2026-11-04 14:04:30Driven by an instinct she could not control, Cynthia took a slow step forward.
"Stay back, Cynthia," Garrick warned coldly, not even glancing at her. "We don't know if that rogue beggar laced it with dark magic to poison our trade."
Cynthia didn't listen. Her mind was in a daze, pulled forward by an invisible tether that tugged directly at the core inside her chest.
She reached her trembling hand out, her pale fingers hovering above the stone for a fraction of a second before her fingertips made contact with the smooth, warm surface.
The moment her skin touched the golden briquette, a shockwave rippled through her soul.
The agonizing, jagged burning that had been tearing through her meridians instantly vanished. The wild, thrashing core inside her chest went dead silent, curling up and purring in sweet, peaceful contentment.
It was a gentle, familiar warmth that wrapped around her heart like a soft woolen blanket on a freezing night.
Cynthia froze, all the air rushing out of her lungs in one ragged gasp. Her eyes widened in pure, unadulterated horror as her hand began to tremble violently against the stone.
She knew this warmth. She knew this exact frequency better than she knew her own pulse.
For five years, when her broken core had left her weeping in the dark, this exact same soothing current had flowed into her back through rough, calloused hands.
Every night, Ethan had knelt beside her bed in his thin rags, shivering until his lips turned purple, feeding her this exact pure light just so she could sleep without pain.
No... this is impossible, Cynthia screamed inside her head, her knees nearly buckling beneath her heavy gown. Ethan is dead! I watched the guards drag him away with shattered hands! He was thrown into the Outer Wastes without a coat!
Yet the stone beneath her fingers pulsed again, gentle and pure, matching the cadence of the boy who had loved her more than his own life.
"What's wrong with you?" Garrick’s harsh voice cut through her thoughts like a butcher's cleaver.
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away from the stone, his brow furrowing with deep irritation.
"Why are you staring at that rock like you've seen a ghost?" Garrick sneered, letting go of her wrist with a rough push. "Did you lose your mind from the fever?"
Cynthia stumbled back, clutching her wrist against her chest as her heart hammered like a trapped bird.
"Garrick..." Cynthia whispered, her voice cracking with terror. "The guards you sent to the Outer Wastes... did they... did they bring back proof? Did they bring back his body?"
Garrick scoffed, waving his hand with utter disgust.
"Why would I care about a dead beggar's bones?" Garrick laughed, though a small twitch in his left eye betrayed his irritation. "Those two lazy fools probably took their gold coins and spent them in the lower brothels. No one survives the sub-zero gale for two hours, let alone three days."
He stepped closer to her, his shadow towering over her trembling frame as his voice dropped to a threatening hiss.
"Stop worrying about dead trash and focus on tomorrow," Garrick warned, poking a finger hard against her collarbone. "If you don't light the imperial beacon at the Commerce Hall tomorrow to prove our energy monopoly is secure, I will throw you out into the snow myself."
He turned and barked orders at the alchemists, completely ignoring the tears that welled in Cynthia’s eyes.
Cynthia stood in the cold shadows of the laboratory, her fingers pressing against her chest where the stolen core rested. The pain was slowly returning now that her hand had left the stone, biting into her flesh like freezing needles.
He's alive, the realization settled in her gut like a block of black ice, chilling her to the marrow of her bones. Ethan survived the wastes... and he has come back for everything I stole.
High above the central market square, the wind howled through the arched openings of a forgotten stone clocktower.
The tower was abandoned, covered in thick cobwebs and layers of gray dust, but it offered an unobstructed view of the entire city. Below, the bustling streets of the Upper District connected to the smoky, crowded alleys of the Lower Wards.
Standing near the edge of the stone window, Ethan looked down at the city like a hawk watching mice in the grass.
His tattered gray cloak whipped softly in the freezing breeze, but his body remained warm as a summer furnace. His golden eyes tracked the heavy squad of armored syndicate guards marching through the mud, desperately kicking open cellar doors in search of the "Ash Walker."
A faint, mocking smile touched the corners of Ethan's mouth as he watched them chase his shadow.
A crisp, clear chime echoed inside his mind, bringing a cascade of glowing golden notifications.
[Garrick's Frantic Rage & Paranoia Harvested: +3,000 Eclipse Points!]
[Cynthia's Soul-Shock & Secret Dread Harvested: +2,500 Eclipse Points!]
[Current System Balance: 6,500 Eclipse Points!]
Ethan chuckled softly under his breath, the sound low and steady.
"Enjoy the terror, Cynthia," Ethan murmured into the wind. "You haven't even seen the bill for what you took yet."
He opened the glowing blue interface of the system mall, his mind moving through the shelves of ancient relics and techniques. With the syndicate hunting for his face, his old rags were no longer enough to move freely.
His eyes settled on a sleek, dark garment resting on the artifact shelf.
[Item: Phantom Shadow Cloak.]
[Cost: 2,500 Eclipse Points.]
[Effect: Completely conceals Host's biological aura, scent, voice, and facial features. Lowers ambient presence to zero, rendering Host unrecognizable even to those who shared his bed for years.]
"Purchase," Ethan commanded without hesitation.
[2,500 Eclipse Points Deducted. Remaining Balance: 4,000 EP.]
A shroud of midnight-black fabric materialized over his shoulders, melting smoothly over his clothes like liquid silk. The moment the hood pulled over his brow, his voice, his posture, and his very aura became unreadable, like an ancient shadow stepping between the realms.
Ethan looked down through the floorboards to the small wooden cot tucked in the corner of the dry bell tower.
Little Toby lay beneath a pile of clean woolen blankets, sleeping with a peaceful expression on his small face. In the center of the boy's chest, the Stasis Frost-Needle glowed with a faint, steady light, locking the deadly parasite in place.
Above Toby’s chest, a pale crimson timer hovered quietly in Ethan's vision:
[Stasis Duration: 5 Days, 14 Hours Remaining.]
Ethan walked over to his brother's side, kneeling quietly to pull the blanket higher over Toby’s chin. His hand, once cracked and bloody from the coal yards, was now strong, steady, and warm.
"Five days, Toby," Ethan whispered, his voice carrying the calm, absolute certainty of an executioner. "Five days to strip that bastard Garrick of his wealth, rip their fake goddess off her pedestal, and take the master key to set you free."
He stood up, turning his gaze back toward the grand dome of the Central Commerce Hall where the syndicate’s wealth was traded every day.
The trap was already set. Tomorrow, the city would learn what happened when the stray dog they starved returned as a wolf.
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Chapter 20
The icy blizzard howled violently through the narrow, snow-covered alleyway behind the ancient clocktower. Cold white flakes rained down from the dark night sky, covering the rotting wooden shanties in a freezing blanket of ice. Ethan Vance stood tall in his gray woolen cloak, his golden eyes glowing with a calm, lethal light under the pale winter moon. Cynthia stumbled backward into the dirty snow, her heavy boots slipping on the frozen slush as Ethan's cold words struck her like a physical hammer. She clutched her pale throat with both hands, her violet eyes wide with absolute, terrifying horror as her breath caught in her chest. "Ethan... what... what are you talking about?!" Cynthia shrieked, her trembling voice cracking against the roaring winter wind. "I didn't do anything! Garrick lied to you! Someone else put poison in Toby's food! I swear on my life!" she wailed frantically, wiping cold sweat from her pale forehead. Ethan took one slow, deliberate step forward, the sn
Chapter 19
The bitter winter wind howled through the narrow, snow-covered mouth of the dark alleyway. Cold gray fog rolled past the rotting wooden shanties, carrying the faint scent of sulfur and wet frost. Ethan Vance stood tall at the entrance of the alleyway, his heavy leather boots planted firmly in the freezing slush. His gray woolen cloak snapped gently in the rising blizzard, but his broad shoulders remained steady as a mountain peak. Under the faint silver glow of the winter moon, his golden eyes shone with quiet, divine authority. Stepping out from the heavy shadows of a broken wooden fence, Cynthia shivered violently in the bitter cold air. She wore a torn fur cloak she had stolen from a maid's quarters, its frayed edges dripping with filthy melting snow. Beneath her pale skin, dark black veins of decaying necrosis crawled up her thin neck like a spiderweb of poison. The three Blood-Ignition Pills Garrick had forced down her throat were devouring her inner meridians f
Chapter 18
The midnight bell of Aethelgard chimed heavily across the frozen sky, its deep metallic ring carrying no warmth into the dark streets. True to Lord Director Balor's vicious command, a sudden, terrifying freeze gripped the outer Ironworks Slum. Dozens of heavy syndicate enforcers marched into the border alleys, hauling massive blocks of jagged blue ice on wooden sleds. They slammed the ice blocks together with loud thuds, erecting tall runic barricades that completely sealed off every entrance to the slum district. Glowing blue runes flared along the icy walls, creating an impassable barrier that shut down all incoming traffic. City coal wagons were turned away by armed guards, clean water carts were smashed in the mud, and bread transport trucks were seized at spearpoint. "Turn back!" a heavy syndicate captain roared through a loud brass trumpet, his voice echoing off the frozen shanties. "By order of the City Energy Board, the Ironworks Slum is under total Quarantine
Chapter 17
The Crimson Flame vanished into Ethan’s open palm like water soaking into dry sand. Not a single spark remained in the cold air, nor did a drop of sweat show on Ethan's calm face. The entire banquet hall fell into a suffocating, dead silence that felt heavier than mountain stone. Every governor, noble lord, and trade merchant stood frozen in place, their mouths hanging open in sheer disbelief. No one in the thirty-year history of Aethelgard had ever absorbed Director Balor's Fifth-Rank flame with bare hands. Lord Director Balor stared down at his own right gauntlet, his bloodshot eyes narrowing with genuine, cold caution. The arrogant sneer on his granite face melted away, replaced by the grim calculation of a veteran tyrant. He realized in an instant that the young man standing before him was not a simple slum rebel or a corporate tool. Ethan Vance was a terrifying, unpredictable anomaly—an entity that could swallow Fifth-Rank solar energy whole without a scratch.
Chapter 16
The golden needle of solar gravity vanished from the tip of Ethan's finger. Before the Grand Patriarch could unleash his lava broadsword, stone dust rained heavily from the collapsed ceiling. A violent, crushing force tore through the upper rafters, shaking the high marble pillars of the grand hall. Every crystal chandelier that remained whole shattered into thousands of tiny, flying pieces that struck the floorboards. A massive figure descended from the shattered roof, slamming heavily into the center of the marble room. The ground buckled violently, sending deep cracks tearing across the polished floor toward the high banquet tables. A suffocating aura of deep crimson heat exploded outward from the newcomer's heavy iron body. It was a Fifth-Rank Solar Flare aura, radiating a heavy, burning weight that made the air feel like liquid lead. The sheer pressure slammed into the surrounding crowd of trade lords, city governors, and high merchants. One by one, the wealth
Chapter 15
The shattered fragments of the fire-crystal blade rained down onto the polished floorboards like glowing red dust. Garrick fell back hard against the base of the main banquet table, clutching his bleeding, mangled right wrist. The kinetic backlash from Ethan's solar barrier had snapped his wrist bones and scorched his skin into raw, black meat. Garrick screamed in sheer agony, his face turning pale with sweat as dark blood dripped onto his ruined velvet coat. "Guards!" Garrick shrieked, his voice cracking into a desperate, high-pitched squeak that echoed off the high rafters. "Guards of Aethelgard! Kill him! Attack this slum traitor at once! I command you!" "He has attacked a noble master of the city!" Garrick wailed, his eyes bulging as he thrashed on the floor. "Draw your blades!" A dozen heavily armored city guards stood at the grand entrance of the banquet hall, holding their heavy iron spears. They looked at the official imperial eviction notice unrolled on the
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