Luth lay nestled among the hills, bordered by treacherous peaks and chasms—a nearly impenetrable fortress formed by nature. Few dared to enter, making Luth a sanctuary of sorts. Within its walls, the city thrived under the guidance of the five Elders, leaders chosen not for strength but for their sharp minds. Each Elder hailed from one of the city's elemental factions: Fire, Wind, Water, Earth, and the Peculiars. The first four factions wielded elemental powers, while the Peculiar faction housed individuals with strange, unclassifiable abilities. The G5, Luth's elite combat force, was a different breed. They were guardians, selected from the best and trained to risk everything for the city. The process was brutal. Those who made it through the academy, a faction, or under a prominent mentor still had to prove their worth in a tournament—a test of skill, strength, and survival. Out of countless competitors, only thirty-two were chosen each year. By the tournament's end, the top five contestants were favorites for the Eiserne Faust, a team of the greatest five. The position and title that came with it commanded both respect and fear. Zen folded the newspaper he'd been reading, letting its details settle in his mind. The yearly Luthian tournament was about to begin. The newspaper was filled with praise and accolades, anticipation for the grand event. He took a steadying breath and turned his gaze toward the man sitting on the bench opposite him in the quiet park. The laughter of children drifted through the air as Zen approached, his steps heavy and calculated. The man was not the issue; it was the one who had sent him. The man noticed Zen, reached into a black duffel bag at his side, and pulled out a newspaper. From between its pages, he withdrew a stamped letter, the seal almost taunting in its familiarity. "From the boss," the man murmured. "He wants you in the tournament." Zen took the letter without a word. His face was unreadable, though his fingers tightened slightly around the paper. He had just turned to leave when the man seized his arm. "Be careful, boy." He leaned in. "He has some plan up his sleeve." Zen's expression flickered as he met the man's gaze. It softened slightly, a glint of gratefulness flashing in his eyes. "Thank you for your concern, Graviet." Graviet released his grip, the grim lines of his face relaxing just enough to show sympathy. "Good luck, boy. You're going to need every ounce of it." Zen turned and walked away, slipping into the shadows of the city's winding streets. Graviet shook his head and sighed, muttering a quiet prayer. Poor boy, he thought. What rotten luck to end up on the wrong side of the boss. He made the sign of the cross, more out of habit than faith, before returning to his newspaper.
BLATANT TRUTH
The path home seemed longer than usual. Zen's mind churned with bitter thoughts, memories creeping up on him with each step. He traced the stamp on the letter, feeling a shiver run down his spine. He remembered the brand—the searing heat, the agony—and bile rose in his throat. He stumbled, clutching his stomach, laughing bitterly. It had been eleven years since he first met the boss, eleven years of relentless torment under a man who thrived on cruelty.
But the thought of Tara waiting for him pulled him back from the darkness. He forced himself to his feet, wiping his mouth, and continued up the path through the hills, the damp night air stinging his skin.
At the house, he knocked, quickly forcing a smile. Tara opened the door, her face lighting up as she pulled him into a warm embrace.
"You haven't been home in two days, Zen! Where have you been?" she asked, her voice gentle yet searching.
He met her gaze, his smile widening. "Told you—I had to work overtime."
She shook her head, still holding onto him. "There's no need for that, Zen. I have work. You don't need to exhaust yourself."
"Come on," he said, chuckling as he pulled away. "What kind of man would I be if I let you do all the work?"
Tara scoffed but let him go. "Look at you, all dirty. Go take a bath; dinner's ready."
As he headed to the bathroom, he felt his tension easing, the lingering fear and nausea fading. He looked back to see Tara preparing the meal, her silhouette warm and familiar against the glow of the kitchen.
Yes, it was worth it. Protecting her—protecting what kept him sane—made everything he endured worthwhile.
Zen lay awake, thoughts swarming his mind. He wasn't a fighter. Tara had taught him the basics, but with his powers sealed, he doubted his chances of securing a top sixteen spot. The tournament was looming closer, and he hadn't found any path forward. Finally, over dinner the next evening, the weight of it all made him break down, his trembling hands causing his fork to clatter against his plate. Tara reached across the table, her fingers gentle as they held his.
"Zen, tell me something. Anything. You don't have to tell me everything. I might be able to help."
For a moment, he hesitated. But those eyes were too earnest, too trusting to lie to. He cleared his throat.
"I want to enter the tournament."
She looked puzzled, searching his face. "You want to become an expeditioner? Why?"
He faltered. "Because… I want to," he mumbled.
Tara sighed, her eyes softening for a moment. Then, after a pause, her expression shifted.
"Do you know what today is, Zen?"
He nodded slowly. "It's your birthday. I wouldn't forget it for the world."
A faint, dry laugh escaped her, but it was devoid of joy. "It's also the day my mother died, Zen. The day your mother killed her."
Zen felt the air around him grow thick and stifling. His voice faltered as he searched for words that wouldn't come. His chest felt tight, the revelation like a crushing weight he hadn't prepared for.
"Today also marks the end of this little charade we've kept up," she said, her face hardening, her gaze sharp and detached. "I know why you want to enter the tournament, and I know what's been happening these last eleven years. I let you believe what you wanted, to indulge your delusions of being some... protector." She let out a sharp, joyless laugh, watching his face fall.
Her hand released his, and Zen felt a chill settle over him as if he were speaking to a stranger.
"I tried, Zen", she said, her voice trembling with bitterness. I could live with it. But I can't. It hurts. The truth stings when I look at you, eats away at me, and what you do makes it worse, like some Invalid atonement. It's time you hear it, the truth."
Zen's hands went clammy. "Please… don't," he murmured.
But she continued, her voice icy. "You don't know the first thing about being a prisoner, Zen. Your mother locked me in darkness for hundreds of years. A cold, silent place that warped me—and then one day, I'm expected to play foster, with her child! Her hand curled into a fist. "Then, after all those years, I'm supposed to look after you, to play happy family. And for what?"
Zen's head was bowed, his eyes shut tight. Each word she spoke chipped away at the world he thought he knew.
"I was pulled into your mother's mess," she said, voice rising with every word. "Your mother gave you to me as if I'd wanted any part of it, like I was just a tool to help her plans." Tara laughed, and there was nothing warm about it. "She put a seal on me, Zen. Told me she'd always be watching. And all this time, I've had to act like everything was fine, that I didn't remember the cold, dark place where she left me to rot, the lives she took."
"Tara, please…stop," Zen whispered, his voice barely audible.
But she only leaned in closer, her face a mask of contempt. "There's only one thing I loathe more than your mother and her twisted sense of control." Her voice dropped to a low, venomous whisper. "I loathe the princess above all things. But you, and your misguided sense of justice, are what I hate the most."
Zen's fist clenched, knuckles turning white as he slammed his hand on the table. "Enough," he choked out, his eyes reddening as he fought to keep himself composed.
Tara chuckled darkly. "It's almost laughable, really. You, thinking you're 'protecting' me all these years. How I wonder how I got here in the first place!" Her lips twisted in a mocking smile. "But if you want to know the truth, I'll gladly tell you what you need to do for this tournament. Just don't ever think, even for a moment, that you're protecting me."
The silence that followed was deafening. Zen stumbled back from the table, unsteady as he made his way to the door. There was only one way out, but his blurred vision made it look like there were two. He reached for the handle, opened it, and stepped out into a world that felt foreign and unrecognisable. Everything he had known, or thought he knew, was gone. His resolve, Tara's warmth—nothing made sense anymore.
He moved through the darkness, his mind numb as he approached the cliffs overlooking the valley. He wanted to feel…nothing. Just calm. His laughter, a hollow sound, echoed off the rocky walls as he looked down at the abyss waiting below. And with a final, shuddering breath, he stepped forward, surrendering to the void.