Jerome

Jarathia | City Outskirts | Near The Volcano | At The Same Time

The outskirts reek of soot and ash. Houses half-destroyed, patched up with cobblestone and planks. The ground is blackened. Families are using old patches of cloth to stitch onto clothing, their pale skin smudged with coal and ash, their eyes an unnatural red.

Tavern doors creak open, tired voices spilling out of them.

Nine walks past it all, silent, carrying a huge grey bagpack, his hands in his pockets. His cool presence draws immediate attention.

Twenty locals rush up to him—ten men, ten women. The women wear threadbare dresses, black hair tangled, red eyes faintly glowing. The men are muscular, with cropped hair and soot-covered arms. All are smiling at Nine.

One man is the first to speak. “Nine. Long time no see.”

Nine’s reply is flat. “Sure. Do me a favor.”

The group stiffens, eager. A woman bows. “Anything, Nine.”

His cobalt eyes sharpen. “Don’t give up. And today—keep everyone away from the mines.”

A ripple of shock passes through them. Murmurs rise.

The man frowns. “Nine… we can’t. The outskirts rely on that mine. If we walk away, the fire wyverns in the forest will eliminate—”

“I killed them.” His tone cuts through the man’s speech like sharp crystal. “For today, do as I said.”

He turns his gaze on the volcano and the heavy gate built into its base.

Whispers rise around him, uneasy. But they nod, one by one, backing off.

A frail, old man remains, shuffling closer, eyes blood-red. “What are you planning, Nine?”

“I don’t know.” He doesn’t blink. “But I don’t want to drag you into it.”

The old man’s lips tremble. “…Nine…”

Nine takes off the backpack, opening it to reveal a huge pile of money inside. He presses it into the old man’s hands.

“For food and medicine. It’s for everyone. Extra, for the Karathea children. And Sunthia. It should be enough for a few months. l was saving it.”

The old man grips the backpack full of coins, sorrow filling his gaze. “I know that look. Don’t do this, Nine. It’s madness. It won’t solve—”

Nine cuts him off, voice heavy. “If I let this matter slide, they’ll only get worse.” Then his words abandon him, twisting into silence.

The old man’s eyes glisten. “If only Raven was still here…”

Nine freezes. Raven. The name hangs heavy between them.

He takes a breath and heads off toward the gate. Citizens move aside, parting like water, ready to leave the outskirts due to Nine’s order.

On the threshold—thirty bandits stand guard, blades and spears in hand, smirking.

Nine’s eyes narrow. “One step forward,” he growls, voice dark, “and it’ll be your end.”

They laugh and move anyway.

Screams split the air as spikes of sharp crystals erupt from beneath, skewering their legs up to their hips. Blood runs down the crystals.

Nine walks past their painful cries, expression unchanged, entering the volcano with no more interceptions.

Jarathia | Volcano

Inside, seawater streams through channels made of stone into glowing magma, hissing and steaming as it forges rare firestones and waterstones. Blue and red crystals glitter in the smoke, bits of lightning flashing around them.

Soulless mine workers chip at the rock. Their skin is pale, veins faintly glowing red. Crutches and broken tools litter the ground.

Next to the carved stone walls, steps spiral upward to an artificial plateau. There, a mansion looms—massive, hewn from the volcano itself, its engravings catching the magma’s glow.

Alarms wail as Nine strides past bandit guards. One by one, they collapse, sudden crystal growths on their skin grounding their bodies.

He ascends, the wails fading behind him. His eyes are locked on the mansion.

A deep, female voice whispers to him from memory.

“This mansion… maybe the most prestigious in Jarathia. The council rules from here, and I—Raven—am watching over them.”

With every step, the same voice echoes more in his mind.

“Nine, if I die, protect the people. Because if you don’t, no one will. Greed will outlive all else… that’s the nature of mankind.”

Nine exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Raven…” He walks on.

At the summit, workers mine stone with blank expressions. He spares them a glance, then takes the last few steps to reach the mansion. At last, he pushes the massive door open.

Inside—silence. A cavernous hall. And only one man.

Tall, bare-chested, scars criss-crossing his whole body, even face. Tattoos cover everything the scars don’t: a crow in flight across his back, a sword with angel’s wings across his front. His gray hair is barely long enough to cover his eyes, but nothing hides the power in his stance.

He meets Nine’s cold stare without flinching.

“You’ve made quite the mess, Crystal Grave.”

The air is filled with tension.

Nine’s voice is low, trembling with rage.
“You breached the contract, Jerome.”

Jerome doesn’t flinch. His scarred chest rises slowly.
“I had to kill them. Everyone who touched Sunthia. You only crippled them, I ended it.”

Nine’s fists curl.
“Why did it happen in the first place?”

Jerome sighs, gaze shifting away.
“I gave the order—no hand shall touch her, or the children. But some… disobeyed.”

For a moment, Jerome’s expression softens with regret.
“It won’t happen another time, Nine. I swear it.”

Nine laughs, jagged and broken.
“Another time? ANOTHER TIME? So it happened more than once?” His voice cracks. “You had one job, Jerome. ONE. JOB.”

Images of Sunthia clutching her stomach slam into his mind. The ache hits him, tearing his composure apart. His body trembles.

His roar shakes the halls.
“ONE JOB! ONE CONTRACT! I KILL THE BEASTS, AND YOU—YOU AND YOU BANDITS DON’T TOUCH HER OR THE CHILDREN!”

Desperation bleeds into his fury.
“No forced labor, no torment… but still, you hurt them. Did they revolt? Did little Faisc dare to speak his mind? EVERYONE WANTS A BETTER LIFE HERE! WHAT’S SO WRONG WITH A CHILD WANTING HIS SISTER TO SMILE! No. It’s too late now. Everything-”

Jerome lifts his hand, near pleading.
“Mere misunderstandings. Nothing more. I’ll fix things, Nine—I’ll even give Sunthia a house, a proper one. And I’ll guard her myself. The children too.”

Nine forcefully shakes his head. Crystals burst from his arms, crystal blades burst through the ground, spreading like a sickness. His cobalt eyes blaze with indignation.

“Guard her? Now you suddenly think of that? She’s already broken, it happened. She’s scarred. Do you know how trauma works, Jerome? It never fades. Never!”

Jerome’s lips tremble. “I—”

Nine cuts him off with words sharper than knives.
“I endured this hellhole for ONE REASON! To protect them. And I thought… maybe if I worked for the lesser evil, it’d be okay. Maybe I could endure with less blood on my hands.”

He breathes hard, chest heaving.
“But I know. I’ve always known. You check every newcomer. You keep the truth buried deep. The cashflows, the corruption. The nobles, the merchants—they all want the cheapest stones from Jarathia. With cheap labor. Drawn from our cheap lives. And I played along like a fool.”

Jerome’s eyes close. His hands tremble.

Nine’s voice drops, hollow but sharp.
“The real peacebringer here… it wasn’t you. It was her. Raven’s strength. She was the only reason this place didn’t collapse.”

Jerome snaps back to life, voice raw.
“Raven is DEAD!”

Something inside Nine breaks. His laugh is mad.
“I know. And I FAILED HER! I failed ALL OF THEM! Everything I touch rots—trauma, death, despair. It spreads. Maybe I’m cursed.”

The crystal blades around him quake, rising higher. His aura floods the hall.

“But I’ve made a choice, Jerome. Starting with you, I’ll end every one of you parasites. The bandits, the council, the mayor—anyone who feeds on our blood. Even if I have to kill, and kill, and keep killing. I WILL NOT stop.”

Jerome meets his glare. The sorrow in his eyes turns into grim acceptance.

“…I see. Your choice is final.”

His shaky hand knocks onto his own scarred chest. His lips curl, teeth grinding.
“This time… no, ALL this time—you’ve been right. I broke the contract. And now… I’ll happily pay the price.”

Jerome takes his swords and in a slow motion, he pierces them straight through his heart.

Then he crumbles, his knees buckling, a weak smile tugging at his lips as he gazes up at Nine.

Nine blinks, still processing what’s happening as the blood drips from Jerome’s chest.
“...Jerome?”

Jerome’s voice is ragged, fading.
“You’re a good guy, Nine. Don’t… don’t become a killer. I don’t want you to cross that line.”

Nine drops to the floor and grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him.
“Why—why are you doing this? Don’t agree with me. Fight me! Give me a reason! GIVE ME A REASON TO HATE YOU!”

Jerome coughs, a thin line of blood trickling from his mouth. His trembling hand rises and cups Nine’s face, warm with a life that is slipping away.

“I see her… when I look at you. Raven. I was never a good man, Nine. But I did what I could.” His eyes glimmer with something almost peaceful. “You still have a future. You’re not hollow like the rest of us. You are—”

His hand grows weak, sliding off Nine’s cheek.
“Innocent.”

Nine’s breath catches. “Jerome—don’t. Don’t say that.”

Jerome forces out another whisper, his words breathless.
“Don’t be angry at the people here. Don’t succumb to hate. Promise me—you’ll find a future. Like Raven did. Don’t… drown in darkness.”

“STOP!” Nine’s roar booms through the empty hall. Jerome’s body has fallen limp.

And suddenly—Nine isn’t in the mansion anymore. A memory swallows him whole.

The blackened sky. Fire everywhere. He was small, just a boy. He clung to the arm of a tall woman. Her hair whipped around in the breeze, her smile burned its way into his soul. Ravens circled overhead, their caws offsetting the crackling of flames.

“Keep your heart clean.” She told him.

But now another voice bleeds in, Jerome’s this time, overlapping with hers, the same words tearing his heart apart.
“Keep your heart clean, Nine. Don’t fall into the darkness. Because—”

The memory shatters.

Nine can only stare, trembling violently. Jerome’s lifeless body rests in his arms, one final smile frozen on his lips, empty eyes locked on Nine as if entrusting him with a future he never wanted to be in charge of.

He doesn’t move. Can’t breathe. The mansion is silent, until one strangled gasp rings out.

“How…?” His voice is hollow, breaking apart at the seams. “How can I find a solution when everything… everything I touch falls apart? When it all turns to ash and blood?”

Tears sting his eyes as he clutches Jerome’s corpse tighter.
“Let me hate you. At least let me HATE YOU!” His voice breaks into silence.
“But even that… even that you’ve taken from me.”