Six Years Later
He walked like someone who had seen hell and survived it.
The hair was longer now—tied back. Beard dusted his sharp jaw. A tall, lean build that looked like it had been carved from stone, not sculpted in gyms.
He dressed simple: shirts, slacks, sometimes a jacket. No flash. Just presence.
People at the office called him "Mister Calm."
They didn't know he'd once burned half a city.
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The Job
Lucen worked at a civil planning firm. Entry-level. Paper-pusher. Salary just enough to survive.
> "You're too smart for this," his boss once said.
Her name was Aria Vane—sharp-eyed, smart-mouthed, and ten years older. Divorced. Brilliant. Wounded.
She saw something in Lucen. Not his strength. His silence.
> "You ever gonna flirt back, Mr. Calm?"
"I don't flirt," he said. "I behave."
She laughed. The first time Lucen smiled in months.
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The House
He bought a modest house in the quieter edge of the city—stone path, overgrown lawn, cracked mailbox. The inside was clean but empty. No TV. No mirrors. Only a shrine.
A candle burned there every night.
For Tariq.
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The Mask
When night came, Lucen opened the hidden cabinet.
Inside:
A black half-mask, forged from old temple metal and carbon.
Fingerless gloves.
A jacket with reinforced shoulder lining.
A rope-wrapped charm from Eshun: "Let darkness fear you."
When he wore the mask, his eyes looked colder.
When he moved, it was like shadow slicing wind.
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The First Villain – "VICE"
One night, while saving a runaway girl from being pulled into a trafficking ring, Lucen encountered a name whispered by addicts and dealers.
"Vice."
A street-level manipulator.
No superpowers. Just a chemical genius with a hypnotic voice, masked in a suit of mirrors that refracted his face into dozens of twisted versions.
He dealt not in drugs—but sins. Bottled lust. Greed pills. Guilt sprays. A black market of human cravings.
When Lucen tried to stop him, Vice grinned.
> "I know you, Demon Boy. I bottle men like you."
Lucen didn't respond.
But the air pulsed with heat.
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The Fight
They clashed in a crumbling nightclub. Lucen moved like wind—fluid, exact. His martial arts were a mix of monk discipline and street savagery.
Vice was slippery—used illusions, sin-chem, confusion.
At one point, Lucen inhaled a "Wrath Shot."
For a moment, the eldritch in him stirred.
But Lucen breathed through it.
> Self-control. You are not fire. You are the flame's master.
He knocked Vice unconscious and left him tied in a lotus position at a police station door.
The media called the masked man "The Whisper."
No one knew who he was.
But Aria… had a suspicion.
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Next Chapter:- CHAPTER 6: MIRRORS LIE TOO