Alex Seclair: Master of Vengeance

Echoes of blood and light

The chilled evening breeze brushed Carlos’ face as he stood at the steps outside the Coast Wesley Central Police Station, trying to breathe through the paranoia storming inside him. 

Before he could fully take a step forward, a flicker blinked across his vision—blue, digital, and fluid. The revenge system returned.

> [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

Congratulations Host!

Task 001:  Bank Robbery Interception – COMPLETED

30 System Bronze Coins awarded

Access granted to Stat Shop Tier 1 (Skills | Tools | Combat Enhancers | Identity Kits)

Carlos watched as translucent panels floated before his eyes: items and skills with cryptic names like Phase Reflex, ShadowGrip Blade, Obscura Mask, and more. 

The notification faded as quickly as it appeared but its weight stayed with him. Not one to ignore instinct, he acted quickly. 

Using part of the money he’d withdrawn from the bank, he booked a stay at a third-class inn on the eastern outskirts of Coast Wesley—far enough to not be traced easily. 

The room was modest: a creaky fan above, walls laced with peeling paint, and a bed that threatened to squeal at the slightest movement. Still, it was safe—for now.

Carlos pulled the curtains shut and locked the door, then sat on the bed, staring into the glow of his cracked phone. His face was stone cold, but inside felt like a whirlwind.

He wasn't surprised that not a single media outlet had reported the bank incident. Of course not. Men like him, from the dirt, the margins, the shadows—were never heroes. 

They were scapegoats, always positioned for ridicule and mockery without a single appraisal.

But while scrolling idly, a notification popped from a live broadcast platform.

> LIVE: Lily Evans 

Topic: “A REAL-LIFE HERO! I saw him with my own eyes!”

Carlos furrowed his brows and tapped on it. And there she was, Lily Evans, the girl from outside the bank. 

The only one who had approached him with genuine gratitude, before everything spiraled. Her auburn curls bounced as she spoke excitedly while her eyes shimmered.

“He wasn’t just brave, he was… something else. Not even the security or police had dared his kind of attempt. But this man handled five armed robbers on his own! I saw him. If you're watching this and you know who he is, please thank him. He saved lives.” Lily announced excitedly.

The comment section blew up.

> Who is he?

Is this real or scripted?

Show his face!

Cap until proven otherwise.

But she shook her head with a smile. 

“I wish I had his name. I tried to ask. He just nodded and walked away. But mark my words—if I ever see him again, I’ll find out who he really is.”

Carlos heaved a sigh of relief after she was unable to reveal his identity. He’d just bought puzzles that weren’t completely his, he wasn’t about to allow his identity to give way for more hitches.

That night, he fell into a much needed sleep while staring at the ceiling, having smiled at the fulfilling memories from the day's attempt. But peace didn’t last long.

Darkness clouded his mind, then gave way to a recurring dream—the same one that haunted him since he was twelve. Only this time, it was clearer.

Two newborns lay in separate cradles. A young woman with trembling hands hesitated before switching their blankets. Her face was grim as her movements panicked. One baby bore a strange mark on the lower back—an insignia shaped like an eclipse encased in thorns.

Carlos woke up suddenly, drenched in sweat, breath caught in his throat. The dream wasn't just a nightmare. It was a memory.

The woman in his dream was a replica and the younger version of Beatrice, his late mother. 

“Could she have…” he almost said in his thought. Suddenly he felt a tingling by the left side of his back.

He had touched the area and jumped out of bed— staggering toward the mirror. 

With shaky hands, he pulled up the hem of his shirt and twisted to glimpse the lower left of his back.

And there it was, the mark. Subtle, but unmistakable. An eclipse surrounded by delicate thornlike curls—exactly as he saw in the dream.

Just as he stared, the mark glowed faintly more, a soft crimson shimmer pulsating from his skin like the reflection of distant fire.

“What the hell…?” he muttered as confusion clawed at him. He grabbed the edges of the sink for balance while his heart thud.

Was he switched at birth?

What did the mark mean?

Was it… a symbol?

He waited, hoping the system would resurface and maybe grant him some answers. But it didn't.

********************

A woman stood still—tall, regal, her silvery robe floating around her like mist in a chamber, heavy with incense and old mysteries. 

Her back was turned, veiled by a waterfall of snow-white hair that reached her waist.

Behind her was a man kowtowed further away, shouldered and poised, with a blade strapped to his back. His name was Bruce, the loyal butler of the most powerful Empire in the world.

"The heir has awakened," she said at last, her voice quiet yet thunderous. 

"The mark has flared in the city’s heart.”

Bruce, raised his head and widened his eyes. 

"The lost child… in Coast Wesley?" He asked in awe.

She turned slightly, enough for the faint profile of her ageless face to glint beneath the soft torchlight.

"The child carries the royal mark—Ecliptus Seclair. Switched as an infant. Hidden in plain sight and protected by fate. You must find him. It is your duty."

"Yes, White Priestess." He bowed in response.

With a wave of her hand, she conjured a glowing pendant, the Seclair Heirloom and held it out toward him. The symbol on it matched the one etched on his back.

"This will guide you. The moment it glows near his presence, you will know. But beware, for those who erased his identity may still be watching."

Bruce stood while maintaining to bow his head.

 "I’ll gather my men. The Seclair bloodline will be restored." He declared, bowed and turned to depart from the chamber.