Lucian POV
The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of Seraphim's breathing coming
from the guest room. He'd fallen asleep quickly—a luxury I rarely afforded myself.
The weight of his request from earlier still hung in the air, though I doubted he
had any idea what he was truly asking for.
I stood near the window, a glass of whiskey in my hand, watching the faint glow
of the city below. Caelum was alive, its heartbeat pulsing through its streets even
at this hour. But in its veins ran something far darker—a system teeming with
corruption, a game rigged for those who knew how to play it.
And I played it well.
Seraphim's question lingered in my thoughts: How far will you push me? He hadn't
spoken the words aloud, but I could see them in his eyes. The turmoil, the
uncertainty, the desperation to find meaning in the chaos of that failed raid. He
didn't yet realize that the answer was simple.
As far as I needed to.
I took a slow sip of the whiskey, the burn grounding me as I turned my attention
to the guest room door. Seraphim was... promising. His potential was raw,
unrefined, but it was there, waiting to be shaped. He'd already begun to fall into
place, whether he realized it or not.
Walking over to my desk, I pulled up the surveillance footage from the raid on my
tablet. The scene was brutal—bodies strewn across the battlefield, a testament
to the Bureau's incompetence. More than seventy percent of the team had been
wiped out, and for what? A blind assault with no foresight, no strategy.
I could see why Seraphim was questioning everything. He had every reason to.
But doubt was a dangerous thing. If left unchecked, it could lead to rebellion,
chaos. And chaos was something I couldn't allow—not yet.
I tapped the screen, zooming in on Seraphim during the raid. Even in the heat of
battle, there was something about him. The way he fought, the way he hesitated
just before delivering the final blow—it spoke volumes. He wasn't like the others.
He wasn't mindless.
No, he was someone I could use.
The corner of my mouth curled into a faint smirk as I set the tablet aside.
Seraphim didn't realize it yet, but he was already mine. His request for guidance
was just the first step.
The room felt colder as I sat back in my chair, swirling the last of the whiskey in
the glass. The pieces were falling into place, but there was still much to do.
Seraphim needed to believe that following me was his choice—that I wasn't
leading him, but walking alongside him.
It was a delicate balance. Push too hard, and he'd break. Too soft, and he'd wander
off the path. But I'd mastered this dance long ago.
The city outside continued its restless hum, oblivious to the quiet power plays
happening within these walls. Seraphim might have been sleeping soundly now, but
tomorrow, he'd wake to a new world. A world where every decision he made, every
step he took, would bring him closer to the man I needed him to be.
How far will I push him?
The thought echoed in my mind as I leaned back, closing my eyes. The answer was
simple: As far as it takes.
The faint light of dawn crept through the curtains, painting the room in muted
shades of gray. I was still seated at my desk, the untouched cup of coffee on the
table growing cold. Sleep eluded me—it often did. But Seraphim... he'd been
restless.
From where I sat, I could hear him stirring in the guest room, his muffled voice
breaking the stillness. At first, I ignored it, assuming he was merely shifting in
his sleep. But as the seconds passed, the murmurs turned to sharp, distressed
gasps.
I stood, moving toward the door.
When I opened it, I found him thrashing beneath the sheets, his face contorted
in fear. Words spilled from his lips, broken and incoherent. "No... stop... not them...
it's my fault..."
A nightmare.
"Seraphim." My voice was low but firm, cutting through the haze of his distress.
He didn't wake. His breathing quickened, his hands gripping the blanket like a
lifeline. Whatever demons haunted his dreams had a tight hold on him.
I stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Seraphim, wake up."
His eyes shot open, wild and unseeing, as if he were still trapped in the remnants
of his nightmare. For a moment, he didn't recognize me, his body tense and
defensive. But then clarity returned, and he slumped back against the pillow,
trembling.
"I—" His voice cracked, barely audible. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to—"
I held up a hand, silencing him. "No need to apologize." I pulled a chair closer to
the bed, sitting beside him. "Nightmares have a way of creeping up on us when we
least expect them."
He looked away, his gaze fixed on the wall. "It's stupid. I shouldn't be like this.
Not after everything."
"It's not stupid," I said evenly. "You've been through more than most can handle.
Doubt and fear are natural."
For a long moment, the room was silent save for the sound of his unsteady breaths.
Then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I keep seeing them... the raid,
the bodies. They trusted me, and I failed them."
I studied him carefully. His vulnerability was palpable, raw. He was unraveling, and
in this moment, he was mine to mold.
"Listen to me, Seraphim." I leaned forward, my tone soft but unyielding. "You
didn't fail them. The system did. The people above you, the ones who made the
decisions—they're the ones to blame."
He looked at me, his eyes glassy. "But I was there. I could have done something."
"And you did everything you could," I countered. "The fact that you're here,
questioning yourself, proves that you care more than they ever will. That's what
sets you apart. But you can't let guilt consume you. It's a poison, and it'll destroy
you if you let it."
He nodded slowly, though the doubt still lingered in his expression.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that was both comforting and calculated.
"You have potential, Seraphim. More than you realize. But to reach it, you need to
trust yourself—and trust me."
His gaze softened, and for the first time, there was something akin to hope in his
eyes. "I... I don't know if I can."
"You don't have to know," I said simply. "You just have to try. One step at a time.
Let me guide you, and together, we'll make sure you never feel powerless again."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
I offered a faint smile, standing. "Good. Rest now. The road ahead won't be easy,
but it'll be worth it."
As I left the room, I glanced back at him. He was already settling back into the
bed, his shoulders less tense than before.
The seeds had been planted.
The first rays of sunlight spilled into the room, casting golden streaks across the
floor. I was already up, my thoughts spinning with plans as I sat by the window,
sipping a fresh cup of coffee. The city was waking, the faint hum of traffic in the
distance a reminder that life moved on, indifferent to the turmoil within its
people.
Behind me, I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps. Seraphim emerged from the
guest room, his hair disheveled and his eyes heavy with the remnants of his
restless night. He paused in the doorway, his gaze meeting mine.
"Morning," I said, my voice calm, almost casual.
"Morning," he replied, his tone hesitant.
I gestured to the chair across from me. "Sit. We have things to discuss."
He hesitated, then made his way over, sinking into the chair. His movements were
slow, deliberate, as if the weight of the previous night still clung to him.
"You seemed... troubled last night," I said, watching him carefully.
He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
"No need to apologize," I said smoothly. "We all have our moments. But if you want
to move forward, you need to confront whatever's holding you back."
He sighed, his fingers tapping nervously against the edge of the table. "I want to
get stronger. Not just physically, but... in every way. I can't keep letting people
down. I need to be better—for them, and for myself."
I leaned back in my chair, studying him. "Strength isn't just about power or skill,
Seraphim. It's about control—over your mind, your actions, and the way you
navigate the world. And sometimes, true strength comes from understanding
when to bend, and when to break free."
He frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. "I don't know if I'm capable of that."
"You are," I said firmly. "But it requires a shift in perspective. You've spent too
much time trying to follow the rules, to fit into a system that's broken. If you
want real strength, you need to rise above it."
He looked at me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "And how do I do that?"
I allowed a small smile, the kind that suggested I held all the answers. "That's
where I come in. I can't give you strength in the traditional sense—I'm not an
awakener. But I can help you navigate the political landscape, climb higher, and
seize the power you need to ensure no one can control you again."
He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together. "What's the catch?"
"There's no catch," I said smoothly. "Just trust. Follow my guidance, and I'll take
you further than you ever thought possible. But you need to commit, fully and
without hesitation. Half-measures will only hold you back."
He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the table. Then he nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll follow
your lead."
"Good," I said, standing. "Then let's begin."
As he rose to join me, I couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. Seraphim
was stepping deeper into my world, his doubts and fears driving him straight into
my hands.
The game was unfolding perfectly.
I led Seraphim to the balcony, where the city stretched endlessly beneath us.
The sunlight glinted off the glass of towering skyscrapers, a sprawling kingdom
that most people navigated without understanding the power games that truly
controlled it.
"Look at them," I said, gesturing toward the bustling streets below. "People
rushing to their jobs, their lives dictated by rules they didn't write. They think
they have control, but they're blind to the strings pulling them."
Seraphim leaned on the railing, his gaze distant. "And you? Are you saying you're
above all that?"
I chuckled, a low, knowing sound. "I'm not saying I'm above it. I'm saying I've
learned to play the game. And if you want to survive, let alone win, you'll need to
learn, too."
He turned to face me, his expression hardening. "And what if I don't want to play
their game?"
"Then you'll lose," I said bluntly. "But you're smarter than that, Seraphim. You've
already started to see the cracks in their system. What I'm offering isn't just a
way to survive. It's a way to thrive."
He crossed his arms, his jaw tight. "I just... I don't know if I can trust myself.
After what happened during the raid... I let people die. I don't know if I can handle
more of that."
I stepped closer, my voice softening. "You doubt yourself because you think the
burden is yours alone. But it's not. That's why I'm here. To guide you. To take some
of that weight off your shoulders."
Seraphim's shoulders slumped, the tension seeping out of him. He was raw,
vulnerable, exactly where I needed him to be.
"I don't know if I deserve it," he murmured.
"Deserve has nothing to do with it," I said firmly. "What matters is what you're
willing to do. You said you want to be stronger, to stop losing people. That starts
with accepting the help that's being offered."
He nodded slowly, his gaze meeting mine. There it was—the spark of
determination I'd been waiting for.
"Alright," he said. "What's the first step?"
I allowed a small, satisfied smile. "First, we solidify your position in the Bureau.
You'll need more influence, more leverage. I'll help you get there. But remember,
Seraphim, this isn't a straight path. There will be sacrifices, and you'll have to
trust me to make the hard calls when the time comes."
"I understand," he said, his voice steady.
"Good." I turned back toward the room, gesturing for him to follow. "Then let's
start with the foundations. We'll strategize your next moves, and I'll ensure
you're equipped to rise above the rest. But for now, let's get you ready for the
day."
As he stepped back inside, I lingered on the balcony, a smirk playing on my lips.
Seraphim's resolve was growing, but so was his dependence on me. It was only a
matter of time before he stopped questioning my guidance altogether.
The city hummed beneath me, a living, breathing entity, oblivious to the strings I
was pulling. And as the game continued, I was certain of one thing: Seraphim was
becoming the perfect pawn.
I stepped inside, leaving the balcony behind. Seraphim followed, his posture
straighter, his steps firmer. The seeds of trust had been planted, and they were
already beginning to take root.
"Get ready," I said, my tone light but purposeful. "Today marks the first step
toward making sure no one can ever challenge you again."
He nodded, the determination in his eyes a silent promise. As he disappeared into
the adjoining room, I allowed myself a brief moment of satisfaction.
The game was progressing smoothly, each piece falling into place.
As the sun climbed higher, painting the city in golden hues, Seraphim and I sat
across from each other in the dining area. The breakfast spread between us was
simple—coffee, eggs, and toast.
Seraphim seemed more at ease than he had the night before, though faint
shadows still lingered beneath his eyes.
" you're awfully quiet." I remarked, sipping my coffee.
He glanced up, startled. "Just... thinking."
I set my cup down and leaned back in my chair. "About?"
"About what you said earlier," he admitted. "About playing the game. I never
thought I'd have to. I always believed strength was enough, that doing the right
thing was all that mattered."
"Strength without direction is chaos," I said evenly. "And doing the right thing?
That's a luxury the powerful decide for everyone else."
He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to his plate. "It's just hard to let go of that
ideal, you know?"
I softened my tone, a calculated move. "Ideals are fine, Seraphim, but only if you
use them wisely. They're like a compass—you follow them to find your path, not
to trap yourself in one spot."
He didn't respond immediately, but the way his shoulders relaxed told me I was
getting through.
The moment felt significant, a quiet turning point. Seraphim was beginning to see
the world as I did.
The manipulation wasn't a game—it was an art. And I was painting a masterpiece.
As the morning passed, the conversation drifted into lighter topics—small
fragments of normalcy that felt almost foreign in the midst of everything. Yet,
beneath the surface, my thoughts remained focused. Seraphim had come far, but
there was still much work to be done.
When the plates were cleared and the coffee cups emptied, I stood and motioned
for him to follow. "Come," I said. "There's something I need to show you."
Seraphim hesitated for only a moment before rising. His trust in me was growing.
Good.
The room I led him to was sparse, its walls lined with bookshelves and a single
desk in the corner. In the center stood a large interactive display—something I
had installed long ago for personal use but now served a new purpose.
Seraphim's eyes flickered with curiosity as he stepped inside. "What is this?"
"Your next lesson," I replied, activating the display with a swipe. A holographic
map of the city lit up, pulsating with data points and lines of connection. "You said
you wanted to get stronger, to make sure no one else gets hurt because of your
choices. This is how you do it."
His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his gaze scanning the glowing lines. "This...
looks like an intel network."
"It is," I confirmed. "Every politician, every bureau officer, every major player in
Caelum—tracked, analyzed, and understood. This is the real battlefield, Seraphim.
Not fists, not weapons, but control."
He looked at me, doubt flickering in his eyes. "And you want me to be a part of
this?"
"I want you to understand it," I corrected, my tone firm. "Power isn't just about
strength. It's about knowing where to apply it. You can't save people if you don't
know where the threats are coming from. You can't win if you don't know who your
enemies are."
He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this."
I stepped closer, my voice softening. "You're already doing it, Seraphim. You've
taken the first step by trusting me. Now, let me show you how far that trust can
take you."
His jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Alright. Show me."
I smiled, the expression calculated but warm. "Good. Let's begin."
I guided Seraphim through the map, highlighting key players and the roles they
served. "Look here," I said, pointing to a blinking dot representing a high-ranking
officer. "This man runs most of the tactical operations in Cylvana. But his record
shows a pattern—erratic decisions, questionable alliances. He's compromised."
Seraphim's brows knit together. "If he's such a liability, why hasn't he been
removed?"
"Because the Bureau isn't built to expose its own flaws. That's why people like us
exist," I replied, emphasizing us. "We see the cracks, and we act before they
spread. With your rank and influence growing, you'll soon be in a position to make
those calls."
He studied the map, his fingers hovering over the display. "And what about here?"
He gestured to another node, one I had deliberately planted to pique his
interest—a senator with ties to an illegal arms network.
I leaned against the desk, folding my arms. "That's a longer game. But if you keep
following my lead, you'll find yourself in a position to dismantle networks like his
entirely. No more waiting on orders from superiors. No more raids that cost lives
unnecessarily."
His eyes flickered with determination, and I knew I had him. He was starting to
see the path I had laid out as his own choice.
"Seraphim," I said, my tone soft but firm, "this isn't just about strength or
politics. It's about control—over yourself, your decisions, and the world around
you. That's how you make sure no one gets hurt again."
He nodded slowly, the weight of my words settling over him. "I see what you mean."
"Good," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Then let's make it happen."
As Seraphim left the room to process everything I had shown him, I lingered by
the display, watching the map pulse with life.
Everything was moving according to plan. Seraphim's doubts, his guilt, his desire
to grow stronger—they were all tools, and I was wielding them with precision.
For now, he believed he was working toward his own goals. But soon, he would
understand that his ambitions and mine were one and the same. The only
difference was that I had already mapped out every step of the journey.
With a faint smirk, I deactivated the display and turned toward the window. The
city stretched out before me, a labyrinth of opportunities waiting to be exploited.
Seraphim's role in all of this was far from over. In fact, it was just beginning.
The morning sun bathed Caelum in a golden hue, its light spilling through the
towering glass windows of my office. I stood there, hands clasped behind my back,
staring out at the city I had worked so meticulously to influence.
Each district, each corner, each player in this vast game—everything was falling
into place. The pieces were aligning, and soon, the board would be entirely mine
to control.
I glanced at the digital screen embedded in my desk. It displayed a dossier, a
neatly organized list of individuals: politicians, officers, awakeners. Each name
had a role, a purpose. And Seraphim... his name was now at the top.
He had potential, there was no denying that. But potential was nothing without
the right guidance. And I was that guidance.
I activated another screen, pulling up footage from the recent raid. Chaos
unfolded in high-definition—flames, screams, awakeners clashing in brutal combat.
It was a bloodbath, and most of the Bureau's team hadn't stood a chance.
But Seraphim... he had survived. He had emerged from the carnage stronger,
though burdened by guilt and doubt. Those emotions made him malleable, and I
had every intention of shaping him into exactly what I needed.
The door creaked open behind me. I turned to see Seraphim standing there, his
expression a mix of determination and unease.
"You're early," I said, motioning for him to enter.
He stepped inside, his movements hesitant. "I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about
what you said... about control."
I gave him a measured look. "And what conclusion did you come to?"
"That you're right," he admitted, his voice steady. "If I'm going to make a
difference—if I'm going to protect the people around me—I need to stop waiting
for orders and start taking control of my own path."
I smiled, though not out of kindness. This was exactly what I had been waiting
for. "Then you've taken the first step. But understand, Seraphim, control isn't
just about strength or position. It's about influence, strategy, and knowing when
to strike."
He nodded, the flicker of doubt still lingering in his eyes. That doubt would fade
in time, replaced by the unwavering loyalty I was cultivating.
"Let's get to work," I said, gesturing for him to take a seat. "We have a lot to
accomplish, and every move from here on out is critical. Are you ready?"
Seraphim met my gaze, his resolve hardening. "I'm ready."
As we began discussing the next steps, I couldn't help but marvel at how
seamlessly everything was progressing. Seraphim's transformation was well
underway, and with every passing day, he was becoming more and more entwined
in my web.
The path ahead was clear, and I had no intention of faltering. Seraphim was a tool,
a weapon I was honing to perfection. He believed he was working toward his own
goals, but in reality, every step he took brought him closer to mine.
Control wasn't just about power. It was about precision, about knowing when to
press and when to pull back. And with Seraphim under my guidance, I had no doubt
that victory was within reach.
I turned back to the window, the city stretching out before me like a chessboard.
The game was far from over, but the outcome was already decided. All that
remained was for the pieces to fall into place.