As evening settled over the city of Clavis, a tapestry of orange and purple stretched out over the horizon. Lucius moved amidst the maze-like streets, his form contrasting sharply with the vibrancy around him. Every hum, every whisper of the wind was but a distant echo compared to the turmoil that raged within him.
The recent events had stripped Lucius to his very core, revealing a vulnerability he had never known. A vulnerability that stemmed not from physical weakness, but from the fractures marring his once-unyielding soul. It was an existential chasm that threatened to swallow him whole. The primordial chaos that had once coursed unfettered through his veins now seemed a distant memory. This was more than just an injury; it was a cruel jest of fate.
The streets of Clavis were teeming with life, with humans bustling about in ignorant bliss, unaware of the grand cosmic dance unfolding around them. To Lucius, they were simultaneously insignificant yet crucial. Their souls, while not the ultimate solution, were essential stepping stones in his path to recovery.
The undeniable truth, however, was that the souls of these mere mortals would provide but a fleeting respite. To truly mend his fractured essence, Lucius needed the souls of his own kind—demon souls. But such a quest was fraught with danger, and stealth was of the essence.
As a former Demon God, Lucius's vast reservoir of knowledge was his most potent weapon. Even in his weakened state, his mastery over arcane magics was unparalleled. Drawing from this immense repository, he began to mold and reshape the very fabric of the souls he had consumed during his rebirth.
Delving deep into the cavernous recesses of his soul, he could sense the myriad consciousnesses he had devoured. Each one, a small beacon of light amidst the vast darkness. Lucius reached out, channeling the sparse chaos energy he still possessed, and began the meticulous process of corruption. The once pure essences of these souls twisted and writhed, gradually succumbing to the insidious touch of chaos. It was both an art and a science, a delicate balancing act that required every ounce of Lucius's concentration.
With these corrupted souls as his puppets, Lucius's plan became clear. By embedding them within the minds of the city lord and the guard commander, he would effectively puppeteer the two most influential figures in Clavis. Their positions of power would grant him uninhibited access to the very resource he sought—human souls. A silent harvest, without the need for open confrontation or drawing attention to himself.
The garrison loomed ahead, a fortress of stone and might. Its towering walls, bathed in the soft glow of torchlight, seemed almost serene. But for Lucius, it represented the first step to his recovery.
Approaching the entrance, he caught the immediate attention of the guards. Their swift shift in demeanor signaled their understanding: he was no common visitor.
"I wish to speak with the commander of the guard," Lucius stated, his voice clear and commanding.
A younger guard, attempting to maintain composure, asked, "Your name and house, my lord? And the nature of your business with the commander?"
"My name is Lucius. As for my business, that shall be discussed directly with the commander."
The guards exchanged glances, visibly unsure of how to proceed. An older guard, trying to handle the situation diplomatically, said, "We ask for patience, my lord. We cannot simply let anyone through, though by your attire, it's clear you're of distinguished stature."
A third guard, whose uniform indicated a higher rank, approached, overhearing the conversation. "What seems to be the issue here?"
"This gentleman, by the name of Lucius, wishes to confer with the commander," the older guard explained.
The higher-ranking guard looked Lucius up and down, taking note of the quality of his clothing. "We don't typically allow impromptu meetings with the commander. But given your...appearance, perhaps an exception can be made. Nonetheless, could you provide more details regarding your lineage or house?"
"My personal details are of no concern here. I've requested an audience, and I expect it to be granted."
The senior guard, sensing the escalating tension, interjected, "Considering his attire and demeanor, he might be an important envoy or noble, sir. We ought to be cautious about causing any unintentional offense."
With a resigned sigh, the officer nodded. "Fine. But if anything goes awry, it's on your heads," he warned the other guards.
Lucius was then guided through the bustling heart of the garrison. Soldiers paused their activities, stealing glances and whispering among themselves, clearly speculating about their unexpected visitor.
Soon, they reached a grand wooden door. Upon knocking, an impatient voice from inside snapped, "What now?"
"A visitor by the name of Lucius wishes to speak with you, Commander," the senior guard announced hesitantly.
There was a momentary silence before the door swung open, revealing a stern, seasoned man. "Well, come in then," he said, eyes locked onto Lucius with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.