Kallen mulled over his options, weighing each explanation he could give. Saying he was pushing his body to its utmost limits before awakening sounded reasonable, even commendable. But it was also riddled with inconsistencies—holes that someone like Ariel, with his razor-sharp intellect, could easily poke through.
Telling them he had a target he was trying to reach with his physique? Even worse. That would invite too many questions. How did he even know such a thing was possible? Where did he get that kind of knowledge?
Answering truthfully... No lying wouldn't even work... he was in the presence of Saints.
That would mean revealing something far more dangerous than his lack of a bloodline activation. It would mean telling them about Earth. About reincarnation.
And that was a can of worms he had no intention of opening.
He had no idea how this world treated reincarnators. Was it a common phenomenon? A rare one? Or was it something only whispered about in the shadows, known only to those few who had experienced it themselves? He did know they existed, a living example being himself, but did they know?
If this place worked anything like Earth, then the outcome was obvious. Any anomaly—especially one as valuable as reincarnation—would be seized and studied, experimented on, dissected if necessary. Humanity had always sought to understand the unknown, often with terrifying cruelty. There was no reason to believe this world would be any different.
This world was worse.
Here, the influence of the Existential Compendium had shaped reality into a brutal arena where survival was a currency, and morality was merely an illusion. There was no need for secrecy in committing atrocities. When killing was a requirement for evolution, how could good and evil even exist?
The mere rumor of a reincarnator, would spark a frenzy. Every faction, every apex power, would fight to capture and study him.
After all, if one could reincarnate endlessly, what need was there to fear death?
More terrifying was the potential of returning to birth with full memories intact, in the same world. The implications were staggering. A mere nobody could become an apex sovereign. A slave could become a ruler. A trash could become a god.
And Kallen wasn't naïve enough to think he'd be left alone if the truth ever got out.
Some would seek to make him a lab rat. Others would seek to eliminate him before he could ever fall into the hands of those they felt would abuse such power... Hypocrites! And those who couldn't capture or control him? They would try to destroy him outright.
The universe was cruel. If you had an advantage, you wielded it mercilessly. If your enemy had one, you crippled it without hesitation.
Even Azarel and Ariel, for all their amiable facades, were still unknown variables. They were his teachers, Azarel was his grandfather and Ariel his granduncle, but caution was survival. Even if they decided to protect him, he couldn't say so about the other Saints.
In his case, Lyra was different. He had taken a massive gamble entrusting her with his truth. A decision he didn't know if he'd come to regret or not in the future.
Even Veronica, her closest aide, was aware—though that part didn't bother him. Lyra had her under an iron grip of loyalty. If the worst came to worst, Lyra would kill her without hesitation. Even though by that time his life would already be in danger... He might start thinking of the possibility of killing her before any wrong could happen.
However, the real problem was Lyra herself.
As much as he loved his mother, a life shaped by betrayal, made trust a fragile thing. He didn't want to believe she would ever turn against him, but if she did...
He felt his soul tightened, and his breathing hitched. His mind almost collapsed, but in the next second, a chilly, resolute light burned in the depth of his eyes.
He had done it once before, one other time wouldn't hurt that much... Right?
A scene flashed before his eyes.
A streak of lightning illuminated the dark, rain-soaked sky, momentarily lighting up the deserted urban street. The relentless rain pounded against rooftops and pavements, drumming out a somber beat.
"Why?" a man asked, his voice low and husky.
He had dark charcoal hair that plastered to his forehead under the rain, and his eyes, an equally deep shade, seemed to bore into the soul of the woman in his arms.
The woman, coughed up blood, her body racking with violent spasms. She choked on her own fluids as blood streamed down her lips, mingling with the rain that poured down her face.
"I never wanted you to leave!". She said hysterically, then slowly she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. "I didn't want you to leave me" Tears streaked down her face, indistinguishable from the raindrops.
The man's cold eyes stayed locked onto her face, unreadable and unyielding.
"You're foolish," he said, his voice steeped in apathy. Then, raising a brow, he added with quiet disdain, "Did you even consider what would happen if they got their hands on me? Clearly, you didn't. If you had, you wouldn't be here... slowly dying."
His gaze lifted to the storm-ridden sky, the rain painting trails down his sharp features. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with anger and something dangerously close to grief.
"You betrayed me, Annie."
A tremor ran through her fragile body, her breath hitching. But when he looked down at her again, all traces of emotion had vanished from his face, as if they had never been there to begin with.
"It's already done," he said flatly. "I never expected things to go smoothly anyways. The clan is not that incompetent. However..."
A dangerous gleam flashed in his eyes.
"... As many they send, is as many I will kill."
Without another glance, he let go, dropping her weak, trembling form onto the cold, rain-soaked ground. Then he turned and walked away, his steps unhurried, purposeful.
Panic flared in her eyes.
"Caleb?" she called, her voice barely more than a whisper.
With desperate effort, she tried to push herself up, only to realize—her limbs would not obey. A chilling horror crawled up her spine.
"Caleb!" she cried out, louder this time. The rain swallowed her voice, but still, he did not halt.
Terror clawed at her throat. She struggled, helpless, as his figure moved farther away, swallowed by the shadows of the storm.
"CALEB!" she shrieked desperately.
But he never turned back, his back disappearing to the shadows.
"Love made you weak, as much as it did me."
The words echoed in Kallen's mind, the same words he had said in his mind concerning Luiz, when he had appeared in the Sacred Grove before his birthday.
Kallen had sworn to live this life on his own terms. He refused to be hunted, to be shackled, to live as someone else's pawn. He had already tasted servitude on Earth, already endured the suffocating chains of a life dictated by others. He didn't plan on doing so again... Never.
If securing his freedom made him a sinner, then so be it. He would shoulder that burden of sin in his heart knowing he had caused it himself. He would kill, if he had to.
If he was ever going to put on chains, then he must be the one to put them on himself, and be the slave driver to hold the reins.
If achieving his goals required him to become a demon, then he would be a smiling demon.