Dark clouds rolled above the Eastern city, heavy and slow, their edges lit by the dying sun.
A soft rain began to fall — not the fury of a storm, but a quiet weeping that kissed the stone and turned the streets to mirrors.
Thunder murmured somewhere far beyond the horizon, a fading echo that made the golden light tremble across the wet rooftops.
Janus felt the weight leave his wrists as the chains unclasped with a dull clink.
He stood still, breath catching as the rain traced cold lines down his face.
Above, the clouds broke just enough for sunlight to spill through — a few rays, pure and gold, touching his hands.
For a moment, the world looked almost gentle again, and he forgot what it meant to be bound.
Janus stood in the courtyard, the rain threading softly through his hair.
The chains were gone, but the weight remained — heavy, unseen, pressing against his ribs with every breath.
He looked toward the city below, its rooftops gleaming under the fractured sunset, and for a heartbeat, he almost believed he belonged there.
"They look at me like I'm meant to prove something," he thought, eyes tracing the glow along the wet cobblestones.
"A prisoner turned fighter. A nobody turned symbol. But what if I'm not built for this?"
The rain fell harder, catching the gold light until it looked like the sky itself was bleeding warmth.
"Gareth would've known what to say."
"Cassiel would've smiled and carried on. But me… I'm still trying to understand why they chose me at all."
He exhaled, slow and trembling, the sound almost lost to the patter of rain.
"Maybe it's not the chains they need to break," he whispered, "but the illusion that I can hold anything together."
Janus lowered his gaze, watching the rain gather in his open palms.
His fingers trembled slightly — the faint marks where the chains had bitten still raw and red.
Water pooled between them, reflecting the gold of the sunset, the glow twisting like fire caught in glass.
For a long moment, he simply stared, as if trying to see whether those hands could still build… or only break.
He let the rain slip through his fingers and took a step forward.
The city waited beyond the courtyard — a maze of bridges, stone paths, and hanging lights swaying in the dusk.
Janus walked slowly, boots echoing against wet stone, every step stirring whispers from the passing guards.
The air smelled of rain and forge-smoke, the rhythm of life around him pulsing faintly beneath the fading storm.
Janus stopped at the edge of the street, the rain thinning to a mist that shimmered in the last of the light.
Below him, the city unfolded — alive, tangled, breathing. Unknown faces moved through the narrow lanes, each carrying stories carved by sun and survival.
He watched a couple arguing by a lantern post, their voices sharp but strangely intimate, like two flames refusing to die out.
A few steps away, two children wrestled in the mud, laughing through the struggle until one fell back, grinning despite the bruise on his cheek.
Vendors shouted over the din — one sold herbs, another tools, and one, grimly proud, laid pale corpses on a cloth, haggling with buyers as if death were just another trade.
And yet, everywhere, there was laughter — small, unbroken sparks that the rain couldn't drown.
Janus felt the corners of his mouth lift.
For a moment, surrounded by strangers and ghosts of a world he didn't understand, he smiled — soft, real, and fleeting — as if this forgotten city had offered him a heartbeat of peace.
Janus turned a corner, his eyes still caught on the golden haze hanging over the rooftops.
He didn't see her until they collided — a soft thud, a startled gasp, and both stumbled back.
She was tanned, her skin sun-kissed and glistening with rain, strands of dark hair clinging to her cheeks.
A basket had spilled at her feet — small metal trinkets, glowing faintly with Veil energy, scattered across the wet stone.
Janus bent down quickly, gathering the pieces before she could.
Their hands brushed — hers warm, steady — and she smiled, not the wary kind he'd grown used to, but something genuine, easy.
"Careful, traveler," she said, voice light with amusement. "The streets bite harder than they look."
He blinked, caught between apology and awe. "I'm— sorry, I didn't see—"
She laughed softly and reached out, helping him to his feet. "No harm done."
When their eyes met, her tone softened, almost gentle. "My name's Laetia," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"It means Joyness, in the old tongue."
The word lingered in the air — strange, warm, and out of place in a city built on storms.
Laetia tilted her head, studying him with that same disarming smile.
"You've got strong hands," she said lightly, glancing at the trinkets he'd gathered. "Not the kind that belong to a drifter."
Janus said nothing — just met her gaze, unsure if she was teasing or testing him.
She took a step closer, voice dropping to something quieter, edged with playfulness.
"Tell you what," she murmured.
"Help me deliver these to the upper quarter, and after that…"
Her eyes glimmered under the dimming light.
"…I'll go wherever you want. Deal?"
Janus didn't hesitate, he then nodded once — the faintest smile breaking through the storm that lingered in his mind.
Laetia grinned, brushing past him as the rain slowed, her scent a mix of iron, rainwater, and warmth.
"Good," she said over her shoulder. "Try to keep up, strong one."
Janus felt heat rise to his cheeks as he walked beside her, unsure if it was the rain or her presence that made him flush.
Laetia glanced at him, eyes bright, and smiled — wide, radiant, as if the sun itself had chosen to linger just for him.
The warmth of it seeped into him, and for the first time since the chains fell, his worry seemed to slip away, replaced by a small, honest smile.
"So… do you live around here?" Janus asked, trying to steady his voice, his gaze darting to the scattered rooftops and busy streets.
Laetia laughed softly, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. "Yes, mostly. And I know everyone here — at least enough to get by without trouble."
Janus nodded, intrigued. "And you… seem different from everyone else. How come?"
She turned to him with that same playful sparkle. "Because," she said lightly, "I'm said to be the prettiest girl in this area — and everyone knows it."
Janus blinked, caught off guard, then chuckled, the sound spilling easily in the misty air.
Her grin widened, teasing but warm. "Don't look so shocked — it's true. Even the merchants would nod if you asked."
He felt himself smile brighter now, the tension of the morning, the storm, the chains — all of it fading as they continued walking side by side.
Janus walked slowly through the narrow streets, the golden light reflecting off wet cobblestones, and felt a warmth in his chest he hadn't known in months.
"I… I haven't felt this happy in so long," he thought, eyes tracing the bustle of the city — the children, the merchants, the faint laughter spilling from doorways.
Every step beside Laetia made his chest swell, a quiet joy spreading like sunlight through his veins.
They reached the upper quarter, and Laetia placed the last of the trinkets with a soft, satisfied smile.
When she turned back, her eyes found his, and without a word she stepped forward and hugged him tightly, rain dripping from her hair.
Janus felt a rush of warmth, his face lighting up, the corners of his mouth stretching into a smile that felt almost new.
"I… I think I'm in love," he whispered to himself, heart thudding loud enough to drown out the distant murmur of the city.
As they pulled back slightly, he reached for her hand, fingers brushing hers until she clasped it gently.
Together they walked back toward the main street, the rain now only a mist, the city alive around them, and Janus felt as if the world itself had shifted just for this moment.
A tall, tanned teen appeared from the side street, his shoulders broad, every step heavy with confidence.
He stopped in front of Janus and Laetia, eyes locking on Janus with a casual intensity that made the air tense.
"I want your girl, man," he said, voice smooth, almost like stating a fact, as if it needed no argument.
Janus blinked, startled, and laughed nervously, trying to shrug it off.
"Uh… you're joking, right?" he asked, forcing a smile that felt weak even to himself.
But the boy didn't move or smile; he simply struck, a sharp punch to Janus' jaw that knocked the breath out of him.
Pain exploded through his face, and blood trickled from his nose as he stumbled back, shocked at the sudden brutality.
Janus swung back desperately, fists flailing, landing one punch, then another, then a third, and finally a fourth — but it barely phased the tanned teen.
Blows rained down relentlessly, each hit stealing strength and hope, until Janus crumpled to the wet cobblestones, defeated, breath ragged and vision blurred.
Laetia knelt beside him, her hand brushing his cheek gently, her dark eyes sharp and unwavering.
"In this city," she said, voice calm, low, and edged with fire, "strength is spoken first, respect comes after — never forget it."
Her lips brushed his cheek in a fleeting kiss, soft but bold, before she leaned back confidently against the tanned teen, her smile unwavering.
The boy smirked down at Janus. "Name's Kaelen," he said, voice casual, and turned away, leaving Janus sprawled in the wet street.
Janus lay there, chest heaving, blood mixing with rain, staring at the sky, disbelief and shame coiling around him.
He slammed his fists into the stone, shouted until his voice cracked, but nothing changed — nothing would undo the humiliation, the hurt, the weakness he felt.
"It's not fair…" he thought, tears mixing with the rain, his mind screaming against the injustice of it all.
Every part of him ached — body, pride, heart — and as the minutes stretched, he felt something inside break.
Alone, drenched, and defeated, Janus whispered to the storm, "I'm weak. I… I'm nothing."
And for the first time, the weight of that truth pressed down so fully that he could do nothing but lie there, broken.
Janus staggered down the wet street, blood and rain dripping from his face.
"I hate this place… I hate all of this…" he thought, every step heavy with shame and sorrow.
His chest ached, tears threatening to spill, but he forced himself to keep moving, empty and hollow.
He ducked into a small street-side store, hands trembling, and bought a handful of sweet and strange foods — nothing luxurious, just enough to feel human for a moment.
Walking back into the streets, he kept his eyes down, silent, lost in his own storm, the world around him blurring.
Without noticing, he bumped shoulder-first into a tanned man walking briskly the other way.
"Ah! I'm so sorry!" Janus gasped, stumbling back, voice shaking.
"My eyes… I can't see well right now. I didn't mean to disturb you. Please forgive me."
The man didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. His hand shot out, striking Janus across the face with brutal force.
Pain exploded in his jaw, teeth clattering as blood poured into his mouth, burning with each breath.
"You weak asshole," the man spat, voice hard and unrelenting.
"The strong always prey on the weak — remember that."
Another slap hit him across the side of his head, sharp and cruel.
Then, with a grunt, the man grabbed him roughly and threw him aside, his body hitting the cobblestones with a sickening thud.
Janus felt tears streak down his cheeks, slow and unstoppable, but he tried to wipe them away — his hands shaking, useless against the flood of grief.
Every step he took afterward felt heavier than the last, his body sore, spirit crushed, as he made his way back toward the massive prison looming ahead.
The tanned guards at the gate laughed at him, jeering at his bloodied, beaten form as they yanked the gates open.
"Look at this weak little freak," one barked. "Thought he could survive outside?"
Janus didn't answer, didn't meet their eyes. He shuffled in, broken, silent, each movement a testament to pain endured.
Inside the cell, he moved to a shadowed corner, close to Cassiel and Teramon, the two friends noticing his state immediately.
He reached into his pocket and handed over the small sweets he had bought, the faintest gesture of care passing despite his despair.
"Why're you so quiet?" Cassiel asked softly, concern etched on his face.
Janus forced a small, fragile smile, too thin to mask the heartbreak underneath.
"I'm fine," he whispered, voice tight, and lay back against the stone, pretending to sleep while his body shook with quiet, unstoppable tears.
The pain of each hit, each humiliation, each relentless shove of the world pressed down on him, and even as he lay there pretending, the echo of every blow rang sharp in his mind.
He was broken, battered, and alone — yet somehow still breathing, still painfully, impossibly alive.
Cassiel reached over, brushing a hand gently over Janus' messy, blood-streaked hair.
"Thanks for fulfilling our request," he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Janus let out a small, tired chuckle, the gesture warming him more than he expected.
Teramon leaned closer, voice low but firm. "You don't have to carry this alone. We'll help you… whatever comes."
Janus met their eyes, chest still tight from pain and exhaustion, and nodded slowly.
"Thanks… but this burden is mine to bear," he said quietly, voice carrying both weight and resolve.
He exhaled, the tiniest smile forming despite everything. "Still… thanks for the encouragement."
For a long moment, the three of them just sat together, the cell quiet except for their shared breath.
Then, almost imperceptibly at first, a small laugh escaped Janus — and Cassiel followed, Teramon joining soon after.
The sound grew, shaky at first, then stronger, and soon all three were laughing — small, bright sparks of life in the midst of ruin.
Even in that broken cell, for that moment, the world felt a little less cruel.
The laughter faded into soft chuckles, and the three of them leaned back against the stone wall, exhausted but alive.
Janus wiped at the remaining tears, his fingers sticky with blood and rainwater, and shook his head slightly.
"You remember… that time we tried to climb the old bell tower?" he asked, voice low, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Cassiel chuckled, eyes distant. "Yeah… you slipped halfway up and nearly fell. I had to catch you with one hand."
Teramon grinned, shaking his head. "And you blamed me for letting go of the rope. I still hear about it every week."
Janus laughed softly, the sound mingling with theirs, lighter than it had been in days.
Outside, the rain fell gently, a thin, steady mist that tapped on the stone above, soft and rhythmic, like the world itself was listening.
They spoke quietly then, sharing small memories — childhood pranks, training missteps, whispered secrets — letting the past warm them against the cold of the present.
And as the rain whispered over the prison walls, Janus felt, for just a moment, that he could survive this — that maybe, somehow, they all could.