Techyon stood before the weathered door of a run-down apartment complex, checking the address on his screen for the tenth time.
"An S-Rank Adventurer... staying here?" Techyon muttered, looking at the peeling paint. "I thought these guys sat on mountains of gold. Why is he in a place like this?"
He reached out and pushed the door open. He didn't even have time to breathe before the hallway erupted in a searing orange glow. A Fireball, condensed and roaring with the intensity of a jet engine, screamed toward his face.
Flicker.
Techyon's body moved before his brain could process the threat. He leaned an inch to the left, the heat of the flame singeing the air where his head had been a millisecond before. The fireball slammed into the brick wall behind him, dissipating into smoke.
"You actually dodged it," a calm voice drifted from the darkness of the room.
Techyon straightened his jacket, his eyes glowing with a faint, defensive light. "I thought you called me here to talk, Cinder. Not to turn me into charcoal."
Cinder sat on the edge of a simple wooden chair, his shadow stretching across the floor. "Sit. We have things to discuss that the Association's ears aren't ready for."
Techyon walked in and sat on the edge of the unmade bed, his muscles still tense. "Alright. I'm here. Why the secrecy?"
Cinder leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto Techyon's eyes. "You have Light-Typing. You're from the Light Clan, aren't you?"
Light Clan? Techyon thought, his heart skipping a beat. What is that? I need to play this carefully... he might know about my father.
"How do you know what my typing is?" Techyon asked aloud, keeping his face a mask of 'Standard' boredom.
"Fourteen years have passed," Cinder whispered, looking at his own scarred palms. "I never thought I would see that specific light again. Tell me, kid... do you know about That War?"
Techyon paused. "You mean the myth? Everyone knows the story. They say fourteen years ago, a single person wiped out sixty million Monarchs with a single attack. People call him the Arcon of Hope. But that's just a bedtime story to scare kids, right?"
"I was twelve years old when the sky turned white that day," Cinder said, his voice trembling slightly. "It wasn't a story. It was a massacre of gods. How old are you, Techyon?"
"I'm sixteen."
"That's why you don't remember the smell of the ozone or the way the world stopped breathing," Cinder sighed. He looked at Techyon with a strange mix of pity and awe. "You talk like you're looking for answers. Do you even know who your family is?"
Techyon gripped the edge of the bedsheet. "I... I remember their names. But their faces are a blur. My mother, Shogun. My older sister, Cynthia. And my father... Arax."
Cinder's eyes widened at the names. A heavy silence filled the room, thicker than any dungeon boss's aura.
"Do you have any idea what they were?" Cinder asked.
"No. I was told they were just... gone."
"Your mother, Shogun... she was the Electro Arcon," Cinder revealed, his voice dropping to a respectful hush. "I don't know much about your sister, Cynthia, but your father..."
Techyon stood up, his voice cracking. "My father. Tell me. Who was he?"
Cinder looked up at him, the reflection of the sunset catching the tears in his eyes.
"Your father is the Arcon of Hope, Techyon. You don't have 'Standard' blood in your veins. You have the Blood of Hope. You are the son of the man who ended the world to save it."