Ashen's main goal from the start had always been strength.
The tutorial phase had already beaten that lesson into him with all the subtlety of a hammer to the skull. In Esperra, money and connections had been king. In Seravelle, personal power talked.
Strength was the only currency that mattered. Cornelia's words in the Pit had let that sink in completely, drowning any illusions he might have clung to.
Back when he'd first talked with Lucia about becoming a war hero, it had been a practical decision. First, it was to set a goal for himself, and second was to help her since his performance reflected on her as his recruiter, and by helping her, he also helps himself, since they were tied by a contract that made them eternal allies as long as it held.
Even then, fame had been a secondary objective back then, especially after he'd heard Alice was in the Ashbastion... right after seeing that nightmare, where she ended up dead.
Ashen had barely thought of anything aside from getting stronger and ascending to the next step so he could ask for leave. All to get to Alice and make sure she stayed alive.
Now, however…
Now Ashen had started craving fame for entirely different reasons.
His actions during the reserve army spoke for themselves. He'd gone from being a lone wolf to a captain of a battalion where all his soldiers admired him… or at least respected him enough to follow his orders without question. Few in the Reserve hadn't heard his name by now.
But Ashen wasn't doing this out of vanity, and even the War Hero plan had become secondary.
No.
He was doing this to bait a certain someone.
He knew the man wouldn't come from the start. Ashen would have to deal with cult members first and probably get assassinated or ambushed once his fame spread wide enough to draw attention, making him a target worth eliminating.
The other domains were already suffering the same harassment. Even during the Reserve Army's active phase, he'd heard stories of exceptional individuals mysteriously disappearing during raids. Bodies found later, or not at all.
Ashen was sure the only reason he hadn't been targeted yet was that he was still sixth step. A step where one struggled to cause any meaningful splash, no matter how much they clawed and scraped. Too small to bother killing.
But he was fine with that.
He would soon take the next step, and then he would welcome his so-called assassins with open arms.
He would even be glad, since his whole "plan" hinged on using those cultists as whetstones—sharpening himself against their blades until the leader of the cult himself took notice and came.
'It would be too late by then, hehe… "The more pressure, the more growth," was it? Let's see how I handle this then.'
The plan was insane. He knew that. But insanity seemed to be the theme of his new life.
"We should axe the 'project'."
Lucia's sudden statement threatened to put all of his carefully laid-out plans to a screeching halt.
…Plans that would sound more like elaborate suicide attempts to whoever heard them if he spoke of them aloud.
"Why?" His voice came out more hurried than he would have liked.
"What do you mean by 'why'?" Lucia's eyes stayed on him, unblinking. "Can't you see it? Sooner or later, you'll be targeted."
'...That's the whole point, lady…' He answered her in his head, keeping his expression carefully neutral.
"Your life would be in constant danger." Her voice stayed even, like she was discussing weather patterns. "And eventually, you'd be turned into a corpse."
'Apparently, attempting to kill me only makes me stronger, so I won't have to worry about that.'
Of course, he didn't say that aloud. He knew she'd hardly believe it. Even he himself had only recently started accepting his bizarre disposition—that pressure forged him into something harder.
Lucia's eyes remained placid even as she casually declared his death if he followed the same trajectory, but worry gnawed at her beneath the calm surface.
Anyone who knew her reputation would instantly back out if the Precog Lucia herself warned of their death, but she could see it behind his silence…
He wasn't convinced.
The stubborn bastard was going to do it anyway.
"...I haven't told you about the most recent selection in the tutorial, have I?" She asked suddenly, shifting tactics.
Ashen seemed relieved by the change in subject. "No, what happened? I hope there's some new blood at last."
"There's none."
Ashen raised an eyebrow, somehow not surprised. But he couldn't have guessed her next words.
"It's not only me. Every recruiter is the same."
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
"...What happened?"
"Cultists happened." Lucia uncrossed her legs and leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees. "They were able to bypass every security measure in place and massacred every trainee."
Ashen's expression didn't change, but his fists involuntarily tightened.
"…Even the professors weren't spared." She continued, voice dropping lower. "Greed, who is the overseer of this selection, lost a dozen third-step pathwalkers."
"..."
"Those are third-step powerhouses, Ashen. Transcendents." She let the word hang there. "So what gives you the confidence to act so arrogantly? Your little sixth-step powers?"
"..."
"Do you think yourself unique?" Lucia gestured toward the window, toward the fortress walls beyond. "Look outside this very fortress. What do you see? Those are the remnants of our pitiful reinforcements. There were thousands of the same power level as you among them."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"And all of them died."
The room felt colder somehow, despite the stale warmth trapped in the walls.
"Every Domain aside from Lust is being harassed as we speak. The cultists turned out to be so deeply embedded in us that they're practically eating us alive…"
Lucia's head lowered a fraction, pink hair falling forward to shadow her face. Her voice dropped with it, losing that clinical edge.
"…I'm telling you all of this because I don't want you to die. Not to belittle you."
She looked up then, and for once, her eyes weren't placid… they were burning with something she rarely let show.
"I don't care about the fame. I don't care about the rewards that will come of it." Each word came out more forceful. "Your life is more important."
Ashen had never heard Lucia speak in such a tone. And had never heard her say such words.
'She doesn't care about fame and rewards? Isn't that the foundation of our relationship?'
The notion felt hollow even as it formed. Maybe it had never been just that.
"...Can't you just stay put, at least for now?"
When she finally uttered that request… soft, almost pleading… Ashen felt his heart start beating loudly in his chest. Like he'd reached a crossroad, and his current choice would decide something really important.
…Something irreversible.
'Should I just listen to her? Do I really have to risk myself when I'm still this weak? Maybe biding my time until I reach a high enough step is the right choice here…'
The more Ashen thought about it, the more logical it seemed. The more sensible. The more… sane.
And the more his "plan" started to seem like crazy hubris… the special kind that got people killed in spectacularly stupid ways.
His lips moved to agree.
But his voice didn't have the chance to leave his throat.
Cassius' twisted face appeared in his mind as he screamed about losing "hope"... followed immediately by the image of seven entities that constantly loomed over this planet like vultures circling a corpse.
'No.'
All his hesitation receded like a tide pulling back, giving way to his original thoughts with crystal clarity.
'I probably did my best in the first timeline and still ended up like that. Doing my best isn't enough to defeat those monsters…'
His jaw tightened.
'Going crazy is the only answer.'
With that realization settling in his gut, he turned to Lucia and smiled… helpless and apologetic.
"In the Reserve Army, you can't really slack off… we're criminals, Lucia. We don't get that luxury." He shrugged. "Especially not now, with what I've already shown."
Silence stretched between them.
"..."
"...I'll do my best to stay low. No promises, though." Another shrug, this one more sheepish.
Lucia stared at him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then she muttered under her breath, so quietly he almost missed it:
"...A Sloth pathwalker who can't slack off?"
She huffed, resigned, and reached for her heels.
"Do as you like."
Slipping them on, she rose from the sofa in one fluid motion. Cast him one last glance, then left.
The door closed behind her with a soft click that somehow sounded louder than a slam.
Tok—
Ashen's gaze followed her until she was out of sight, until even her footsteps faded into the ambient noise of the fortress.
"I'm sorry, Lucia," he said to the empty room, voice quiet. "But I have to do this…"
Sigh.
He let the back of his head rest against the sofa, staring up at the water-stained ceiling and wondering if he really would end up as a corpse just like she'd predicted.
'No…'
His last dream from the first timeline flashed by, and he shook his head resolutely.
"I won't—can't die." The conviction burned in his chest.
…What he didn't know was that everything had a limit.
Even if he had the predisposition to grow under pressure, to sharpen himself against impossible odds, that too had a ceiling… A breaking point where the pressure stopped forging and started crushing.
Infinite willpower didn't translate to infinite strength.
And Ashen was about to find that truth out the hard way.