He felt his throat turn unbearably dry just by standing in the presence of the boy. The boy was a child, his features still soft and unrefined by age, yet the crest that shimmered faintly on his chest was enough to strike terror into the marrow of men.
It was the living proof of a bloodline that tremored the hearts of every single soul across Alaris.
Even if the Lancasters were hailed as protectors, guardians who stood as pillars of Alaris, their name carried something far greater than admiration.
They were revered because of their strength, yes, but that same strength twisted into something darker within the minds of others.
Fear that turned even the most hardened men brittle. Fear that choked breath from lungs before blades could ever touch skin.
The Lancasters were not simply the strongest in Alaris. They were the strongest across all of Cronica. Their reputation was an iron hammer pressed into the very foundations of the world.
Especially those whose hands were not clean. Especially those who bore even a splinter of guilt.
And leaving a little girl alone in the streets to be assaulted, after kidnapping her no less was not a mere splinter. It was a dagger of shame, buried deep in the chest.
"I... I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you alright? Did you get hurt?"
The boy’s voice rang out softly, carrying an innocence that clashed with the weight of his name. Concern bloomed in his tone. But to the burly man who stood before him, hunched and trembling, those gentle words did not sound like comfort.
They sounded like death threats.
The man paled instantly, sweat dripping down his temples in thick streams. His throat convulsed, his chest heaved, and his knees nearly gave way beneath him.
"I-I-I didn’t do anything! I’m innocent! I swear! I’m truly innocent... I didn’t do anything..."
The words tumbled out of him, sharp, fragmented, and desperate. His tongue tripped over itself, stammering the same plea again and again, but the more he repeated, the less anyone believed him.
The people around began to stir. Their eyes turned, not with pity, but with venom. Their whispers slithered through the air.
"Not only are these filthy rats polluting our city with their stench, now they’ve gone completely mad as well."
"Pathetic. Such creatures should be dragged out into the streets and executed. Eradicated down to the last one. Tell me, what will other cities think of us if they see people shamelessly roaming about?"
"Hmph! Look at him, shaking, babbling like a fool. Instead of apologizing for bumping into the young master, he dares spin nonsense. Must be a thief caught red-handed, trying to feign ignorance."
"Yes. A thief, a beggar, a parasite. Nothing more."
The whispers snowballed.
The amethyst-haired boy’s voice was not loud, but it carried weight. His eyes, bright and burning with youthful fire, swept across the crowd.
"I know you are all concerned for your city’s reputation. For your home’s pride. But listen to yourselves. Undermining others, spitting on their painful life... Do you truly believe this is the way to preserve dignity? Tell me, what do you know of this man’s life?"
The crowd shifted uneasily, but no one spoke.
The boy’s gaze sharpened. "Would any of you willingly become someone like him? Would you choose that misery? No. Of course not. Then don’t stand there and look down on him as though you are above it all."
His words rang with sincerity. For a brief moment, silence fell. The boy’s expression softened, though his chest rose and fell heavily from the outburst.
And then, as though realizing the weight of his own rebellion, he quickly lowered his head. His voice shrank, trembling.
"I... I apologize. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I didn’t mean to offend you. Those words were my true feelings, and if they reached you in any way, then... I will be very pleased."
The silence shattered.
"Oh, don’t worry, young master Cassius. We understand. We fully understand your heart," one voice piped up from the crowd, its tone dipped in honey. "It’s just... these people, they make our blood boil."
"Yes, young master," another added, this one smoother, calculated. "Most of these slum dwellers are nothing but remnants, prisoners of war, carrying hatred for our continent in their bones. Their venom seeps into their children, into their children’s children. We are simply reciprocating their animosity. Nothing more."
Murmurs of agreement spread, soft and false.
A third voice, older, darker. "We do understand they didn’t choose to be born this way... but in the end, they did. Their fathers chose. Their grandfathers chose. This is the path their blood carved for them. Surely you, of all people, must understand this best."
The words struck like a spear.
"As it was your father," the man finished, "who made them ."
Cassius gulped, his throat dried, his fingers curled into tiny fists that trembled faintly.
"Haah..." A sigh slipped out. He steadied himself, pressing down the restlessness clawing at his chest. Calming his breath, he stepped toward the stammering, broken man before him. "Sir, are you okay? Do you need water?"
"I-I-I didn’t do it!! I DIDN’T DO IT!! I didn’t do it—didn’t do it—didn’t do it..."
The man’s words collapsed in on themselves. His eyes were unfocused, whites rolling slightly, and spit clung to his lips as he kept shaking his head over and over again. He was beyond reason.
Cassius felt a heaviness settle on his chest. This man... his mind was gone.
"Wait," Cassius muttered under his breath. "I’ll bring you back home."
Quickly, he bent and pulled the man’s left arm across his shoulder, wrapping it securely behind his neck before pushing upward with his legs.
The burly frame weighed heavily, sagging against him, but Cassius adjusted, supporting the bulk with deliberate steps.
He turned toward the crowd that had gathered, his gaze resting on the nearest bystander. "Where is the slum area?"
The woman he addressed flinched, shoulders jerking as though she had been accused of something.
But after a quick glance around, she pointed east with a quiver in her voice. "I-It’s that way. Toward the east. If you keep going deeper, you’ll find more of the slum dwellers. You can ask them... they’ll know."
Cassius bowed lightly. "Thank you."
With that, he tightened his grip around the man and started walking toward the east, his steps steady but cautious.
The further he went, the narrower the roads became, the air growing damp and tinged with the acrid smell of rot and waste.
Just as the woman had said, more slum dwellers appeared as he went deeper. Ragged figures, gaunt bodies, and eyes that looked starved. But none of their gazes were welcoming.
Especially not when they landed on the man Cassius was supporting. Their stares hardened, brimming with suspicion.
’They don’t trust him,’ Cassius thought grimly. ’Or maybe they know something I don’t.’
Either way, their hostility only pushed him to move further in. If he stopped now, he’d be crushed by those judging eyes. He needed to find someone who could be trusted with the man’s care.
Minutes dragged by, each step carrying him through alleys that seemed to close in on themselves, until he finally reached what felt like a threshold.
A massive warehouse rose into view, its structure worn and battered by time. The walls were streaked with green, algae crawling along its surface.
But what caught his attention wasn’t the building itself—it was the people.
Dozens of slum dwellers were lined up at the entrance, filing in one by one. The line snaked toward the doors like a trail of ants, each figure disappearing into the dim maw of the warehouse.
Cassius narrowed his eyes. "Are they distributing something?" he murmured to himself. "Food, money, clothes... or maybe work."
For the first time since stepping into this place, warmth flickered in his chest. Hope. The idea that perhaps, amidst this despair, there was someone trying to give these people a sliver of relief.
But the warmth was quickly doused.
"Hey, look at this young master," a coarse voice cackled. "Isn’t he an eye candy too? Looks like the bastard found another prey... a boy this time."
"Maybe he kidnapped him for us ladies," another sneered, her laugh grating. "The men have been enjoying themselves for a while. Maybe he thought it was our turn."
"Ahahahahaha!" Their laughter was sharp, jagged, and hollow.
Cassius’s chest tightened. His breath grew shallow. Doubt began to coil in his gut.
’Kidnap?’ His thoughts spun. ’What do they mean by kidnap? Surely they don’t mean...’
The burly man hit the ground. Cassius had dropped him without hesitation, his body moving faster than his reason. Amethyst mana surged to his legs, crackling faintly in the air, and he launched himself forward in a blur.
He tore through the line of slum dwellers like a storm, shoving aside anyone in his way. Shouts rose in protest, curses rained, but he didn’t hear them.
His mind was roaring, a single thought pounding against his skull: No. Not her. Please, not her.
He crashed into the warehouse, breath sharp in his lungs—
Inside, surrounded by tens of slum dwellers, was a figure he recognized instantly.
A girl he knew far, far too well.
"Hey!! Who’s this little brat! Who let him in here?!" one voice barked.
"Wait, doesn’t he look like a noble?" another sneered. "Did he come here to find his precious friend?"
"These pathetic fools can’t even stop a child," a third spat. "Truly shameful."
Their voices washed over him like dull static. His amethyst eyes burned, the violet glow bleeding until, in the next heartbeat, they turned—