Kirk Donaldson always had the appearance and stupor of a drunken idiot, spending all his nights lounging in bars and the like, everyone believing that he wanted to experience the last years of his life as an old man the best he could. That was a lie of course.
A hard to keep up facade which he had to deal with every day in order to stay covert. That could include actually going to bars and inns and getting drunk and rowdy or just using that as an excuse, but in the end it was all controlled. Every action and word to every person he ever spoke to. Controlled.
Kirk woke up at the same time every single day to the second; went out to work at the exact same time to the second as well; worked in the Academy to the exact same time to the second every time and eventually went home or got drunk at a bar or inn at the same time every day. He even ensured that he always got to sleep at the same time every day no matter what situation he was in. In order to keep control and order, he had to.
An extremely scarce number of people knew the truth behind his actions, including his best friend, the Guild Master himself. And all who knew wouldn't dare disturb his routine; not even the Guild Master.
"Who are you?" said Kirk, noticing a man emitting such blood-lust that anyone inexperienced enough would simply drop to the floor, unconscious. This man who dared to enter a sacred building such as the Academy, and a man who dared disturb his slumber, would surely face his questioning if that man's answer didn't please Kirk.
"Just a man passing through. None of your business" that man replied rudely, making Kirk open his eyes. The man's face looked familiar but the rest of his appearance certainly did not. A cloak made from shadow itself, two daggers holstered at his waist, a war-torn tunic and a thirst for blood. Not only that, but he disturbed his rest.
"Answer me" Kirk raised his voice, vehemence dripping from every syllable he spoke. A primeval fear began to well-up inside of Lucan. He, in search for Sun, had gone to the Academy, the place he should be around midday but was instead stopped by the receptionist, who both didn't recognise him, but seemed different to how he usually acted when Lanyon always saw him. And just as Lucan was about to contest Kirk, he realised something. He was... scared of someone?
Had he ever felt scared of someone before? Even when facing an opponent stronger than him, he never felt scared. Lucan simply had a will to survive and so ran or fought accordingly in face of that opponent. But he had never felt scared. At least when he had felt scared he only felt it when he was a child. Yet, this didn't feel like his own fright at all either.
It was almost as if the very soul inside of him was scared of this being. It then hit him. Igo had always told him of a real man more akin to the bogeyman than anyone in the entire world, even over Obelisk:
"Gods, much like ourselves and Alandriel, Lucan, were tiered into three sections. First, there was the lesser gods, whose souls almost all of humanity holds in our hearts. Then, there was the upper and royal gods. These gods' souls lay only among a certain few of humanities patrons such as those in the platinum ranks of the Guild. The royal gods of this section also held control over the primal elements of the world, such as light and dark, order and chaos, life and death. But even above that was the elder gods.
"There were two gods, Galem and Gaia, who both died in the cataclysm, who occupied this tier. And these gods held sway over space and time itself, respectively. Yet another god was born, a god who was and not a god all at the same time. A god born out of the greatest fears and evils of all the royal and elder gods. This thing who could hardly be referred to as a god was simply called Warlock, and held power of the-"
"Sinful Arts: Humility" Kirk needn't speak loud to confirm Lucan's suspicions. Kirk was the wielder of the arts of the god of sin, Warlock. When the bogeyman supposedly got angry, not a single mortal not even a god in fact could harm him because of a simple reason. All living, conscious beings are scared of something. All of them have wants and needs. All of them will sin and do evil once in their life to obtain those wants and needs. And so, in front of all their evil deeds, the greatest men will crumble. Lucan, in face of all of his pride, fell to his knees and could only look at the impossibly powerful man in front on him in awe. "Now that you have lost a bit of your pride, let's continue. Who are you and why are you here?"
"I... am- Lu- ...can dus... dus-" the words were being wrenched from Lucan's mind, chattering and shivering out of his mouth, while he attempted futilely to resist this man's control. Tears began to well up in the corner of his eyes, bloodshot from the strain that the man in front of him was subjecting himself to.
"Never mind that. I've grasped who you are." at the uttering of that sentence, the un-moving grip on Lucan ceased to exist, and he collapsed to the floor, struggling to find a scrap of breath for his spasming body begging for help after attempting to refuse that man's subjugation, or rather, violation, of Lucan's feeble mind and strength, "You want to kill that boy. I'll accept it, however only once. And bring harm to any of the others, you shall feel my wrath." Kirk finished, leaving Lucan to ponder how what he had just experienced wasn't even his full anger.
"Another thing." Kirk began to add, just as Lucan began to relax again, before tensing up once more, "Soon you will face a man so lacking in any sin or earthly desire at all, that even your immovable pride wouldn't be able comprehend that a thing like that exists. It will learn from the sins of this world, and laugh in the face of them, allowing itself to be forged into the antithesis of sin itself. Even I wouldn't be able to touch it. You must teach it everything you know, so that it would be able to realise how flawed your way of thinking truly is. Then, it will learn to be diligent and act properly from the definition of sloth, after forcing even a man of that indolence to act in the face of evil. And after all that, he will come to know a man overcome by his own anger, and subject him to the ultimate humiliation; by learning to pity him. What I am trying to say is that, please, do not change. Just not yet, anyways. Goodbye, Lucan. I'm sorry for what is about to come."
Lucan was left on his knees in the reception, while the receptionist calmly sat back down at his desk, lay his head down, and fell asleep immediately. Despite his confusion on what Kirk was going on about, Lucan had a job to do and even though he had met an obstacle so overwhelmingly powerful he was stopped in his tracks, nothing could stop him now, after that obstacle allowed him to proceed. Sluggish, Lucan dragged himself through the empty corridors of the Academy, through the empty gardens that littered the middle of the complex, past each classroom with some lecturers and porcelains noticing him, until he reached the back of the Academy, a sign engraved in an opaque wooden door reading 'Class 1-A'. Lucan didn't care if he made a mess anymore, either. He was out on a hunt for blood.