Several questions lingered in his mind, but the right person to ask wasn’t Xyrene—it was that voice inside him, in that vast space, suspended between those twin heavens.
Even though Cyn was physically in Xyrene’s study, he felt as if he were staring at his own reflection on that glasslike ground—at his shadow, at his form, at his vacant eyes, at his naked body, and at his scar, which continued feeding on that mass of grey fog as if it were incapable of dissipating.
He understood what Xyrene ant by her earlier words. Once that fog was completely consud, the Scar of Pride would begin devouring him next, feeding on him little by little. He knew the speed of that consumption was incomparable to anything else.
Among all scars, he could feel it—his was the hungriest, the most ravenous, the most arrogant, and the most consuming.
He had no choice but to supply it with what it needed. The diluted doses did nothing for him; he had been using them for years, and they had never succeeded in awakening his scar. That alone proved they were useless—ineffective, incapable of offering the potency required.
For all those years, his scar had been dormant and inert. Now it had awoken with a trendous hunger—a hunger that had accompanied it since ancient tis. And as its first bearer, he was the one who had to feed it.
But in return... what was there in return? What would the scar give him? He knew the answer—the pursuit to be freed from Humanity.
Cyn cleared his thoughts. These were things to worry about later. Right now, he had other problems in his hands.
Xyrene was watching him, enjoying the sight of his face slipping into deep contemplation, disconnecting from reality.
"Ahem." The soft cough brought him back. Cyn looked up and nodded.
Xyrene continued, "Like I said, obtaining doses—especially pure ones—isn’t easy. They can’t be bought with money, and they’re incredibly difficult to trade for. So people produce them through thods that cost others pain... and their lives."
"There are organizations that specialize in this. Cults, sects, groups—always in constant conflict. Once you join any of them, you’re exposed to danger forever. That’s the downside of being a scar bearer. You’ll be in perpetual conflict—not only with the Church and the Temple, but also with others of your kind, and even kingdoms, empires, or any human settlents aware of these matters. Anyone who discovers a scar on your body will report you."
Then ca the topic of scars themselves. "There are Corporeal scars that appear on your body, Innate scars hidden inside your flesh, and Soul scars that imprint themselves on your soul as an unremovable seal—the most dangerous kind of all."
"Let’s begin with corporeal scars."
"Most of these form from harsh lives—relentless torture, front-line warfare, constant risk, repeated injuries that never fully heal. When the corporeal scar manifests through ordeal, all previous wounds and marks vanish, replaced by this single scar—like the sum of all suffering condensed into one."
"These scars glow when activated. They grant imnse strength, muscular stability, endurance, defense, and even speed. A strong scar, properly fed, can do far more—especially if you unlock its various phases. But that’s a complicated subject of its own."
Cyn’s scar was external and visible on his body, but he knew it wasn’t a corporeal scar. It was alive—ancient. Sothing like that could never be classified as rely physical.
It was conscious. It could reshape its bearer as it pleased.
Xyrene continued, "Then we have Innate scars. These form within the body—on organs, beneath flesh, etched on bones, carved into arteries, even within the blood itself."
"So consider them corporeal since they still rely on the body, but what matters is what they grant."
"These scars often form from brutal illnesses, internal injuries, degeneration, inflammation, or trauma."
"They can grant resistance to poison and disease, accelerated adaptation, faster response tis—and as long as they’re physical, they may still enhance your body. In rare cases, like a scar embedded in soone’s vocal cords, their voice might beco a deadly weapon. Just an example."
Xyrene paused for a breath.
Then, with a gentle smile and calm tone, she added, "The good thing about Innate scars is that they’re harder to detect. Most scar bearers who die are those with external marks—they’re too easy to spot. Many end up living in isolation, while others try to cleanse themselves of their scars."
"All of this happens in absolute secrecy. Cleansing a scar makes you a target. Other bearers will call you a traitor."
Cyn chuckled lightly. "They’d kill you if you’re with them, kill you if you’re against them, and kill you as a normal person just to make a few doses. aning you’re a target no matter what."
"Well said," Xyrene praised.
Cyn replied coldly, "You can die in expansion wars between kingdoms. Death is everywhere—you don’t need to be a scar bearer or a servant of the Church. Add disease, famine... this kingdom itself is receiving waves of refugees fleeing war. Most ended up enslaved. The people are demanding the king close the borders and throw them out."
Xyrene smiled. "Not exactly our problem. We can refuse their entry and deny aid, but there’s pressure—even inside the kingdom—opposition groups defending the refugees. The Church claims to protect all human lives publicly. They pressure us to shelter them, but the people refuse. It has thrown the kingdom into chaos—administratively and in terms of security—especially with the rise of bandits."
Cyn seed to recall sothing, though nothing showed on his face. Outsiders entering the kingdom, war refugees seeking shelter, citizens refusing them, outside pressure, bandits...
What better ti to strike and find gold?
Everyone was exploiting these circumstances—Church, Temple, kingdom, nobles, and scar bearers alike.
This was the nature of the world. Since he arrived, Cyn admired it. A paradise for people like him—people who wanted to shed everything human.
He asked, "What about Soul scars?"
Xyrene smiled, placed a finger on the desk, picked up a sheet of paper, and tore it into tiny pieces.
"This is the soul. Shattered."
"What can break a soul? Fists? Swords? Diseases?"
"We can’t see souls. They don’t have physical structure. So people don’t even believe humans possess one."
"So what can affect sothing shapeless? Sothing immaterial? Sothing abstract?"
"Emotions. Love. Sorrow. Hatred. Lust. All sensations—even pain."
Cyn spoke a word he had encountered many tis—sothing he realized he had lived with for far too long.
The one thing that could wound the soul more than anything else.
"Death."
Death leaves the deepest wound on the soul.
Xyrene was taken aback internally. Yes, death could scar the soul—but by then, the person is dead. Useless.
She finally said, "What makes Soul scars different is the thod of cleansing. Corporeal and innate scars can be purified and Atoned for "
"But for Soul scars, the only form of absolution is death."
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