Blaze lyed down,he was thinking about and seeing his runes:
Name: Blaze
True Name: Last Judgement
Rank: Dreamer.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Soul Fragments: [120/1000].
Memories: [Greyscale Sword][Sensory Armour]
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Child of Excorsim], [Mark of Divinity], [Nephilim]
Aspect: [Spirit of Vengeance]
Aspect Rank: Divine.
Aspect Abilities: [Hellfire Manipualtion].
Flaw: [Punisher]
Description: [Justice is a two street,Even for a executioner and he always temptation to punish]
Blaze stared at the Flaw hovering at the edge of his perception — that quiet, persistent anomaly that had refused to activate since the moment he had first noticed it. He turned the thought over in his mind slowly, like examining a blade for hairline cracks.
For some reason, the Flaw hasn't activated yet.
He exhaled through his nose and shifted his gaze upward toward the pale, washed-out sky of the Forgotten Shore. It stretched above him like a canvas that had never been properly finished — too bright in some places, too hollow in others. Everything here carried that quality. Incomplete. Waiting.
It's going to bite back eventually. I can feel it in my gut. And when it does, I still won't have even the simplest idea of what to do about it.
He let that thought settle without fighting it. There was no use pretending otherwise.
His eyes drifted down from the sky and landed on the camp. Nephis sat cross-legged a short distance away, deep in meditation, her silver hair catching the pale light like threads of cold fire. Nearby, Sunny moved through a series of sword forms — deliberate, unhurried, each motion carrying the quiet intensity of someone who understood that survival was built one repetition at a time.
Blaze watched them both for a long moment.
Do I need to stay with Nephis and keep assisting her goal?
The question had been sitting in the back of his mind for days now, quiet but persistent. He already knew how he felt about her plan — the way she regarded the people of the Forgotten Shore as variables in an equation rather than lives with weight and consequence. The idea of using them as sacrifices, even in service of some greater purpose, left a cold residue in his chest that he couldn't quite scrub clean.
I clearly hate how she intends to use the people here. But then again, do I want to stay in this place forever?
The answer to that, at least, was simple.
Maybe I can reduce the bloodshed if I stay close enough to matter. But will she even listen to me? Or will she simply move forward the way she always does — like a river that has already decided where it's going?
He had no answer. Only time would give him one.
Blaze closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, letting the distant sound of Sunny's sword cutting air fill the quiet around him.
"Blaze, are you asleep?"
He opened his eyes. Cassie was picking her way carefully toward him, navigating the uneven ground with the cautious grace of someone who had long since learned to move through a world she could not fully see. He rose slightly and shifted to meet her halfway.
"No," he said, once she was close enough. "Just had my eyes closed."
Cassie settled beside him, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Then something clicked in Blaze's mind — a question he had been meaning to ask, one that had been waiting quietly in the back of his thoughts ever since he had first begun to understand the nature of her ability.
"Actually, Cass — I need your help with something."
Cassie turned toward him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. It was the kind of expression that suggested she hadn't expected to be useful in whatever matter was at hand. "Sure," she said simply.
"You can see people's attributes, right?" Blaze said, keeping his tone even. "I was wondering — have you ever encountered anyone in the academy with attributes similar to mine? Anything that matched?"
I need to find out more about the [Nephilim] attribute. Whether it's unique to me or whether there's a precedent somewhere.
Cassie's eyes moved to him — not quite meeting his gaze the way a sighted person would, but oriented toward him with that particular attentiveness she carried. She held the look for a beat, and then said quietly:
"I can't."
Blaze blinked. "Why not?"
"Because," Cassie said, her voice careful and precise, as though she was choosing each word with intention, "I can't see your attributes."
Blaze felt the words land somewhere in his chest before his mind had fully processed them. His eyes widened slightly.
What...? Is it because I'm not originally from this world? Because I came from outside?
He kept his expression neutral. "Then what do you see when you look at me?"
Cassie paused for only a moment.
"Empty," she said.
Blaze let out a long, slow breath. "Well," he said after a beat, "alright then."
He filed the information away in silence. It was strange — not frightening, exactly, but strange in the way that a door with no handle was strange. Something was there. It simply refused to be opened by conventional means.
The quiet stretched out comfortably between them. Then Cassie tilted her head slightly and asked, "What are you planning to do after you escape this place?"
Blaze thought about the question — genuinely thought about it, rather than reaching for whatever answer came most quickly. When he finally spoke, his tone carried the honest weight of someone who had checked and found nothing waiting for them.
"Honestly? I don't know. I haven't planned that far ahead."
Cassie nodded slowly. "What about your family? Do you have people waiting for you?"
The question fell into the air between them, and somewhere behind it, Blaze heard the quiet shift of movement. He glanced over without making it obvious — Nephis had finished her meditation and was sitting with them now, near enough to hear. Sunny had lowered his sword and drifted closer too, both of them making no particular effort to pretend they weren't listening.
Blaze looked back at the middle distance.
"My family is dead," he said.
The words came out flat, not because he was performing composure, but because he had long since passed the stage where saying it aloud felt like tearing something open. It was simply a fact now — one of the heavy, settled kind that had stopped bleeding years ago.
Cassie's expression shifted immediately. Something gentle and grieved moved across her features. Even Sunny, for all his usual detachment, went still for a moment.
"I'm sorry," Cassie said softly. Then, after a breath: "How did it happen?"
"An explosion," Blaze said. "My entire family was killed. I was the only one who survived."
The silence that followed was a particular kind — not uncomfortable, but full. The kind that forms when words would only diminish what's already been said.
Then Cassie reached over and wrapped her arms around him. It was not a hesitant gesture. It was the straightforward, unambiguous kind of comfort that required no explanation and asked for nothing in return. Blaze didn't pull away. For a moment, the four of them simply existed in the quiet weight of it.
It was Sunny who finally spoke.
"Alright," he said, his voice carrying its familiar dry edge. "Let's break up this gloom before it settles in for good."
Cassie released Blaze and leaned back, and the tension in the air dissolved into something lighter, though not entirely without texture. She managed a small smile. "Yes — tell us something. A story, maybe. The one about the skeleton was good, but..." She paused. "Something with a happier ending this time."
Sunny and Nephis both looked at him. Neither said anything, but the attention was unmistakable.
Blaze was quiet for a moment, turning something over in his mind. Then he began.
"The story is about two people — Vaner and Layla.
"In a particular kingdom, there lived a king with a daughter of extraordinary beauty — a woman named Layla, whose radiance was said to draw the attention of gods and evil spirits alike. Her father, wishing to honor his daughter's autonomy above all things, declared that any who wished to wed her must first attend a grand gathering, so that Layla herself could choose her own husband.
"Gods and demons and spirits of every kind answered the invitation. And among those who came was a mortal king — a man named Vaner.
"Layla and Vaner saw each other across the hall, and that was the end of it. There was no deliberation, no careful weighing of options. It simply was, the way certain things simply are.
"The gods and evil spirits, watching, read the certainty in Layla's heart. In desperation and envy, they each transformed their appearances to perfectly mirror Vaner's — his face, his build, his bearing — until the hall was filled with copies, each one indistinguishable from the last.
"Layla stood before a crowd of identical faces, every one of them claiming to be the man she loved.
"But Layla did not panic. She thought carefully, and she used her wits — and in time, through means that only she could have devised, she identified the true Vaner and chose him as her husband.
"The gods dispersed, some of them gracious enough to offer their blessings. But one demon — one particular spirit, black with rage at having been outwitted — refused to accept the outcome. He could not take Layla from Vaner by force. So instead, he chose patience. He chose slow ruin.
"First, he tricked Vaner into a series of losses — one misfortune layered carefully upon the next, each one appearing natural — until Vaner had lost his wealth, his title, and his kingdom. The demon stripped everything away until there was nothing left but a man and a woman and a stretch of forest, and the last few coins Vaner had managed to keep hold of.
"Vaner, standing in those trees with everything gone, felt the full weight of his failure. He looked at Layla — who had never once complained, who had followed him without hesitation through every loss — and he felt something break quietly inside him.
"One night, while Layla slept, he pressed his last savings into her hand and left. He walked away from her into the dark, carrying nothing but a vow: I will reclaim what was taken. I will return to her as something worthy of her.
"Layla woke to find him gone. She understood immediately — not just that he had left, but why. She rose without bitterness and went looking for him.
"And so they moved through the world separately, searching, each driven forward by something the other couldn't see.
"Vaner, after long wandering, came to the threshold of the God of Death and struck a bargain. In exchange for power enough to reclaim his kingdom — power enough to defeat every enemy who had conspired against him — he would pay with eighteen days. Eighteen days after his kingdom was restored, Death would come to collect what was owed.
"Vaner accepted without hesitation.
"He went to war, and he won. He walked back into his kingdom through gates he had once been driven out of, and the people who had usurped him were swept aside. He reclaimed every stone of it.
"And Layla, who had been searching, arrived at the threshold of her restored kingdom to find him waiting.
"Vaner told her everything — the bargain, the price, the eighteen days remaining. He wanted no deception between them. He made her queen, as he had always intended, and he held nothing back.
"Layla spent those eighteen days searching for a loophole — some clause, some technicality, some crack in the terms of the deal that might give her a way out. She found nothing.
"On the eighteenth day, the God of Death came.
"He came quietly, without theater, the way Death tends to arrive. He took Vaner's soul and turned to leave.
"Layla followed him.
"The God of Death walked, and she walked behind him. He crossed into realms where mortals did not go, and she followed. He moved through the spaces between worlds, through the deep and wordless dark where time did not count itself in years, and she followed.
"Death turned and looked at her. 'Why are you following me?' he asked.
"'Because you have my husband,' she said. 'And where he goes, I go.'
"Death continued walking. She continued following.
"This went on for what might have been years or ages — it was not the kind of time that could be measured. Death walked and she walked, through every threshold he crossed, through every barrier that should have stopped her. She did not beg. She did not argue. She simply refused, with absolute quiet persistence, to stop.
"And at last — at long, long last — the God of Death stopped walking.
"He turned and looked at the woman who had followed him to the edges of everything without once asking for his pity.
"He released Vaner's soul.
"And the two of them returned to the world, and lived the rest of their life together."
The story ended and no one spoke immediately.
Cassie had a small, genuine smile on her face — the kind that arrived slowly and meant more for it. "That was a good one," she said.
Sunny, however, looked thoughtful in the particular way he looked when something had snagged on a corner of his mind and wouldn't let go. "Why would both of them go that far, though?" he said. "Vaner making a deal with Death in the first place, Layla chasing after him into... wherever that was. It all seems a bit—" He paused, searching for the word. "Excessive."
Blaze considered the question for a moment, then said:
"Because, as a legend once put it — love is the most twisted curse of all."
The words settled into the air. Blaze let them sit there.
Then, almost without meaning to, his gaze drifted sideways — first to Sunny, then to Nephis. He held the thought behind his eyes for just a moment, turning it over once.
I wonder... does that phrase suit the two of them?
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I changed the true Name and Flaw is also changed