won't die kneeling." Rowan laughs under his breath—not mocking, but impressed.
Rowan: "Good. I'd hate to team up with someone boring."
Lucius cracks the faintest ghost of a smile— tiny, wounded, real. The two boys walk toward the training ground side by side joined by MichIael .
They walk towards Nero .Nero stands before them in the dim war-tent—lamps flickering, parchment maps pinned with crimson markers, the scent of iron and incense sticking to the air. Lucius : " If I or if we wanted to become an akari , how can we become ... like you?
Nero smiling slowly , Nero folds his cloak, revealing the faint golden tattoo across his forearm—the mark of an Akari. He finally speaks,
Michael (soft, cautious): "Akari... you said that word before. What are they truly?"
"An Akari is not merely a soldier, Not a mage, Not a swordsman." (He taps the glowing mark on his hand.) An Akari is a wielder of spirit powers.
Nero: "To become Akari, you must awaken your Inner Flame" . Lucius: "How do we awaken it?"
Nero: "Three pillars. Without them, you will die in the attempt." He raises three fingers.
"A cause worth dying for.
Weak hearts do not spark."
Lucius flinches—his parents' faces flash in his mind.
"Your spirit must not overpower your body.
Strength without restraint leads to corruption—and corruption leads to becoming devil-like." Michael swallows hard. Rowan's eyes narrow—focused.
"To ignite the soul flame, one must sacrifice something irreversible.
Fear, innocence, comfort... or someone they loved."
That lands like a hammer.
Lucius grips his sleeve so tight his knuckles pale.
Rowan (quiet): "And once awakened... how strong can an Akari become?". Nero's expression darkens—both warning and promise.
Nero :" They are not your pets but your partners. A spirit is the one who grant akari the powers and abilities . You can summon your spirits to fight alongside the enemy."
Lucius: " How do those spirits really look like" , " Those look like magical beast , angels , or maybe past humans which is very rare" "Can they talk" "No".
Nero: "You will feel it in your thoughts. In your anger. In the moments where fear whispers that surrender would be easier"
Michael: "Can we summon spirits?"
Lucius' fingers curl slightly at his side. Nero notices.
Nero (exhaling) :"You may summon your spirit," Nero says, "and it may walk beside you in human form, lending its strength, its abilities, its nature.""
"There is another state," Nero says, after a moment. "One spoken of rarely. Not because it is forbidden... but because it is dangerous."
Silence.
"In moments where death is certain—where the body fails but the will refuses—an Akari may cross a line that cannot be crossed deliberately."
His eyes narrow, not warning, but remembering.
"You do not summon the spirit then."
"You become it."
The words land heavily, like something ancient settling into place.
"Your body transforms—not into madness, not into loss—but into the true shape of the power that chose you."
"You remain conscious. You remain yourself."
"But for a few hours—no more—you bear the full weight of that existence."
"The spirit did not choose you because you were ready."
"It chose you because one day... you would have to be."
The torches crackle.
And for the first time since the sky tore open, no one speaks—not because they are afraid, but because somewhere deep inside, they already know:
Whatever comes next will not be as expected.