The corridor leading back to the servants' quarters was silent, filled with the damp smell of earth and the suffocating scent of old grease that had seeped deeply into the walls, as if it had entered into Lucius's very skin.
Only a few weak torches flickered along the rough stone walls, their tired flames struggling to push back the thick gloom of the passages.
Lucius walked slowly through the darkness, his legs trembling with a fatigue that felt like heavy lead flowing through his veins.
Each step echoed faintly behind him, creating a lonely and hollow rhythm that reminded him just how far he had fallen from the bright world of sunlight above to here.
Upstairs in the castle, life continued as if nothing had happened.
Through the stone floors above his head, Lucius could faintly hear the distant sounds of celebrations of the new heroes.
There was music somewhere above, along with laughter and the clinking of crystal glasses as nobles toasted the arrival of their glorious new heroes.
Cheers rose occasionally through the stone as someone shouted praise for the "Saviours" who would protect the kingdom.
Down here, however, the air felt stagnant and forgotten.
Lucius eventually reached his room, although calling it a room felt generous.
It was little more than a space in the stone wall buried deep beneath the castle.
The wooden door groaned loudly on rusted hinges as he pushed it open, revealing the same bleak interior waiting for him.
A thin pile of mouldy straw sat in the corner, serving as the only thing that could be called a bed.
Lucius did not lie down immediately.
Instead, he stood silently in the centre of the dark room while his breath caught in his chest.
The events of the days as they replayed behind his eyes like a fever dream that refused to fade.
He remembered the way the King's lip had curled in disgust when the orb revealed his class.
He remembered the nobles laughing among themselves, as if his existence were nothing more than a joke that everyone else had already heard.
He remembered the way Liam had not even looked at him.
"They were right," Lucius whispered softly into the darkness.
His voice sounded fragile and cracked, barely more than a broken breath inside the empty room.
"I'm just a mistake. I was a useless back home, and I'm still useless here."
He slowly slumped against the cold stone wall and slid downward until he hit the floor.
Pulling his knees close to his chest, he buried his face in his hands.
For a moment, he was not a "Hero."
He was simply a frightened boy who wanted his mother, but she died looking for money for his treatment at the hospital, and he would never be able to forgive himself.
He wanted to go home, even if home meant returning to a sterile hospital room filled with machines and quiet nurses.
At least there, the people around him did not look at him as if he were worthless.
Lucius remained like that for a long time while the silence pressed against his ears until it began to thrum.
Then the temperature in the room suddenly dropped.
This was not the natural chill of the underground basement.
The cold that filled the room felt unnatural, sharp enough to bite deep into his bones, just like in the testing room.
Lucius shivered violently as his breath began to fog in the air, and he saw what looked like a figure.
"You noticed it," a voice whispered softly.
Lucius jumped in shock, his heart slamming violently against his ribs like a trapped bird.
He scrambled backwards, his heels digging into the dirt-covered floor as his eyes darted around the room.
"Who's there?" he demanded, his voice trembling.
The shadows in the corner of the room began to move.
They did not simply shift like ordinary darkness.
Instead, they seemed to breathe.
The darkness thickened and curled together as if it were alive, slowly forming the shape of a tall figure standing against the stone wall.
The figure looked vaguely human, yet it was darker than the absence of light itself.
"So you can see me clearly now," the voice said calmly.
It did not sound like the growl of a monster.
Instead, the voice was smooth and strangely gentle, like a doctor delivering bad news to a patient who already knew the truth.
"That means the connection between us is growing stronger. Your soul is finally beginning to catch up with your body."
Lucius stared at the figure with wide eyes.
"You… you were there," he said slowly.
"In the summoning circle."
The shadow tilted its head slightly.
"I have always been there, Lucius Carter," it replied.
"I was there when you struggled to breathe in that white hospital room. I was there when they called you a failure today. I am the only one who never turned away from you."
Lucius swallowed nervously before asking the question that burned in his mind.
"What are you?"
The shadow leaned forward slightly.
It had no face, yet Lucius felt a gaze that seemed capable of seeing every scar on his soul.
"You may call me many things," the voice answered eventually.
"Some people once called me a god, while others called me a demon."
"In truth, those titles no longer matter."
The darkness shifted slightly as the figure leaned forward.
"What matters is that you are the one who inherited my power."
Lucius frowned.
"I inherited nothing," he said quietly.
"The orb already showed everyone what I am. An F-Rank healer."
The shadow let out a low laugh that echoed strangely in the room.
"That glowing toy only measures ordinary power," the voice replied.
"The ability you possess now does not belong to this world's system."
Lucius looked down at his hands.
The memory of what had happened in the kitchen flashed through his mind again.
The blood that had crawled backwards across the floor and returned into his skin.
The wounds that had healed instantly.
"That was your doing?" Lucius asked.
"In a way," the shadow answered.
The figure slowly extended one arm, and the darkness around the room seemed to pulse in response.
"You possess the power of Reversal," the voice explained.
"A power that allows you to deny the natural flow of things."
"Injury can become healing."
"Death can become life."
"Loss can become gain."
Lucius felt his heart begin to beat faster.
"That sounds impossible," he said.
"Most people in this world would agree with you," the shadow replied.
"Which is why they will never understand what you truly are."
The shadow straightened again, its shape becoming taller and more defined.
"The kingdom believes they summoned four heroes," it continued calmly.
"But they are wrong."
The darkness around Lucius deepened.
"They summoned four heroes for the light," the voice whispered.
"And I summoned one for the darkness."
Lucius remained silent.
His eyes moved from the shadow to the heavy wooden door that trapped him inside the tiny room.
The frightened part of him still trembled.
But another part of him felt something else.
A strange hunger.
"What do I have to do?" Lucius asked quietly.
The shadow's form rippled slightly, almost like silent laughter.
"Learn to embrace the cold," it replied.
"Tomorrow the kingdom's heroes will begin their training in the sunlight."
The shadow leaned closer.
"And you, Lucius… will begin yours in the darkness."
Lucius leaned his head back against the cold stone wall.
He did not feel like a hero.
He did not feel like a god.
He simply felt like a boy who had finally stopped waiting for someone else to save him.
And somewhere in the darkness of the small room, the shadow watching him began to smile.