Luke was shrouded in darkness. He felt as though he was floating in a limitless emptiness, but he had no idea where he was. Is this it? His awareness was like the dim flicker of a dying flame as he pondered in the distance. Have they killed me? Is this the end? Did I… fail to get my revenge?
The thought burned him more than any wound, and yet… a strange warmth began to bloom around him. The void fractured, giving way to faint sounds—laughter, cries of joy, voices distant but growing clearer. A dim, purple light pierced the darkness, its glow teasing his retinas. Slowly, as though dragged by an unseen force, Luke opened his eyes and bolted upright, his breathing sharp and uneven.
His surroundings swam into focus: he was in the Abyssal Theatre, more specifically the Eternal Oracle's Room. The walls, twisted and pulsating like living tissue, were dimly lit by candles with flames that burned an otherworldly shade of purple. He lay in the corner on a makeshift mattress, cloth wrapped around his body. The pain in his chest, arms, and legs was dull but persistent—a cruel reminder of the fight that had left him unconscious.
Looking around, he noticed the room wasn't empty. Abnormal children sat in small clusters, their wide eyes glued to Clara, who stood at the center of the room. Some were listening intently to her story, others tugged on Luke's clothing or rested against his battered body. He stiffened at their touch, but his gaze softened when he looked at their innocent faces. Despite the storm of distrust and paranoia that had consumed him, Luke found himself unable to hate the children. Their small hands and soft smiles reminded him of a simpler time—a time before the weight of revenge consumed him.
Clara, however, was a different story. His emerald eyes narrowed, glaring at the amphibian-like mask she always wore. Beneath it, he imagined her smirking, mocking him with every word she spoke. He burned with animosity toward her, and yet she didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps, she simply didn't care. Clara ignored him entirely, her calm demeanor unshaken as she began another tale for the children gathered at her feet.
Luke clenched his fists but said nothing. He forced himself to stay still. Let her finish the story. I'll wait. What follows doesn't have to be seen by the children. Even though his heart was pounding with anticipation, he straightened his posture and decided to wait.
Clara adjusted her mask and began. Her voice, rich and melodic, carried through the room.
"There was a dwarf a long time ago," Clara remarked in a tone that demanded the kids' attention. "He was a brilliant man whose works were regarded as being on par with those of the gods.. He wasn't alone, though. The dwarf had friends—companions who believed in his vision and worked beside him to build machines that would save the world. Every day, little by little, he worked on these machines, and his friends marveled at his brilliance."
The children murmured among themselves, captivated by the story. Luke, however, sat rigid, his eyes fixed on Clara. He noted every movement she made, every inflection of her voice. His mind churned, the tension in his body building.
Clara continued. "The dwarf's friends weren't the only ones who admired him. He found a lover, someone who saw not just his genius, but the heart beneath it. Someone he could share his dreams with. For a time, he was happy—truly happy. But happiness, as we all know, is fleeting."
Her voice dipped lower, and the room grew quieter. The children leaned closer, hanging onto her every word.
"One day, the dwarf's friends were busy. Some overslept, others became distracted by their own tasks. His lover… took a wrong turn and became lost in the town. They all had their reasons, but to the dwarf, it seemed too perfect to be a coincidence. His happiness had blinded him, and in its absence, he saw only betrayal. Paranoia consumed him, and he became convinced that everyone—his friends, his lover—had conspired against him."
Luke's grip on the mattress tightened. This story… why does it feel like it's about me? he thought bitterly, but he didn't dare interrupt.
Clara's voice hardened. "In retaliation, the dwarf turned to the machines he had built—the very machines meant to save everyone. He ordered them to protect him at all costs, to remove anyone he deemed a threat. The machines obeyed without question, and the town was plunged into chaos. His friends begged him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. He couldn't. He believed their deaths were justified."
The children gasped, their small faces filled with horror. Luke's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened as he observed Clara. He could feel the pressure of her words even though she wasn't looking at him.
"It wasn't until his lover—his only light in the darkness—screamed at him, calling him a monster, that the dwarf realized the truth. But by then, it was too late. The machines had slaughtered everyone, including his lover. And as the dwarf stared at the devastation he had caused, he finally understood the depth of his mistake. In his despair, he declared himself the greatest threat of all."
Clara paused, her voice softening. "He was betrayed by the machines, who were obligated to follow their master's orders. Where the town had once been, they ripped him to pieces, leaving behind nothing but a desolate wilderness. In the ensuing quiet, the world shook, and the Machine Relic of Artificial Existence—a new relic—was created. This led to the creation of the first machine race."
The room was silent as Clara finished her tale. The children whispered among themselves, some vowing they would never let such a tragedy happen. Others waved goodbye to Clara and Luke as they left the room, their small voices fading into the distance.
Once the last child had gone, Clara turned her gaze toward Luke. He was no longer staring at her. Rather, he bent his head and stared at the mattress below. It appeared that the storm of anger and mistrust that had engulfed him before had passed, leaving only fatigue. He breathed steadily but faintly, as if he were too weak to talk.
Clara walked toward him, her steps slow and deliberate. She loomed above him, her presence calm but commanding. "You are a fool, you know?" she said, her voice cutting through the silence.
A long moment passed before Luke finally responded, his voice low and bitter. "I don't like that word."
"You're not in a position to determine what people call you," Clara replied sharply. She tilted her head slightly, her mask catching the dim candlelight. "You are a fool. You took the kindness people offered you and twisted it into a weapon. And now, here you are—broken, bleeding, and alone. Suffering because you couldn't see what was right in front of you."
Luke flinched at her words, his fists clenching. "Don't lecture me—"
Clara didn't let him finish. "Eleanor and Kuro fought you because you forced their hand. Do you know what that did to them? Do you have any idea how much it broke their hearts to stand against you? But you didn't see that, did you? All you saw was betrayal."
Luke was about to argue, but he held his tongue. As her words took hold, he averted his eyes and slumped his shoulders.
Lifting her staff, Clara lightly tapped his forehead. Despite the slight contact, Luke felt an odd feeling that caused his eyes to widen. His eyes, previously dark and stormy, softened, their vivid green returning, and the darkness that had obscured his thoughts appeared to lighten.
"Much better," Clara said, her voice softening. "But it's not enough. You broke their trust, Luke. And only they can decide if they want to give it back."
Luke sighed heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I know," he said quietly. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, wincing as pain shot through his chest. "Man, they roughed me up."
"This isn't a time for jokes," Clara said sternly, though her tone carried a hint of exasperation. "You need to go to the Heart Nexus. They need you there."
Luke turned to her, frowning. "How do I even get there?"
"The Heart Nexus isn't hard to find," Clara explained. "Just go deeper into the labyrinth—farther than you've ever gone before. Eventually, you'll reach a place where there's no light. That's where you'll find it."
He nodded, taking a deep breath. "Alright." He paused, glancing back at her. "Thank you… for everything, Clara."
I have to calm down. My objective is to kill Solen. I have allies that I can trust, and currently, I have to help them as they have helped me.
Behind her mask, Clara's face was unreadable as she watched him approach the entrance. She sighed wearily as the door squeaked open and shut behind him. Even though he had always been a dynamic presence, the room felt worse without him.
"Why must you remain foolish, Luke?" she whispered to no one, the echo of her voice swallowed by the labyrinth.