Lemonk sat frozen.
"No soul artefact…?" he repeated, his voice hollow.
"How is that possible?" he asked again, louder this time. "Everyone in this world is born with a soul artefact, aren't they?"
Fran stood by the doorway, arms folded, his brow furrowed with the burden of truth. "Yes, normally. But there's… one exception."
Lemonk stared at him, disbelief tightening in his chest.
"That exception," Fran said, "is your talent, Strengthen."
Lemonk's lip trembled. "But… you said it could be one of the best talents… if paired with a healing-type artefact."
"I did say that," Fran replied gently. "But I didn't tell you the full truth."
Lemonk blinked away the tears rising in his eyes. "What… what do you mean?"
Fran sighed and stepped closer. "Strengthen is a talent that can grow anything, your muscles, your reflexes, your perception, your skills. It has no ceiling. No cap. If paired with the right artefact, like one that heals or boosts stamina, it becomes… unstoppable."
Lemonk looked up. For a moment, hope stirred again.
"But," Fran continued, "that's the problem."
The hope shattered.
"Nature has its own balance," Fran said solemnly. "Strengthen is too powerful. It breaks the rules. So nature built in a restriction, those born with it awaken no soul artefact at all."
Lemonk was silent. Then, like a river slowly overflowing its bank, the pain poured out.
Tears slid silently down his cheeks, warm and salty. He didn't sob, not loudly, but his whole frame trembled as if trying to contain something far too big for his small body.
He had dreamed of greatness. He had prayed every night before sleep and every dawn after sleep to the Sun God to be given the strongest gift. And in a way, he had gotten his wish. But now he understood the cruel irony of it.
He had received the strongest seed, but no soil to grow it in.
The door creaked.
Fran stepped out, giving Lemonk one last look before disappearing into the main chamber where the other awakenings continued. He still had a duty to perform.
Lemonk remained alone.
The chamber was silent, save for the soft, aching sound of a boy's quiet grief.
A future that had once burned bright now felt cold as stone.
And yet, deep in that stillness, a faint ember remained.