Aaron kept walking through the steady downpour. A sea of umbrellas flowed past him, but he remained uncovered, his eyes drawn to a row of televisions flickering in a shop window display.
The news was on. He stopped to watch, his eyes widening as the headline scrolled across the screen.
"The destruction of Hero Town a few days ago remains a total mystery," the reporter announced. "Survivors report fragmented memories—a man of metal, sudden explosions, and unsettling figures lurking in the smoke."
Aaron turned away and continued down the street. I should get to work as well, he thought.
He paused at another window, this one displaying a meticulously crafted model of a modern home. He studied the clean lines and the structure. Interior design and architecture, he mused. A fresh start.
A small smile played on his lips. After ducking into a shop to buy a sturdy black umbrella, he headed to an electronics store to purchase a laptop. By the time the sun began to set, he was back in the quiet of his home.
Aaron shed his damp long coat and newsboy cap, hanging them carefully on the stand near the door, ensuring the water wouldn't drip onto the carpet. He tucked his umbrella behind the door and sat down with his new machine. He spent the next hour setting everything up, eventually creating a professional account under a simple name: Aaron.
It was a clean slate for work purposes only. He closed the laptop and leaned back into the cushions of his couch.
"So, where should I begin?" he whispered to the empty room.
The name Dr. Thomas drifted through his mind.
With a flicker of intent, Aaron teleported. The modern comfort of his living room vanished, replaced by the oppressive atmosphere of the World of Dark Souls.
He materialized before the graveyard, but he stopped short. The massive gates were locked.
Locked? Is Thomas not here? he wondered. Even if the doctor was out, the grounds were usually teeming with activity. He stepped forward and touched the cold iron of the lock, inspecting it briefly before taking to the sky. From the air, he looked down at the graveyard. It was unnervingly empty.
He descended, landing softly back in front of the gate.
"Ron," a voice called out.
Aaron turned to see Axzeroth materializing from the shadows.
"What are you doing here?" Axzeroth asked.
"I'm here to speak with Dr. Thomas," Aaron replied.
"Well, he's busy."
"Busy?" Aaron echoed, surprised.
"Yes. He is presiding over a meeting. It should be concluding shortly—you can wait here if you wish," Axzeroth said.
Aaron nodded. With that, Axzeroth vanished.
The spirit reappeared in a vast, grey void. High above the nothingness, a single block of stone floated in the air. Axzeroth closed his eyes and, in an instant, stood upon that floating island.
Thirteen chairs were arranged around a massive table. The figures seated there shifted their gazes toward Axzeroth as he approached. At the head of the table sat Wulkranoth. He wore round glasses, black gloves, and a pristine white doctor's coat that contrasted with his glowing violet eyes. Two chairs remained empty: one directly to Wulkranoth's right, and another at the far end near Axzeroth.
Wulkranoth fixed his gaze on the newcomer.
"My Liege," Axzeroth bowed. "There is something important you need to know."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
"Speak," Wulkranoth said, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Ron is here."
Wulkranoth stood abruptly. "I will return in a moment," he announced, vanishing before anyone could protest.
The moment the King was gone, the room erupted into hushed, frantic whispers.
"Who is this 'Ron'?" one voice hissed.
"The King left a meeting of the Thirteen for a single person?" another asked.
"Whoever he is, I'm sure he'll be tasty," a third remarked hungrily.
Suddenly, a man stood up, leaning on a cane. He wore a newsboy cap identical to the one Aaron had left at home. His eyes glowed a sharp, piercing blue as he looked at Axzeroth.
"Ron is back?" Azik asked.
"Azik, you know him?" someone called out.
"I have met him once," Azik replied, his voice grim. "Our King favors him greatly."
Shock rippled through the group, the buzzing of voices growing louder.
"Hey, Axzeroth," one of the members shouted. "Why isn't She here?"
"I informed her," Axzeroth replied coldly. "She didn't bother to attend."
"Regardless," another demanded, "tell us about this Ron guy."
Azik let out a dry, cynical laugh. "He is someone the King is using for his own ends. Nothing more."
"I don't think so," a new voice interrupted.
The table turned toward Skelly, who had risen from his seat.
"I believe Wulkranoth views him as a friend," Skelly said, his voice echoing. "Or perhaps... family."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Family? Who are you kidding, Skeltor?" one of the members sneered. "You know our King. He uses people until they break, then he throws them away."
"I believed that too, once," Skelly countered, glancing at Azik. "But I think our King has a soft spot for that boy. Even Azik has witnessed it."
Azik looked down, remaining silent.
"I don't know exactly what the King's plans are," Skelly continued, "but right now, that boy is the only family he has left."
Axzeroth nodded slowly. The murmurs started up again, a tide of confusion and suspicion, but Axzeroth simply stood his ground, watching the void where the King had disappeared.