Chapter 1
Sunday dawn was near, and Finn's heart had already stopped seventeen times.
His mood was bound to be sour upon waking.
A heart, the most faithless thing a man could own. It served you faithfully for decades, and then, all of a sudden, it took a break, and your life ended in a blink.
Yet for the third time, he had postponed his journey with the Reaper. He would live on to see another dawn with this new heart of steel of his.
"Argh… what wouldn't we do just to stay alive," he murmured, lightly tapping his chest, from which a faint metallic sound echoed.
"Finally awake, Mr. Heartless?" a voice echoed through the darkness, just before the click of a switch rang throughout the gloomy chamber.
Finn jolted upright on his bed as the light revealed a familiar face.
"Damn it, when are you going to stop appearing like that? Do you think everyone can see in the dark?" he shouted.
"It's really ungrateful to yell at the one who watched over you all night, you know, cousin," Lydia replied with her usual carefree smile.
"Never asked you. I told you I had absolute faith in my creations… It's nothing unusual if it stops a few times before I get used to it."
He said this before falling back onto his bed, landing on his feather pillow like an anvil.
"By the way, where is Aunt Karmine?" he asked, lifting his head.
"She was too exhausted after the surgery. She probably went back to the manor with Khan… And I'm a Night-Slave, you know. Sleeping is the least of my concerns."
Lydia stood up, picking up a red-and-green checkered shirt that had been lying on the floor near her feet.
"Almost forgot," she added, making circular motions over the center of her chest. "I already took my compensation."
Finn froze for a moment before his head immediately lifted from the pillow, his gaze snapping to his chest, where an iron-steel structure rested—his prosthesis—the one he had spent most of his short life trying to perfect.
She wouldn't dare…
He desperately searched for the slightest irregularity.
She did.
His eyes locked onto a few words written in an unusual italic script near the edge of his chest. Finn narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the incongruous message.
[March of the Heartless]
She and his twin had tried many times before to carve the most ridiculous patterns onto his prostheses, and most of the time they had failed. But this time he had lowered his guard.
Finn remained silent, staring at her while picturing himself jumping on her, pulling her ears, and maybe even biting her a few times.
Even if she was stronger, she wouldn't assault someone who was still in what was supposed to be his deathbed.
But he quickly erased any thought of hostility. After all, her teeth were far sharper than his. He still carried some scars from their childhood.
"At least it's not a stupid joke… But you owe me one. And you know how spiteful I can be."
"I know you would like it. It was a book you used to like so much," she said, her eyes sparkling. "And you didn't say anything while I was writing it. It doesn't even take up that much space."
How was an unconscious man supposed to defend himself?
"You're not fooling anyone with that guilty puppy look," he said, nearly rolling his eyes. "Who asked you to do this… Fiona?"
Without a doubt, this was his final prosthesis—the one closest to perfection, and also the one he would never be able to remove. Even if it still had certain flaws, he had absolutely no desire to walk around with such an absurd quote etched into him for the rest of his life.
"I'll be waiting outside," Lydia said hastily as she headed for the door, making sure to slam it shut behind her. "Uncle Verascus and Fiona are waiting for us."
Letting out a long sigh, Finn reluctantly put on his shirt before leaving the room.
He turned back, casting one last glance at the unremarkable building with its immaculate white walls and the smell of dead rats that lingered within—but also a place where something utterly mad yet revolutionary had occurred.
After all, who would believe that a man could change his heart?
Even so, this revolution was not so absolute, considering it had been carried out on a heartless boy.
"Let's go," Finn said as he closed the door behind him, making sure to give Lydia one last dark look.
He observed the city streets for a while, his gaze almost nostalgic. Even though the sun was slow to rise, preparations for the Independence Festival were already in full swing. Families wandered through the city's stalls, waiting for the fireworks. Judging by their carefree smiles, no one would believe that humanity had been facing an existential threat for centuries—and that its survival was constantly at risk.
"Little Fiona sent me a good hundred Phrems asking about your condition," Lydia said, nudging him with her elbow. "I'm almost jealous. You're really lucky to have a twin like her. Even Uncle Verascus would've come if your investors didn't avoid him like the plague."
"Yeah," Finn replied in a resigned tone, rubbing his face. "They're more wary of him than a woman suspected of adultery."
"Not your questionable metaphors again—"
Falling feathers and the continuous sound of beating wings forced Lydia to blink and look up at the sky, where scraps of newspapers drifted down from above.
'Truth Seeker…'
The largest news agency in the world—and the only one capable of delivering newspapers even to such distant lands. If they had deemed the event worthy of being spread all around the world, then it surely did not bode well.
Finn snatched one out of the air, skimming the front page.
"What does it say?" Lydia asked, peeking over his shoulder.
"Nothing important," Finn replied, tossing the paper into a nearby trash bin. "They're claiming Freya is displeased, and that it's the reason the Domes are multiplying. As if they want us to believe our survival depends on the whims of someone who's been supposed dead for ages."
"You know people have been thrown in jail for less," Lydia said nervously, shaking her head. "Anyway… all we can do is hope it never reaches us."
Also known as Freya's Vice, the Eternal Dome was a trial imposed by Freya, the Celestial Half-Angel, meant to test humanity fairly and prepare it for a phenomenon unknown to all called the Fall.
No one knew its true origin, nor its actual purpose.
But one thing was certain:
The Dome was anything but fair.
How could something be considered fair when it swallowed an unknown portion of the planet within an impenetrable barrier, stole half the souls of everything inside, and granted the survivors no more than ten minutes to escape?
Once deployed, no one had ever escaped an Eternal Dome in its 326 years of existence.
Finn and Lydia walked until they noticed a small crowd gathered in the public square, surrounding the Statue of Resilience—a half-naked young woman bearing a massive boulder on her shoulders.
"That's the third time this month," Finn commented, his eyes drawn to the makeshift wooden platform erected at the statue's base.
"Yes, it happens quite often in Renosa," Lydia replied as a woman was dragged onto the stage. "Especially now that transfusions are so widespread and the crime rate has exploded. Guess that's what happens when you get a strength you can't understand."
The woman was striking, even with her eyes gouged out and her tunic worn and torn.
"But still… executing people in the middle of the city, like in the Middle Ages."
"Only fire can kill the hope of the relentless,' they say," Lydia shrugged.
Unlike the previous executions they had witnessed, this one felt different.
This time, the condemned was not some random Luminescent, but a well-known Scarlet Diviner—Selena Noir. She was infamous for spreading chaos across multiple villages and attempting to incite a revolution in Renosa through false prophecies.
As the inquisitor approached to perform the Requiem, the crowd collectively held its breath while Selena was chained to the statue with steel restraints.
Despite her helpless state, an inexplicable sense of unease settled over the square.
Despite the level of threat attributed to her, she was in a dissociative state, firmly bound and deprived of sight—the most precious sense for a Diviner.
After all, what kind of future could a dazzled foresee?
At last, holding a canister of Armastine, the inquisitor—a yellow-haired woman clad in gleaming armor—stepped forward and poured the entire fluorescent liquid over Selena's head.
"In what do you believe?" the inquisitor asked, in accordance with the Requiem, before stepping back.
Selena tilted her head, her gaze fixed straight ahead into the void.
For the first time, her expressionless face shifted.
Her lips slowly curled into a wide smile as she announced.
"We are all going to die," she said, her words drowning out the murmurs around her.
Seeing her refusal to follow the ritual, the inquisitor drew her sword, from which a reddish vapor slowly seeped.
She lowered its tip to the ground. Sparks burst forth and kissed the blue flames of the Armastine.
The fire quickly spread, crawling toward Selena.
Selena, however, continued regardless.
"You can't progress when you're afraid of taking the first step forward. You bastards and cowards are the shame of huma—"
She stopped abruptly.
Her mouth was burning.
In fact, her entire body was engulfed in flames.
A scream of agony tore from her throat as bluish fire devoured her flesh, ripping it apart.
"Let's go," Lydia said, stepping away from the statue.
"But why are you leaving so suddenly like that?" Finn asked, quickening his pace to catch up with her. "You could've told me if you were afraid of seeing blood."
"Are you serious?" Lydia gave him a completely deadpan look. "Of all people, you're asking me that question?"
She pinched the bridge of her nose before continuing.
"Just because it doesn't provoke any emotion in me doesn't mean I'm forced to watch it first thing in the morning."
"Calm down," Finn said, raising his hands in resignation. "This is your city. I'm just passing through. It's not my fault people are executed like cattle here."
"Here," Lydia said, digging into her pocket and pulling out a dozen red and blue pills inside a transparent bag. "That completely killed my appetite. I'll just put them back before the festivities."
"Thanks," Finn said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure those are constipation pills. You mixed them up again. At this rate, you must be doing it on purpose…"
"Ah."
She quickly grabbed them back and threw them into a nearby trash bin before walking away.
"I'll go get ready. I'll bring you the right ones later."
She's going to drive me crazy, that girl…
"Finally, some peace of mind," Finn muttered as he stretched his arms and continued on his way, his steps light.
They were finally going to leave this island.
As he walked, his mind suddenly went blank.
His heart pounded wildly as darkness swallowed his senses.
His new prosthesis was still in its probationary phase, and he was far from being fully adapted to it.
Little by little, his eyelids lifted.
The world regained some color.
A female voice echoed near him as a young couple approached.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "I saw you stumble over thin air a good dozen times."
Finn stiffened, offering them a resigned smile before resuming his march.
"Heart problems…"
What a day it was to be alive.