The wind howled around the sacred mountain as the morning deepened. A heavy stillness gripped the training field where the students sat in silence, their souls raw from the trials. One by one, they had been pulled into the depths of their own minds, made to confront the darkest corners of their memories. Now, it was Lucien's turn.
Tsukihara's voice broke the stillness. "Lucien… step forward."
Lucien obeyed without a word, his dark eyes steady, but Kael noticed the slight tremble in his fingertips. Ren's gaze lingered on him, worried. Even the older brother's normally unreadable face bore a crease of concern.
"You will not merely confront your past," Tsukihara said. "You will relive it. And they…" he gestured to the others, "...will witness it."
Lucien stepped into the circle drawn into the stone. The moment he closed his eyes, the world around them shimmered, then shattered like glass.
They were no longer on the mountaintop.
The courtyard faded into an opulent palace bathed in false gold. Velvet curtains hung like red rivers, and marble floors gleamed with the blood of silence. The students, though mere spectators, felt the suffocating grip of this place—a kingdom built on appearances, concealing unspeakable rot underneath.
In the middle of the grand throne room stood a small boy.
Thin.
Beautiful.
Dressed in silks too fine for a child.
Lucien.
Barely seven years old.
He stood like a doll, motionless, his eyes empty. Around him, nobles laughed and drank. Men and women alike whispered dark desires behind smiling masks.
And then came the touches.
The students could not move, but they saw. Felt. Heard the things whispered into the child's ear. Kael's face turned pale, fists clenched so hard his nails drew blood. Ren's chest tightened, breath shallow. The older brother — Lucien's only surviving sibling who had refused to participate in that world — fell to his knees.
"This was me," adult Lucien's voice echoed through the scene, layered over the memory like wind over shattered glass. "They dressed me like something to be shown off. Touched me as if I wasn't real. I was… property."
The five siblings surrounded the child, their eyes devoid of empathy.
"You belong to the court now," one sister said coldly.
"Smile prettier, Lucien," another whispered, her voice like frostbite. "The Queen is watching."
He obeyed. Not because he wanted to — but because if he didn't, there would be punishment later. Not just pain. Loneliness. Starvation. Isolation. He remembered the cold floor of the cellar, the rats he named for company.
Only two people had ever shown him kindness.
His older brother…
And his mother.
The vision shifted violently — now they stood in a small candlelit room. Lucien's mother held him close, whispering lullabies through tears.
"I'm sorry, my love. I didn't know. I didn't know what they were doing to you… Forgive me."
She was gone not long after. Poisoned. Silenced by the very court she had once married into. His brother had tried to flee with him, but the gates were sealed. They caught him. Beat him nearly to death.
Back in the present, Ren screamed — a scream of rage that echoed across the mountain. Tears streamed down Kael's face. The older brother wept openly, something Lucien had never seen from him.
"I was a doll," Lucien's voice whispered again. "Until I broke."
The next memory — a turning point.
Lucien, now ten, stood before a cracked mirror. His hands trembled, one gripping a shard of glass. The silk robes were stained in blood — not his own.
"They touched me again," he said. "I smiled. I obeyed. But this time… I killed them when they slept."
He had murdered his second eldest sister. Then his uncle. He didn't remember how. Only that the red wouldn't wash off. The whispers started soon after. Voices inside him. Not madness — but power.
"I awoke something inside me," Lucien said. "Something black. It gave me strength. Not to heal… but to survive."
Back in the soul circle, his body trembled violently. His skin glowed faintly, veins darkened with energy. Tsukihara did not intervene. This was necessary.
The vision shifted again, finally to the throne room on the night Lucien fled.
The court had gathered. They knew. They branded him a demon. The nobles, once smiling, now hurled stones, words, curses. But none of them dared approach.
Because he stood there, smiling.
And behind him, five corpses lay in a row. His siblings.
His father was nowhere. He had never returned.
Lucien stood over the final body — his oldest sister, the worst of them. The one who made him kneel and beg for forgiveness when he refused to dance for the guests.
She was gone.
"I didn't cry when I killed them," Lucien said. "But I cried when I left my brother behind."
The scene faded.
Back in the present, Lucien collapsed to his knees.
Tsukihara stepped forward, eyes solemn. "This is the soul's truth," he said. "And you faced it, Lucien. You are no longer Broken."
Silence.
Then Kael moved. He knelt beside Lucien and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Kael whispered.
Ren joined him. "They'll never touch you again. Not while I breathe."
Lucien's brother approached and knelt, wrapping both arms around him. "I failed you once. Never again."
For the first time since the soul training began, the circle was not just a battlefield of the spirit.
It was a place of healing.
But deep within Lucien's gaze now burned a new fire. Not hatred… but something colder.
Purpose.
They had shattered him.
Now, he would rebuild himself — not as a doll.
But as a weapon.