"Some people carry their past in their eyes. Others wear it like a second skin."
Ren had met many travelers.
She had shared fires with mercenaries, spoken with deserters, even sat across from killers who had long abandoned the weight of their sins.
But none of them looked like him.
The man sitting across from her—Rei—looked like someone who had already died once. Maybe twice.
The firelight flickered against his sharp, angular face, casting shadows beneath his eyes. Dark. Haunted. A deep crimson, barely visible in the dim light, like dried blood that never fully washed away. Eyes that had seen too much.
His hair was black, but unkempt, strands falling messily over his forehead. The ends were uneven, like they had been cut with a blade—or burned off in battle.
His clothes were a patchwork of survival. A long black coat, tattered at the edges, stained with dirt and blood. Underneath, the remnants of something more structured—leather armor, reinforced but broken in places. The fabric beneath it was torn, exposing faint glimpses of old scars, silver against his pale skin.
He carried himself like a soldier. Or something worse.
Even with no weapon in his hands, his presence felt heavy. Like a blade hidden beneath layers of exhaustion, dulled but never truly broken.
He was young—too young to look this tired.
Ren stirred the fire, watching him carefully.
She had been right. He looked like hell.
But more than that—he looked like someone who had forgotten what it meant to rest.
The silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
Rei seemed content to let the fire fill the space between words, his gaze lost somewhere in the flames.
But Ren was curious.
He carried no visible weapon. No sigil. No crest.
Yet, she had felt it.
That lingering presence, the kind only warriors carried.
"You're strong, aren't you?" she asked suddenly.
Rei exhaled, the ghost of a tired smirk pulling at his lips.
"I was."
Ren raised a brow. "Don't sound so sure."
A pause. Then—
"What's your Oath?"
The question hung in the air.
Rei's fingers twitched.
Oaths. The foundation of all power in this world.
A person's Covenant was what dictated their abilities, their limits, their path.
There were only two types:
The Divine Oath – granted by the Holy Dominion, a pact between warriors and celestial power. Exorcists swore themselves to it, wielding Seraphic Techniques, using faith as a weapon.
The Sin Covenant – born from the Abyss, a power that fed on human desire, pain, and emotions. The more a person gave in to their sins, the stronger they became—but at the risk of losing their humanity.
The war had always been between these two forces.
But Rei?
He was neither.
And that was what made him dangerous.
Rei finally spoke.
"I was an Exorcist once," he said, his voice quieter now. "Sworn to the Divine Oath."
Ren listened, unmoving.
He shifted, his hands resting over his knees. The firelight reflected off his skin, and for the first time, she saw it—the remnants of divine markings along his arms.
Faint scars where holy inscriptions had once been carved into his flesh.
But they were shattered.
Broken.
"I broke my Oath," Rei continued. "And when an Exorcist breaks their bond with the Divine..."
He lifted his hand.
Faint embers of crimson fire curled around his fingertips. Not gold. Not holy.
Something else.
"...The Abyss takes its place."
Ren's expression didn't change, but Rei could see the sharp understanding in her eyes.
"You're a Fallen," she murmured.
Rei exhaled. Nodded.
A warrior once blessed by Divinity, now corrupted by the Abyss.
A man wielding both Seraphic Techniques and Hellborne Arts—an existence that should not have been possible.
"I don't have an Oath anymore," Rei said simply. "I walk the space between."
A pause.
Then, Ren tilted her head.
"And yet, you're still alive."
Rei let out a low, breathy chuckle.
"For now."
Ren leaned back against the stone wall, watching him with a gaze that saw too much.
Rei expected the usual questions.
"How did you fall?"
"What happened to your faith?"
"What did you do?"
But Ren didn't ask any of those.
Instead—
"What does it feel like?"
Rei blinked.
Ren's eyes were unreadable, reflecting the firelight like liquid gold.
"You were once divine," she murmured. "Now you wield the Abyss. You've touched both sides of power."
A pause.
"So what does it feel like?"
Rei looked at his own hands.
At the fingertips tinged with the remnants of hellfire.
At the scars where divinity once resided.
And then, softly—
"...Heavy."
Ren hummed.
She didn't press. Didn't demand more.
Just accepted the answer.
And for some reason, that was the hardest part.
Because it had been a long time since someone had simply listened.
Rei leaned back, exhaling slowly.
The fire crackled between them, filling the spaces between words.
And for the first time in a long time—
He didn't feel like he was running.