(The period beginning after the rise of the Exo-Cult)
Cludge was born on the edge of the northern ruins, in a place once known as the "Silica Zone," now defined only by wreckage.
This was not the remains of a city; it was the rotting corpse of a civilization.
The sky was like a rusty ceiling. The sun, merely a faded stain behind the dust layer.
The wind always whispered the same thing: "Nothing remains."
But something had remained.
Cludge's mother was one of the last jewel experts of the old world: Serena Halven.
She spent the final years of her life studying precious stones and crystals.
She could recite every scientific paper written about them by heart and sought meaning in every glimmer she saw in nature.
To Serena, crystals weren't just material resources; they were letters of a living language.
And before Cludge even learned to walk, he would climb onto her desk to touch the stones.
Serena would patiently explain to him:
Serena:
"A stone is silent, but if the right person listens, it speaks volumes."
Cludge would ask with curiosity:
Cludge (as a small child):
"Mom, what is this stone telling me?"
Serena (smiling):
"Not yet... But one day, you'll speak its language."
Maybe that was why she drew the attention of the Exo-Cult.
Maybe if Serena hadn't published her final paper on crystals, Cludge wouldn't have grown up so cold and merciless.
Even if he couldn't shape crystals, Cludge learned to understand them.
But his learning was cut short.
One night, faceless figures of unknown identity silently infiltrated the town.
Serena vanished before dawn.
The Exo-Cult had taken her.
She never returned.
All Cludge had left of his family were a few belongings of the father he never knew.
This man, Deren Halven, was a mystery to everyone.
He left behind only a revolver and a rusty pocketknife with the initials "DH" carved into its hilt.
When Cludge first held that knife, he felt it was more than a weapon—it was the last fragment of his identity.
After those days, Cludge stopped speaking.
He didn't complain, didn't ask questions.
He just learned:
To survive, you don't form attachments.
Though he never fully realized the impact of what he had learned from his mother, Cludge always had an intuitive affinity for crystals.
Unlike other thieves driven by greed, he approached them with respect.
He would always listen before touching, waiting a few seconds in silence.
It was as if he could feel whether the stone would accept him.
Serena:
"If you take a stone without listening to it first, you steal its memory. And no memory is free, Cludge."
That's why, while other thieves were paralyzed, Cludge could escape.
While others lost clarity of thought, he remained sharp.
He had no pact with the crystals.
But there was a familiar silence between them.
As if they had once spoken the same language.
He found it in the depths of an abandoned subway network—
During a long-abandoned excavation no one else dared enter.
The Noxon Crystal.
It didn't shine like the others.
On the contrary, when you looked at it, it didn't emit light—it poured out nothingness.
Sometimes, it exhaled smoke tinged with violet light.
When Cludge's eyes met the crystal, he couldn't even see his own reflection.
But the thought that came instead was far more disturbing:
"You don't exist anyway. So why would you want to be seen?"
From that day on, as long as the stone was with him, Cludge gained a camouflage he could summon at will.
But it wasn't merely a physical ability.
Over time, people stopped noticing him, stopped remembering him—
Even when they forgot, they felt no absence.
Because Cludge was no longer just a thief—he had become a form of erasure.
Yet over time, no matter how long he stayed hidden, no matter how completely he was forgotten—
He would gain a loyal friend who would always feel his absence.