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Chapter 9 - CHAPTER 9: HERETIC FLAME

Scene: The Dream Realm – A Throne of Smoke and Silence

The world forgave the fire…

But some still live in the smoke.

Lucen stands alone.

The obsidian beneath his feet reflects only shadow. Wind howls with voices—ancient, distant, half-remembered.

Before him, a throne looms. Forged from smoke. Wrapped in silence.

On it—Morpheus. No longer a shifting ghost.

He wears robes woven from nightfall itself. His face flickers—man, woman, child, elder. Every identity. And none.

Morpheus:

"Sit. You've earned answers."

Lucen stays standing.

Lucen:

"Say what you came to say."

Morpheus:

"You are not human. Not truly.

You were not born of Earth's womb.

You were forged of betrayal itself.

The eighth and unwanted son of the Fallen King—cast not from love, but chaos."

Lucen's fists clench.

Lucen:

"Then why was I found under snow? In a ruined temple?"

Morpheus:

"Because even Hell feared you."

Morpheus rises. His steps are soundless. The smoke parts around him.

Morpheus:

"You were not meant to exist.

But you do.

And you burn with a fire that sings both destruction and redemption.

You are the Sinless Sin.

A contradiction.

A threat."

Lucen lowers his gaze, voice low.

Lucen:

"I've killed. Burned. And still I try to save.

What am I supposed to do?"

Morpheus (coldly):

"Remember."

He touches Lucen's forehead with a single finger.

FLASHBACK: HELL – THE THRONE OF SATAN

A void of molten red.

Seven thrones of obsidian and bone. Seated on them—Lucen's brothers. Each monstrous. Regal. Otherworldly. Beasts draped in sin.

Before them… a cradle.

Made of frost and bone.

Inside it, a crying infant. Golden eyes flickering with unfamiliar warmth.

Demonic Voice (off-screen):

"He's not one of us. He brings balance… where there should be chaos."

Another:

"Kill it."

From the shadows—an answer.

Satan:

"No. Cast it out."

The cradle vanishes—thrown into storm and snow.

Scene: Dream Realm – Now

Lucen stumbles back. Breath caught in his throat.

Lucen:

"So I'm a mistake…"

Morpheus:

"No.

You are a correction.

You were never meant to follow the rules of either side.

That's why both fear you."

Lucen's breath slows.

He looks up—steady, resolute.

Lucen:

"Then I'll carve my own side.

One life at a time."

Morpheus smiles. A rare, quiet approval.

Scene: Real World – Rooftops, Midnight

Sirens slice through the air.

Lucen stands on the rooftop. Hood up. Silent.

Below—flames eat through a small building. Firemen rush. Civilians scream.

He's too late.

Footsteps behind him.

Aria.

Aria:

"You said you'd watch the west block."

Lucen:

"I did. I missed this one."

She tosses him a photo.

Aria:

"He calls himself Scarne now. Face half-burned. Used to be a student.

Lost everything… the night you lit up the sky."

Lucen's hand grips the picture.

His pulse slows.

Lucen:

"That night…"

Aria:

"Yeah.

Your night.

Now he's setting fires too.

Leaves messages in ash."

Lucen stares down at the fire. Guilt coils in his chest, sharp and cold.

Scene: Scarne's Hideout

The room is dark. Industrial.

Scarne stands shirtless, welding sparks raining around him. His back—a war map of scars. Burned flesh twisted like melted wax.

A flamethrower lies half-assembled on the table.

On a cracked wall, a TV replays footage of Lucen saving civilians.

Scarne (to himself):

"They forgave you.

You burned my family alive…

And cried on screen.

And they forgot."

He slams a photo of Lucen against the wall. Burnt edges. Angry ink.

Scarne:

"You were born in fire.

I died in it.

So I'm taking it back."

He opens a side door.

Inside—a small armory. Gas tanks. Homemade bombs. Weapons stolen from old warlords.

The air smells like rage.

Scene: Lucen's Apartment – Late Night

Lucen stands shirtless. His back faces the mirror.

Old scars remain. Not as raw. But still there.

Faint reminders of the explosion that ended a city.

Lucen (to himself):

"I made him.

Now I have to stop him."

He opens a drawer.

Inside—a mask.

Black fabric. Gold thread. A fusion of monk discipline and demonic sigils. Forged not for identity. But to protect it.

He lifts it.

Lucen (softly):

"No more dreams.

Time to face the waking flame."

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END OF CHAPTER 9

Next Chapter:-CHAPTER 10: THE BOY WHO BURNED🔥

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