Lucinia squinted her eyes, rubbing her chin for a moment before sighing. "Darkwood... That doesn't ring a bell."
She stood back up and motioned for one of the drivers. The driver ran over, and Lucinia whispered, "Do a background check on that name."
Her eyes shifted back to Malphas, whose head hung low. 'Did he pass out?' she wondered. As she stepped closer and lifted his face, her eyes widened. She noticed how much more frail he had become in just a single day.
'It's either he has a fast metabolism or the first trial he went through starved him, and the effects are only surfacing now that he's escaped,' Lucinia speculated, though she couldn't be certain.
Hollow, glowing crystal rope attached from his ankle shackles to his wrists, and she picked him up by it, dragging him into the undamaged vehicle.
"Harmony!" Lucinia barked.
Harmony jumped in fear. "Y-Yes, Ma'am!"
"Hurry up. I don't have all day!"
"Yes, Ma'am!"
Lucinia sighed, tossing Malphas to the ground. She sat down, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her palm. 'I wonder,' she thought, 'how strong will you be once you learn to use resonance?'
She pondered this as she waited, contemplating whether the boy would choose to become a Fateweaver or the fate they were destined to destroy.
---
Everything was dark. His stomach ached, and his wrists were bound together. Malphas fidgeted, trying to move, but he couldn't. The surface beneath him was uncomfortable, though it at least had a backrest. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a greyish-blue room.
A tinted green table stood in front of him, with a reflective mirror facing him. The corners of the room had patches of mold, and the floor bore deep scratches. The table, though low-quality, seemed far sturdier than anything he'd seen where he came from. He looked up to see a white ceiling covered with black spots in a repeating pattern. The ceiling was divided into rectangular sections framed by shiny white metal.
A faint buzzing sound came from above and to his right. He twisted his head quickly, finding a box with a blinking red lens. His eyes widened briefly in fright before he calmed down after a minute. 'The hell is this place?' he pondered as he sat there, the seconds stretching into what felt like an eternity.
Suddenly, a 6-foot-tall rectangle formed on the wall, outlined by a blue light before shrinking into nothing. The other side was pitch black for a moment until a man walked through.
He wore a suit and clutched a clipboard tightly to his chest. His hair was slicked back, and his posture radiated authority, shoulders squared with purpose.
Malphas immediately disliked him. An unnerving irritation crawled beneath his skin, spurred by anyone who thought they had authority over him—unless it was A-1, who had been more of a mother to him.
His lip curled into a snarl as the man sat down in the plastic chair across from him. Placing the clipboard on the table, the man began.
"So, you claim that your name is 'Malphas Darkwood,' correct?"
"Claim?" Malphas sneered. "I didn't 'claim' anything. I 'said' it, therefore I am."
The man sighed, clearly unimpressed. "Right… You see, I don't believe you."
He glanced at the clipboard. "From what we've gathered, the last name 'Darkwood' has never been officially recorded, not even in the most remote regions of our world. It suggests that you're... an origin we don't want to acknowledge."
Malphas clicked his tongue. "And what if I say you're lying?"
"I have evidence that says otherwise—"
Suddenly, a loud grumble echoed through the room, cutting off the man and filling the space with awkward tension. Malphas, seemingly unbothered, sat there as the source of the noise—his stomach—demanded food.
"Are you-"
"That noise?" Malphas questioned cutting the man off. "Hell if I know. It's been like that since I got here."
'This kid is strange,' the man thought.
Twenty minutes later, a plate of food was placed in front of Malphas—cheap steak and peas in a bowl. Malphas stared at it in confusion.
"The hell is this?"
"Food."
"What is food?"
The man froze. 'This kid doesn't know what food is?!'
It took five minutes to explain what food was and how to eat it.
"So, our mouths do more than just spit insults?" Malphas mused.
The man's head thudded against the table, nose squished against the surface. "Yes," came his muffled reply.
Loud laughter echoed from the other side of the wall.
---
On the other side of the one-way glass, Lucinia stood with a couple of agents, staring at a man who laughed uncontrollably. He wore a lime-green vest, black pants, and a shirt, along with a black cap that couldn't fully hide his striking features—handsome with decently long lime hair.
One of the guards spoke up. "May I ask who you are?"
The laughing man looked up with a grin. "Oh, my bad. I just came to see the kid who was all over the news the other day."
"That still doesn't—"
Lucinia's voice cut through the room. "Quiet!" She walked over to the bodyguard. "Do you not know who that man is? He's one of the 7 Divine Ranks, and on top of that, he and father are good friends."
The bodyguard immediately backed away, bowing his head. "I-I'm very sorry, sir! Please, forgive me for my rudeness!"
"It's all good," the man waved him off. "By the way, Lucinia, your old man wants you to visit."
Lucinia crossed her arms and looked away. "I will... soon."
"I highly doubt that, but I'll relay what you said to him." The man chuckled, walking to the glass as Malphas struggled with cutting the meat. He chuckled again, watching the boy fumble with the food.
"Hey, Lucinia, school's tomorrow. You should head home."
"But I have to recruit him!"
"C'mon, give it a rest. Be a teenager—go on a date, talk to girls about boys. You know, the usual."
Lucinia blushed, embarrassed. "Wha—What?!"
She didn't argue further, though. Anyone carrying the title "Divine Rank" was among the strongest, holding the third-highest authority in Central Utopia.
She backed off and gave orders to her guards.
"Don't do anything stupid, Caelen Everhart," she warned the man before heading off.
Thirty minutes passed, with the interview yielding no results. The interviewer finally gave up, slumping onto his desk.
"I can't get anywhere with him," he groaned, his voice muffled.
"Hey, don't worry. I'll take care of it," Caelen said, patting his back.
"Thank you... but if I may be so rude to ask, what are you planning to do with him?"
"He has no known relatives with that last name, right? No blood ties?"
"Yes, that's correct."
Caelen thought for a moment.
"Then I'll just be his guardian," he said nonchalantly.
The interviewer sat up straight, eyes widening in confusion. For the first time, he took a good look at Caelen after spending most of the session with his face planted on the desk.
"Wait... Who are you?"