Heir of the Lost Wish

A heavy silence enveloped the stadium. The sharp sound of students swallowing their saliva echoed as they couldn't take their eyes off the scene. Then, Lucian's exhausted voice finally broke the silence:

"I won."

Karen, shocked, glanced at Jin before her expression clouded with bitter sadness. Barely audible, she whispered:

"Jin…"

Lucian, still holding the shard of blade under his opponent's throat, suddenly staggered. His legs gave way under his own weight, and he collapsed.

Jin immediately reacted, stretching out his arms to catch him before he hit the ground. He supported him, one arm around his neck, and sighed:

"It makes you wonder who the real winner is…"

A group of healers rushed over urgently, their hands glowing with green light. Jin gently laid Lucian down, then placed a hand on his shoulder, speaking calmly:

"Rest, brother. You fought well."

As the healers attended to Lucian, Jin slowly straightened up. His face was dark. Yet, when he turned to face the frozen crowd, he flashed a broad, bright smile, scratched the back of his head, and said in a cheerful tone:

"I lost!"

A genuine laugh accompanied his words, momentarily easing the tension. Many thought it was just a joke, a light way of accepting defeat. But not Karen.

She stared at him, her expression one of disbelief. That smile… she knew it was just a mask.

Jin walked toward the exit, where the students, still in shock, had gathered. He passed by Karen without slowing down.

"Jin…" she murmured, hesitantly.

But he kept walking, without a glance, without a word. A cold wind seemed to blow between them.

Out of sight, Jin's smile faded. His expression grew darker as he walked down an empty corridor. Then, suddenly, he slammed his fist against the wall. A dull thud echoed in the silence. He remained there, his forehead pressed against his arm, his shoulders trembling with tension.

In a low, frustrated voice, he muttered:

"Dammit…"

Lucian opened his eyes some time later. The dim light from the ceiling blinded him for a moment. He blinked, his breath still irregular, before sitting up slightly.

He was healed. Every blow, every injury had vanished, irrefutable proof of the healers' effectiveness. Yet, despite the visible marks disappearing, his body hadn't forgotten. A heaviness weighed on his muscles, a strange emptiness in his limbs.

For though the flesh was intact, the shock remained etched deeply.

The fight, which had unexpectedly been so close, quickly spread throughout the Academy. Now, a name was on everyone's lips: the White Devil. Lucian Aether, the unknown with silver hair, had proven he was no ordinary student.

From that day, he joined the ranks of the eleven champions, recognized as the most formidable fighters in their arenas.

The next day, Lucian did not go to the Academy. His teacher had ordered him to rest and focus on his meditation. He had made tremendous progress, and after the fight, he felt a deeper connection with his Nexus.

But he wasn't the only one absent. Jin hadn't shown up either.

In his dojo, he relentlessly attacked a tree trunk, delivering blow after blow without pause. Sweat streamed down his body as his already bruised fists kept striking.

In the shadows, a towering man observed him. A long mustache and white hair marked his age, but his gaze was cold and unyielding.

"Don't stop," he growled. "Even if you die here. You're already dead once against that brat… One more death won't change anything."

Jin didn't answer. It was as though he had heard this speech a thousand times before.

His bloodied fists kept landing.

The sun was setting when Lucian decided to step outside for some air. He had been cooped up too long.

As he walked through the city, he exchanged a few pleasantries with the shopkeepers who were already closing up.

There was a strange curfew in the capital, and the night made the streets empty.

Lucian passed by the church, remembering his encounter with the man with the blond hair. On a whim, he decided to go back inside. As soon as he entered, a slight pain in his head made him mutter irritably:

"Again? What does this mean…?"

Inside, the enormous statue of the unknown warrior was still there, magnificent, but the church was deserted. Lucian almost wondered why there was a church if no one came to pray. He approached the statue, placed his hand on it, and tried to see the engraving on the giant's sword. But nothing appeared. He thought, perplexed:

*How is this possible?*

The silence in the church grew more oppressive, and the statue seemed to grow more imposing, almost threatening.

*Why aren't the engravings reappearing?*

Suddenly, an idea crossed his mind. What if it was because of the man with the blond hair? He recalled what had happened with him and his sword and thought:

*Is that man the King? Why was he there, dressed like a civilian in an apparently abandoned church?*

Remembering how his sword had reacted near the King, Lucian instinctively unsheathed it. His eyes widened.

The engravings were glowing, illuminating themselves.

*May my blade be the shadow of the King*

*This man… was not the King?* Lucian thought.

He remembered the tremor of his sword in the presence of the man. And murmured:

*No, it's different. This time, I didn't feel anything strange with my blade. If I hadn't checked, I would've never noticed. What does that mean?*

Lucian was lost in thought, his mind racing with hundreds of questions. Time passed, and the moon was now high in the sky. Eventually, he left the church, still focused on the engravings on the sword. As soon as he stepped outside, they faded. Lucian thought:

*So, it's related to the church… but the stranger with the blond hair also had an effect on it… Who forged this sword?*

The streets, usually bustling at this hour, were deserted. Not a sound, not a breath of wind. Even the wooden signs hanging from the shop fronts remained still, as though time itself hesitated to resume its course.

The cobblestones beneath his feet were cold, colder than they should have been, and a strange metallic smell lingered in the air, subtle yet unsettling. He blinked. For a moment, it seemed like the shadows stretched around him, forming indistinct shapes with trembling edges. Was it a trick of the light, or something else?

A barely perceptible chill ran down his spine as he heard a muffled sound behind him. A whisper? A groan? He turned abruptly. Nothing. Just the large church door, closed.

*This is really strange* he thought.

He hurried his steps, not wanting to risk being caught by the guards. Suddenly, as he passed by a small house, the door slammed shut. A woman emerged, screaming in a cold voice, loud enough to make Lucian shiver. He could usually keep his composure, but that scream could have sent him running. The woman stumbled as she stepped down the small stairs in front of her door, grabbing Lucian's leg. Her eyes, deep black, were surrounded by huge dark circles, and her gaze was full of madness.

She stared at him intensely, clutching his leg, and with a sad voice, tears in her eyes, she said:

"Please, give me my child back."

Lucian, confused, tried to respond calmly:

"You lost your child? Where? I can help you."

The woman, in a fit of rage, screamed again:

"GIVE ME MY DAUGHTER BACK !"

Her voice pierced the night like a cry of despair, and at her call, some lights flickered on in nearby houses, curious about what was happening.

Lucian, trying to calm the situation, said in a calm voice:

"First, tell me where she is…" But before he could finish his sentence, he stopped. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked toward the door from which the woman had come. A little girl with brown hair, holding a teddy bear in her arms, was crying. Between sobs, the little girl whispered:

"Mama, I'm here."

The mother turned abruptly, her face marked by rage, and in a cold tone, she screamed:

"You may look like my daughter, but you're not her, you monster!"

Lucian, shocked by these words, stepped forward toward the little girl. He knelt down to her level, and with a gentle smile, wiped her tears away. In the distance, a guard was running toward the scene, he would arrive soon.

Lucian tousled the little girl's hair, trying to comfort her:

"It's going to be okay, everything will be alright, don't worry."

He looked her straight in the eyes, searching for something, a particular spark. They locked eyes for several seconds, Lucian observing her pupils carefully.

Suddenly, the guard arrived, running. Lucian stood up and thought, perplexed:

*She seems human.*

He glanced at the mother, sobbing as she was restrained by the guard, and murmured to himself:

*Is she really crazy? How can she be so sure this isn't her daughter? Maternal instinct? No, that doesn't make sense.*

The mother, tears streaming down her face, screamed:

"Yesterday, I lost my daughter. She came back, but I know it's not her!"

The guard, visibly annoyed, raised his hand and swiftly aimed for the woman's neck to knock her out. However, a hand shot up to stop his arm. Lucian stood in front of him, surprised but with palpable intensity, and said in a tense tone:

"What do you think you're doing?"

The guard, without missing a beat, replied coldly:

"Get out of the way, you shouldn't be here at this hour. I'll give you a chance to leave while you still can."

Lucian, undeterred, scanned the surroundings, noticing several civilians watching discreetly from their windows. He fixed the guard with a firmer voice:

"Look around you."

The guard, clearly irritated by the interruption, withdrew his arm with an exaggerated sigh:

"Tchhh…"

Lucian tried to make out the guard's face, but the cap he wore obscured it. The pitch-black night didn't help either. However, he noticed a small detail: a mole on his cheek. That would be enough to recognize him later.

The guard, calmer now, escorted the woman and her daughter back into the house. Lucian, hesitant, wanted to make sure everything was alright, but ultimately chose to leave. Listening to the guard's advice, he figured he wasn't supposed to be there at this hour. He knew that with so many witnesses around, the guard wouldn't do anything more. As he walked toward the dormitory, his mind slowly calmed.

A few meters away, for no apparent reason, as though guided by instinct, Lucian suddenly drew his sword. His face froze as he saw the engravings still glowing.

*May my blade be the shadow of the King.*

He stopped, scanning the surroundings, but there was nothing. Lucian knew there were only two occasions when the engravings would glow like this: when entering the church or being near the blonde-haired stranger. A question crossed his mind:

*What's the connection between these two situations?*

Suddenly, a thought pierced his mind:

"The statue and the stranger… These two tangible entities… the blade reacts to them."

He looked around but still saw nothing. Then the obvious struck him.

"The guard! No… the little girl?!"

Lucian's thoughts swirled in a confused whirl.

He knew it didn't take much for the engravings to glow like this. But for them to shine this long meant he had come into contact with one or the other of these two people… or maybe both. He thought for a moment…

*Did both trigger the reaction?*

Lucian hesitated, his instinct urging him to go back and check, but he knew he'd risk getting caught if he persisted. As he walked toward the dormitory, questions whirled in his mind.

What could this mean? If the blade reacts to the statue, the stranger, and the guard, what would that imply?

Doubt crept into his thoughts, a tension he couldn't shake. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

Looking at the empty, dark streets of the city, Lucian thought:

*What is happening in this city ?*