The clink of chains echoed faintly as the man stirred awake. His head pounded, his vision blurred, but the cold, damp stone told him everything—he had been captured.
Fragments of memory returned in sharp flashes: the suffocating pressure of a purple air bubble, his lungs burning as consciousness slipped away, and the boy's sharp eyes watching him fall. He hadn't been beaten by brute force but by a merciless technique that stripped away his will to fight.
His name was Lucien.
Once, he had been a proud member of Silver Dawn, a small light guild that defended this very city. They were never famous, never mighty, but they had honor. His wife, Liora, and their two children often visited the guild hall, filling its halls with laughter. Lucien remembered thinking he had everything he could ever want.
Until Abel arrived.
The guild was reduced to ash in a single night, its members slaughtered like livestock. Lucien fought until his body broke, but Abel didn't kill him. No—he saw something in him. A strength, a stubbornness. And he turned it into a chain.
Abel poisoned not only Lucien, but also Liora and the children. The venom ate away slowly at their bodies, a cruel leash around their lives. Every month, Abel alone provided the antidote—just enough to keep them alive until the next dose.
Lucien no longer cared for his own life. His body was already corroded by poison, his soul hollowed by hatred. But his family… his family still breathed, still smiled weakly when he returned with their salvation. For them, he continued. For them, he became Abel's knife in the shadows.
And now, bound in chains, he let out a bitter laugh.
"…So this is it. Not Abel. Not by choice. But by some boy with… purple wind."
He lowered his head, his voice breaking for the first time in years.
"Liora… girls… forgive me. I couldn't keep the promise."
From the shadows of a high window, Astro and Kael watched the bound man stir awake. The torchlight flickered across his gaunt face, the deep circles under his eyes telling a story of years without rest.
Kael's voice was low, but certain.
"…That's Lucien. He was a mage of Silver Dawn. Their guild was wiped out three years ago. Everyone thought he died with them."
Astro glanced at Kael, then stepped down into the room. He crouched across from the bound man, his sharp gaze softened by quiet curiosity.
"You're awake."
Lucien looked up, wary. "…You. The boy from before."
Astro tilted his head. "Not what you expected?"
A bitter chuckle escaped Lucien. "Not at all. You've got that look—too clean for this world. If you were smart, you'd have killed me outright. Save yourself the trouble."
Astro didn't flinch. Instead, he folded his arms and leaned back slightly.
"You were a guild mage once. That means you fought for people, for ideals. I don't believe a man like that threw it all away for money. Why do Abel's work?"
Lucien's lips tightened. He looked away, shame flashing across his face. His voice was low, cracking at the edges.
"Why does anyone? Coin. Power. Better to serve the strong than be crushed under their heel." His tone was steady, but his gaze slid away, unfocused.
Astro didn't blink. "You're lying."
The man stiffened.
"If it was just about money, you wouldn't have tried to run away. And power? You already have enough skill to survive without Abel. No…" Astro narrowed his eyes. "…you whispered another name when you were unconscious. Liora. Who is she?"
At that, Lucien's composure cracked. His lips trembled, his whole frame rigid as if the word itself pierced him. For a long time, he said nothing—just the sound of his breathing, heavy and uneven.
Finally, he lowered his head. "…My wife. Abel found her. Poisoned her. My children too. Every month, I get the antidote—just enough to keep them alive. If I fail him, if I betray him… they die."
His voice wavered, but his eyes hardened with desperation.
"So go on, laugh at me. I don't care what happens to me. But I'll crawl through the dirt, slit a hundred throats, damn myself a thousand times—if it means they can wake up another morning."
Astro studied him quietly, the faint purple sheen of his eyes catching the torchlight. There was no scorn in his gaze, no cruelty—only the sharpness of someone who had stripped away every excuse to find the truth.
"…That's different," Astro said softly. "You're not serving Abel because you want to. You're serving him because he's holding your family hostage. And you're too proud to admit it."
For the first time, Lucien truly looked at him. The boy's tone wasn't mocking. It was steady, almost… understanding. Something inside Lucien shifted, like a knot loosening after years of strain. Against all instinct, he felt the faintest flicker of trust.
"Why… why are you telling me this?" he whispered.
"Because I needed to hear it from you," Astro replied. "And because if you trust me enough to admit it, then maybe there's still a way forward."
Astro stepped forward, the faint hum of purple wind gathering around his palms. Not threatening—gentle, steady, like the first breath of dawn.
"You're poisoned too, aren't you?" Astro said quietly.
Lucien flinched, his eyes widening. "How—"
"I can hear it in your breath. The way your heartbeat falters.." Astro's tone was calm, matter-of-fact. He raised one glowing hand, letting the faint violet currents swirl visibly between his fingers. "I can undo it."
The assassin stared at him, incredulous. "Healing…? Don't mock me. Healing magic is a lost magic. None of us have seen it in generations."
Astro didn't answer right away. Instead, he slowly walked in front of Lucien, and placed his palm right by his chest, his palm was coated with a purple glow, Lucien's recent wounds from his body healed very fast.
The chamber grew quiet.
Lucien's lips parted, trembling, his mask of iron composure shattering. "T-That's… impossible."
"It's real," Astro said simply. He let the purple glow fade, lowering his arm. His eyes locked with Lucien's, steady as steel. "And I can cure you from the poison. I can cure your family too. But nothing comes without a price."
Lucien clenched his fists, torn between hope and fear. "…What do you want from me?"
"Everything," Astro replied, his voice quiet but firm. "A detailed list of all you know about Abel. His hideouts, his networks, his shipments—every piece of his work. No half-truths, no excuses. You give me that… and I'll free you from his chains."
The purple wind stirred faintly around him again, divine and terrifying in equal measure, like a promise and a threat entwined.
Lucien's breath caught. For years he had been Abel's tool, a man shackled by poison and despair. And now this boy stood before him—offering freedom at a cost he had longed for but feared to pay.
His eyes burned as he looked at Astro. "…You'd really save them? My Liora… my children?"
Astro didn't blink. "Yes."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint rustle of wind outside the window. Lucien's lips trembled as if a thousand words fought inside his chest, but his fear of betrayal held them shut.
Astro did not press. He only stood there, the soft glow of purple wind around his palm flickering like a lantern in the dark. A quiet promise of hope.
Finally, Lucien broke. His voice cracked as he whispered, almost to himself, "If there's even the slightest chance you can free them… then I'll tell you everything."
And he did.
The dam inside him shattered, and words spilled out in a flood. He spoke of Abel's network of hideouts, the shipments smuggled in under the mayor's blind eye, the coded signals between assassins. Then, with a hollowed tone, he listed the contracts he had carried out—the blood he had spilled, the lives taken under Abel's command.
Astro listened without flinching, committing every word to memory. But Kael, standing in the shadows by the window, felt each name cut deeper than a blade. Many of those lost had been comrades, fellow guild members, brothers-in-arms who had fought to protect the city. And now the truth sat there, wrapped in the trembling voice of a broken man poisoned into servitude.
When Lucien's voice finally faltered, his shoulders slumping as if he had poured out the last of his strength, Astro gave him a single nod. "That's enough."
He turned and left the chamber without a word more, his cloak brushing against the wind coming from the high window. The soft hum of wind followed him out, leaving only the faint quiet behind.
Kael remained.
He stepped from the shadows and looked at Lucien. The assassin sat slumped, hands trembling in his lap, eyes hollow with guilt. A man who had once been a comrade of light, now a weapon in the dark.
Kael's jaw tightened. Anger burned in his chest, but so did grief. His hand twitched at his side, torn between killing him or turning away. He wanted to curse him, to mourn him, to strike him down for the friends he would never see again. But looking at Lucien now, broken and poisoned, Kael could only feel the crushing weight of silence.
He closed his eyes. His face, usually sharp and composed, was clouded with a deep, conflicted sorrow.
The chamber ended not with an execution, nor with forgiveness—only with Kael's unreadable gaze lingering on Lucien, and the uncertain question of what future awaited the fallen assassin.