Kaizen followed the sound of sobbing.
Sob. Hic.
It echoed off the cold stone walls. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
He walked past the shattered pews. He checked behind the fallen pillars. He even looked inside a cracked confession booth.
Nothing.
No ghost. No weeping spirit. Just dust and silence.
"Okay," Kaizen muttered, scratching his head. "I know I heard crying. Unless my sanity bar is dropping, someone is here."
He reached the central altar.
Standing there, bathed in a shaft of weak, grey sunlight, was a Monk.
He wore simple, tattered saffron robes. His back was turned. He was meticulously arranging dead, frozen flowers into a golden pot in front of the headless statue of the Sun God.
Kaizen paused.
'A Monk NPC? He wasn't in the cutscene? Is he a survivor?'
Kaizen approached slowly, gripping the handle of his pan.
"Excuse me."
The Monk didn't jump. He didn't turn around quickly. He simply paused his flower arranging.
"Greetings, traveler," his voice was rasping, like dry leaves scraping together. "It is rare to see the living in this ruined temple."
"Yeah, well, I took a wrong turn at the ski resort," Kaizen quipped. "Hey, did you hear someone crying? Like, really loud, heartbreaking sobbing?"
The Monk resumed his work. He picked up a frozen lily and placed it gently in the vase.
"The wind plays tricks in these ruins," the Monk said flatly. "There is no one here but us. And the silence."
Kaizen frowned.
'Liar. I definitely heard it.'
He looked around again. The temple was empty. The dungeon rank was still
[F (Variable)]
'Hidden Quest mechanics,' Kaizen analyzed. 'If the objective isn't visible, I have to trigger it through dialogue.'
He walked closer, leaning against the altar.
"So, you live here? Pretty drafty. Not much heating."
"I tend to the God. I pray for the souls that were lost."
"Lost? You mean the Paladins? The children?"
The Monk's hand froze. The flower in his grip snapped.
"Yes," he whispered. "The children."
"Must be hard," Kaizen pressed, watching the Monk's reaction closely. "Praying all day. Asking for forgiveness."
"Forgiveness?" The Monk laughed. It was a dark, humorless sound. "Who said anything about forgiveness?"
"Isn't that what monks do?" Kaizen shrugged. "You pray. You repent. You ask the Big Guy upstairs to wash away the sins. 'Forgive and forget,' right?"
The air temperature dropped.
The Monk turned around slowly.
His messy hair obscured his face, but Kaizen could feel the glare. It wasn't the glare of a peaceful holy man. It was the glare of a soldier who had seen hell.
"Some sins," the Monk hissed, "cannot be washed away. Some creatures... do not deserve forgiveness."
"Creatures? You mean the demons?"
"No," the Monk spat. "I mean the ones who failed. The ones who had the power to save, and chose to slaughter. The monsters who pretend to be saints."
He crushed the frozen lily in his hand. The petals turned to dust.
"There is no forgiveness for them. Only eternal penance."
Kaizen stared at the crushed flower.
He looked at the Monk's hands. They were scarred. Calloused. Not the hands of a scholar or a prayer-maker. They were the hands of a warrior. Hands that had held a sword for a lifetime.
Kaizen's gamer brain connected the dots.
'The Weeping Man isn't a ghost.'
'The Weeping Man isn't missing.'
He looked at the Monk.
'It's him.'
Sir Cassiel. The Guardian of the Dawn. The man who killed the children he swore to protect.
He didn't die. He didn't ascend. He stripped off his armor, put on these rags, and spent the last five thousand years punishing himself in this frozen hell. He wasn't looking for forgiveness. He was ensuring he never got it.
[System Alert: Hidden Objective Updated.]
[Target Identified: The Penitent One.]
Kaizen looked at the dungeon rank.
[Rank: F (Variable)]
It was still F. Because Cassiel hadn't drawn his sword yet. He was suppressing his own power, hiding his own boss health bar under the guise of a lowly monk.
"I see," Kaizen said softly. "So you think he—I mean, they—should suffer forever?"
"Yes," the Monk growled. "Forever is not long enough."
Kaizen gripped his Rusty Pan tighter.
'Okay. I get it. The quest isn't to kill a monster. The quest is to make this guy forgive himself.'
'Or,' Kaizen thought, a dangerous plan forming, 'I can annoy him until he snaps out of his depression.'
"That sounds exhausted," Kaizen yawned, stretching his arms. "Holding onto a grudge for five thousand years? That's kinda cringe, bro."
The Monk went rigid.
"What did you say?"
"I said it's cringe," Kaizen smirked. "Self-pity is so last era. 'Oh, look at me, I'm so sad, I'm a monster.' Boo hoo. Get over it, old man."
He was baiting the boss. He was poking the sleeping dragon with a stick.
'Trigger the event,' Kaizen thought, his heart pounding. 'Come on. Show me the Golden Knight.'
The Monk's shoulders began to shake. Not with sobbing this time.
With rage.
"You... ignorant... child..."
The air began to hum. The dust on the floor started to rise.
Kaizen braced himself.
"Here we go."