As Lorenzo’s vision blurred and his body gave in to exhaustion, the faint flicker of blue flames began to rise around him. A strange familiarity settled over him as the flames danced. His consciousness wavered, and as he fell deeper into the darkness, the memories returned—ones he wished he could forget.
##Village of Bao Ao, Southern Elysion, 20 years ago
Nestled amidst the harsh plains of southern Elysion, the village of Bao Ao stood as a symbol of perseverance and resilience. Perched high in the sprawling baobab trees, each house was shaped like a bulb of garlic and carefully constructed to withstand the harsh elements. The Amberian tribe had lived there for generations, carving out a life despite the merciless climate. With every breath, the villagers exuded grit, their reverence for their ancient deity, Cerberus, sustaining them through the hardest times.
For Lorenzo and his family, life in Bao Ao was a constant battle. In their modest, dimly lit bulb-shaped house, hunger gnawed at their bellies like a relentless beast. Lorenzo sat with his siblings, all of them frail and pale, as his father divided the last loaf of bread they possessed.
“This is all we have left,” his father said softly, the weariness of years etched into his voice. He passed the thin slices to each of his children, his calloused hands trembling as he met their wide, hollow eyes. Lorenzo took his piece, his fingers brushing against his father’s, sensing the quiet desperation hidden behind his stoic gaze.
“Will it rain soon, Papa?” one of Lorenzo’s younger siblings whispered, hope clinging to their voice like a fragile thread.
Their father hesitated, his gaze flickering to the window where the arid plains stretched endlessly, cracked and barren under the unrelenting sun. “Perhaps,” he replied, though the faint tremor in his voice betrayed the truth.
The crops had failed again, the once-fertile lands succumbing to the wrath of the southern plains. Months of drought had brought them to the brink of starvation, and the village’s small reserves of food had long since been depleted.
“The capital’s aid won’t reach us for weeks,” his father murmured grimly, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the door. Outside, the village head’s voice echoed as he rallied the men for an act of desperation—a raid on the neighboring villages.
At the center of Bao Ao stood the shrine, its modest exterior belying its deep significance to the Amberian tribe. Inside, the statue of Cerberus loomed—majestic and haunting. The three-headed hound, encased in heavy chains, symbolized both strength and restraint. Its dark, ringed eyes held embedded black stones, shimmering faintly even in the dim light of the shrine.
The villagers believed Cerberus had once saved their ancestors from a devastating titan catastrophe, binding itself in chains to protect humanity. To honor the deity’s sacrifice, every child born in Bao Ao bore the tattoo of the three-headed hound on their back, marking them as under the protection of something ancient and powerful.
The villagers often sought solace at the shrine, their prayers rising like whispers to the heavens. Lorenzo had spent countless nights kneeling before the statue, the faint glow of the black stones offering a semblance of hope. Yet, that night, even the shrine’s sacred aura could not quell the rising tide of despair that gripped the village.
The call to raid came as the final measure of survival. In the village square, twenty men—including Lorenzo’s father—stood solemnly under the pale light of the crescent moon. Armed with little more than farming tools, their resolve was the only armor they carried.
The village head addressed them, his voice steady but grave. “We raid because we must. Take only what we need. Leave enough for them to survive. We are not thieves—we are just trying to live.”
Lorenzo watched from the shadows, his heart aching as his father stepped forward to join the group. The weight of responsibility etched itself deeper into his father’s face as he disappeared into the night, his silhouette fading against the horizon.
Days later, the men returned, their faces weary but triumphant. They carried sacks of food scavenged from a nearby village—just enough to stave off starvation for a time. Relief swept through Bao Ao, and the villagers celebrated with an energy that had long been absent. For the first time in months, laughter rang out beneath the baobab trees, and the weight of despair lifted, if only briefly.
But joy has a way of masking impending doom. The rumors began to spread, carried on the winds like poison. Whispers of the Amberian tribe’s desperation transformed into dark accusations—tales of forbidden cults, sacrificial rituals, and unspeakable horrors. The villagers were painted as heretics, their worship of Cerberus twisted into something malevolent by those who feared the unknown.
——
Under a moonless sky, Bao Ao celebrated their survival. Laughter and music echoed through the village, unaware of the horde stalking them in the shadows. Lesser titans, drawn by the scent of life and food, crept closer. At their lead was a golden bear titan, its matted dreadlocks shimmering with an eerie glow.
In an instant, the joyous night turned to chaos. The golden bear roared, and the titans descended upon the village. Baobab trees splintered under their weight. Screams filled the air as flames engulfed the wooden homes. The men fought valiantly but were no match for the titans.
"Run, Lorenzo!" his father roared, his voice raw with desperation. With one powerful shove, he pushed Lorenzo toward the shadows, just as the bear titan’s massive claws tore through his chest. The sound of flesh rending and the spray of blood froze Lorenzo in place. His father staggered, blood pouring from the gaping wound, but still, he stood firm between Lorenzo and the beast.
"Run!" his father bellowed again, his voice cracking as his strength faltered.
The bear titan snarled, its dreadlocked mane twisting in the heat of the flames as it lunged forward. Its claw swiped again, narrowly missing Lorenzo but leaving a deep gash across his forehead. Pain flared, and blood began to trickle down his face, clouding his vision.
Lorenzo stumbled back, tears streaming down his cheeks, mingling with the blood that blurred his sight. Fear gripped his chest like a vice, but he turned and ran, his father’s final command echoing in his ears.
The village was chaos—a cacophony of screams, roaring flames, and the guttural growls of titans. Everywhere Lorenzo looked, he saw devastation: houses burning, bodies littering the ground, and the faces of his friends and neighbors contorted in terror or lifeless in death. He frantically searched for his siblings, calling their names into the night, but there was no answer—only the relentless sounds of destruction.
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His legs carried him instinctively toward the shrine at the heart of the village. Desperation drove him forward, his chest heaving with sobs as the world crumbled around him.
Inside the shrine, the statue of Cerberus loomed, its chained heads glinting ominously in the firelight. Lorenzo collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
"Please..." he whispered, clutching the base of the statue. "Save us... Save me…"
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the air shifted. A low growl resonated through the shrine as the ring around Cerberus’s heads began to glow. The black stones flickered with an unnatural light.
Before Lorenzo could move, the ring detached itself, hovering in the air before shooting toward him. Pain seared through his body as it merged with him, darkness surging through his veins. The tattoo on his back burned, and blue flames erupted around him.
Lorenzo’s vision blurred, his screams drowned out by the roar of an ancient power awakening within him. His last memory was of the shrine engulfed in flames, the world fading to black.
When Lorenzo awoke, the village was gone. Bao Ao lay in ashes, its people—his family—reduced to memories. He stood amidst the ruins, the blue flames still flickering faintly around him, casting an otherworldly glow over the devastation. His breath hitched as he looked down at his trembling hands, soot-streaked and faintly warm from the fading flames. Then, his gaze fell to his finger—a ring with a black crystal that seemed to emit a darkness deeper than the darkest night, its ominous glow pulsing faintly. He didn’t remember how it got there, but its presence felt both foreign and familiar, as if it had always been a part of him. He was the only survivor.
——
The forest was lifeless, a desolate expanse of petrified trees standing like grim statues beneath a sky thick with ash-gray clouds. The brittle ground cracked underfoot, and faint blue flames flickered weakly in the aftermath of a ferocious battle. Shadows stretched long and eerie, adding to the unsettling stillness.
"Medic! Over here! We found one survivor!" A voice echoed through the forest, shattering the silence.
The team moved quickly toward the prone figure of a boy lying amidst the fallen trees. His uniform was torn, soot smeared across his face, but no visible wounds marred his body. He seemed untouched by the chaos that had unfolded around him. The medics prepared to move him when their attention was caught by something on his back—a dark, intricate tattoo of a three-headed hound. The mark of Cerberus. A faint magical shimmer flickered over it, as though trying to conceal its presence.
Neil approached, his face grim as he crouched to inspect the boy more closely. "The mark of the Cult of Cerberus," he muttered, his fingers tracing the faint magical aura surrounding Lorenzo.
Rena, standing nearby with her arms crossed, straightened at Neil's words. "The Cult of Cerberus?" she repeated, her tone sharp with disbelief. "They were supposed to have been eradicated decades ago. The kingdom sent its forces to root them out in the southern provinces of Elysion.”
Neil’s eyes darkened as he crouched, tracing the faint runic symbols etched into the ground around Lorenzo’s unconscious body. His fingers hesitated, hovering just above the markings. “I read that they were destroyed too," he admitted, his voice low and filled with unease. "But these runes... they’re connected to southern tribal rituals. The style could be Amberian, where the cult were originated. I can’t say for sure.”
Rena glanced at Lorenzo’s motionless body, her eyes narrowing. "So, the Cult didn’t vanish—they went underground. And now they’re back.”
Neil’s gaze lingered on Lorenzo. "Whatever happened twenty years ago, it wasn’t the end of the story.”
The faint hum of the runic symbols grew stronger for a brief moment, sending a shiver down their spines. Rena clenched her fists, the weight of the past and the looming threat of the present settling over her like a storm cloud. "Then we need to find out what really happened at Bao Ao," she said firmly. "And what the Cult of Cerberus left behind, do you think these tie Lorenzo to the incidents at the academy?”
Neil nodded gesturing toward Lorenzo. "Whatever answers we’re looking for, he might hold the key.”
Rena’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer. "And the others? What about the second-year boy?”
A team member gestured toward a crumpled, lifeless body nearby. "Dead, Lady Rena. Crushed beyond recognition, but it’s Chan. We’ve confirmed his identity.”
Neil rose, walking to where the remains of Chan were being examined. From the tattered belongings scattered nearby, he picked up a small, shattered doll. Its delicate features were barely recognizable, but the design was unmistakable—the Arae.
He held it up for Rena to see, his expression grim. "Another one. Just like the ones we found at the other sites. This links Chan’s death to the recent disturbances, and now Lorenzo is at the center of it.”
Neil set the doll down carefully, his gaze returning to Lorenzo. "We don’t know if this is connected to the Cult, the Amberians, or something else entirely. But it’s clear there’s a thread running through all of this—one that ties back to these rituals and the disturbances around the academy. And if the energy from these runes is any indication..." He glanced again at the dark, residual traces lingering in the air. "Whatever this is, it’s not over."
“Where is the third student?”
The team member hesitated, shaking his head. "No sign of her. No body, no energy trace—nothing. It's as if she was erased completely.”
"Erased, or taken. Either possibility is troubling." Neil glanced at Lorenzo, who remained unconscious, his breathing shallow but steady. "He’s alive. Unbelievably so. No visible injuries—just this tattoo. Something powerful is at work here.”
Rena's gaze lingered on Lorenzo's motionless form, her voice hard. "If that mark is what it seems, then we need to watch him closely.”
Before they could speculate further, another voice called from the treeline. "Master Neil! Lady Rena! You need to see this!”
They followed the call, weaving through the petrified forest until they arrived at a clearing. At its center lay an ancient altar, carved from black stone and partially overtaken by dry, lifeless roots. The air here was heavier, saturated with residual titan energy.
"This is the source of the disturbance," one of the scouts said uneasily, crouching near the weathered stone altar. His fingers hovered over the faintly glowing symbols carved into its surface. "Residual energy. And not just from one titan—this is catastrophic. Whatever happened here… it was recent.”
Neil stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined the intricate patterns etched into the altar. The faint traces of energy clung to the air, prickling against his senses. He didn’t speak immediately, his mind working to piece together the scattered fragments of evidence they’d gathered over the past few weeks.
Rena stood a step back, her sharp eyes scanning the area, the faint glow from the altar casting an eerie light in her violet irises. "Do you think this whole thing is tied up?" she asked, her voice calm but edged with tension.
Neil hesitated before responding, his tone measured. “— they seem to. This site was used for something significant, the residual energy suggests it was... monumental. But whether a seal was broken or not?" He shook his head slightly. "We don’t know for sure. All we do know is that something dark was here. And now, it’s gone.”
Rena’s lips pressed into a thin line, her thoughts racing as she tried to connect the dots. "The Cult of Cerberus," she muttered. "Could they be behind this?….” Her voice trailed off, uncertainty lacing her words.
Neil glanced at her, his brow furrowed in thought. "It’s possible," he said cautiously. "But we don’t have proof. Not yet. Right now, all we have is a theory—a troubling one. This altar, the energy, the timing... it could all be connected, or it could be coincidence." He frowned, his gaze flicking to the unconscious Lorenzo lying under guard nearby.
Rena followed his gaze. "Lorenzo," she murmured, her voice quieter. "We need answers. As soon as he wakes, we interrogate him.”
Neil’s unease deepened as he turned his attention back to the altar. "We need to keep a closer eye on him," he said firmly. "Double the surveillance. If he’s involved, even unknowingly, whoever—or whatever—is behind this might come looking for him. And if they do, we need to be ready.”
Rena nodded, stepping forward with a determined glint in her eyes. "Agreed. And this site needs to be studied thoroughly. Whatever happened here—whatever this energy was—it's tied to something bigger. We need to understand what we’re dealing with.”
Neil glanced back at her, his expression grim. "If the energy here is any indication, whatever was here was powerful—and malevolent." He exhaled sharply. "We can only theorize for now. But one thing is clear: this isn’t over.”
Rena’s voice was steady, though a shadow of concern flickered in her gaze. "Whatever this is, it’s already in motion. We need to act quickly—before we’re too late."