HELL'S ARCHITECT

Chapter 02. Unforgivable Sins

BANG!

The gunshot shattered eardrums, but no head exploded.

Cardinal Maelstro squealed like a slaughtered pig, his eyes squeezed shut. Seconds passed. He was still alive. Only a warm, wet sensation seeped through his expensive trousers. He had wet himself.

"Open your eyes, old man," Elios's voice was weary but laced with mockery.

Trembling, Maelstro opened his eyes. Elios had lowered his pistol, a thin wisp of smoke curling from the barrel. The waitress was free, crawling backward, weeping tears of gratitude for her life being spared.

"You... you missed?" Maelstro asked hoarsely.

Elios snorted. He pointed at the mahogany wall directly behind Maelstro's left ear.

"I never miss." He boasted.

Maelstro turned stiffly. On the wall, two inches from his ear, was the shattered carcass of a fist-sized creature. It was a Nightmare larva, a parasite that had just been crawling up the Cardinal's back while he was busy screaming.

"That..." Maelstro stammered.

"Yep. Phase two larva. I saw its reflection on the silver platter while you were screaming. If that thing stings you, your brain liquefies in two minutes," Elios explained, holstering his pistol. He glanced at the Cardinal's wet trousers. "But it looks like you have other problems."

"You... you played me!" Maelstro covered his groin, his face scarlet.

"Consider it a warning," Elios turned, his wounded leg leaving a trail of blood on the marble floor.

Beneath his perpetually cold expression, he suppressed the pain radiating from his calf up to his head. Every step made his world spin slightly, but he refused to slow down. The pain was nothing new; it was the price of being alive.

The main doors burst open. Dozens of personnel in black tactical uniforms stormed in. Sanctum Veritatis - Division IV: Cleanup.

They worked fast. Blue aerosol gas was sprayed. Amnestic Gas. The guests' memories would be replaced with a "gas pipe explosion" scenario.

A man stepped in from the back ranks. White nano-fiber armor with gold accents, a red cloak, and a cold, handsome face.

Kael. Captain of the Paladin Force. Elios's eternal rival since training days.

They had once been on the same squad, shared the same training bench, the same battlefield, until a decision was made that they never spoke of again.

He stopped in front of Elios, his eyes sweeping over the wound on Elios's leg and the surrounding chaos.

"You've made a mess again, Elios," Kael's voice was calm, yet sharp. "Protocol requires silent evacuation. You turned a charity gala into a slaughterhouse."

"I saved their lives, Kael," Elios replied, wiping sweat away. "If I'd waited for your slow procedures, Maelstro would be an incubator for a demon."

"You nearly killed a Cardinal in public. Pointing a weapon at a high-ranking Church official is a severe violation."

"He used civilians as human shields!" Elios snapped, his patience gone. "Where's your Paladin 'code of ethics' on that?"

Kael paused, his eyes glancing at Maelstro, who was being evacuated by the medical team. There was a flash of disgust in Kael's blue eyes, but he quickly masked it. "Church law is absolute. We are not judges."

"That's the difference between us. I don't need permission to take out the trash."

Elios's eyes suddenly caught something over Kael's shoulder. Officers were lifting the body of the soprano singer. A gold wedding ring on the corpse's ring finger glittered in the light.

Elios's world stopped. A high-pitched ringing pierced his ears.

Flashback.

Fire, heat, and Lyra lying beneath the concrete rubble of Sector 4. Her white dress was red. Her hand was outstretched, a simple silver ring on her finger. "Elios... run..."

The shadow returned.

"Elios!"

Kael's shout instantly pulled him back. Elios flinched, his breath catching. His face was deathly pale.

Kael stared at him, his brow furrowed. It wasn't anger; it was the expression of someone who had suffered the same loss. "Are you spacing out? You're unstable, Elios."

Elios immediately put his mask of sarcasm back on, though his hands were shaking violently. "I was just thinking how ugly the design of this place is. My business here is done."

He limped past Kael.

"Elios," Kael called softly. "Your leg wound... clean it before it gets infected."

Elios didn't answer, giving a fleeting, blank look over his shoulder before continuing out the emergency exit.

Two Hours Later.

Acid rain poured over the city. Elios climbed the rusted iron stairs to his apartment in District 9. This place was the antithesis of the Sky Deck. The smell of garbage, dim neon, and despair.

He reached the door of unit 304. His legs felt heavy; the adrenaline had worn off, replaced by stabbing pain.

Tucked into the gap beneath his door was an envelope. A black envelope with a red wax seal: Three Swords Piercing the Sun.

The High Priest's Seal.

"Bastards," Elios hissed.

He entered his dark apartment. The cramped room was a cruel contrast to the object in his hand. The envelope was made of high-quality vellum paper, thick and smooth—it clearly didn't belong in a poor place like this.

News from the neighbor's TV was faint. "Gas pipe explosion at the Sky-Deck Tower..."

Elios sat on the bathroom floor, holding his breath as he poured alcohol onto the open wound on his calf. The sharp smell stung his nostrils. A sewing needle pierced his skin without anesthetic. One stitch, two stitches, until it was done.

Once the wound was crudely bandaged, the unbearable pain kept him conscious.

Elios grabbed the envelope, then tore the seal. Inside was a card with gold ink handwriting.

'Come to the Main Cathedral tomorrow at dawn. Alone. We need to talk about Lyra.'

The name made Elios's breath catch.

For five years, his wife's name had been buried by the Church, erased, called an industrial accident, and now they were bringing it up again. Like an old knife deliberately sharpened anew.

Elios crumpled the card, then punched the wall next to him.

CRACK!

The wall plaster cracked. Fresh blood flowed from his knuckles, mixing with the grime on the wall. The physical pain helped him focus, driving away the image of the corpse at the party.

"Fine," Elios growled in the darkness. "You want to play the Lyra card? Let's play."

Outside, lightning flashed, illuminating Elios's face—no longer the face of a protector, but the face of a man ready to burn the world down.

"You misjudged me!"