Lucien stepped into the dim room, his crimson eyes locking onto the trembling boy's gaze.
The heavy silence pressed down on the crumbling shack, broken only by the shallow, ragged breathing of the little girl lying weakly in Elric's arms.
Lucien's gaze drifted downward, surveying her frail figure. Fever burned across her cheeks, her skin an unhealthy shade of red. Every breath she managed was uneven, wheezing from her tiny chest as if it took every ounce of strength just to stay alive.
He observed quietly, unhurried.
Then, lifting his eyes back to Elric, Lucien spoke, his voice steady and emotionless:
"If I cure her... what will I get in return?"
The words struck like a blade.
Elric froze, the question echoing inside his mind.
He stared up at Lucien, wide-eyed, heart pounding painfully in his chest. For a heartbeat, he hesitated—trapped between fear and the burning desperation that had kept him alive this long.
But then—
Something lit within him.
A fire that even starvation, sickness, and hopelessness hadn't extinguished.
With a resolve that belied his frail, battered body, Elric shifted, carefully laying his sister back down on the mat. Then, using trembling arms, he pushed himself upright onto shaking legs.
His knees buckled slightly from weakness, but he forced himself to stand tall.
And then—without hesitation—he dropped to his knees.
His forehead pressed firmly against the cracked and splintered floorboards, ignoring the pain of rough wood biting into his skin.
"My absolute loyalty," he declared, voice hoarse but unwavering.
Every syllable dripped with raw sincerity.
"If one day you ask me to slit my own throat and offer it to you—I will not hesitate."
The room seemed to freeze.
Lucien stood there, unmoving, his crimson eyes unreadable.
He said nothing for several long moments, simply watching the boy kneeling before him—the boy who, despite having nothing left in the world, still offered up everything he had without fear.
And then, very slowly, a quiet smile curved Lucien's lips.
It wasn't mocking.
It wasn't kind.
It was something sharper—a promise, an acknowledgment of the pact being formed in the shadows.
"Take your sister," Lucien said, turning smoothly on his heel. His voice remained calm, almost casual.
"Follow me."
Elric didn't hesitate.
With great care, he lifted the little girl into his arms.
She was feather-light, but even so, his limbs trembled with the effort. Still, he clutched her close, guarding her as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.
Step by step, he followed the figure of Lucien through the doorway, out into the dying light of the evening sun.
As they stepped beyond the ruined threshold, the heat of the day was fading into the coolness of twilight. Dust kicked up around their feet, the colors of the sky bleeding into a dark, foreboding red.
Lucien cast a glance back at the boy and his sister, his lips twitching into a small, amused smirk.
Under his breath, he muttered words too soft for Elric to fully catch:
"I'll be the Batman... you'll be my butler."
Elric blinked in confusion.
The strange words meant nothing to him—alien, like the whispers of gods.
But he caught one word clearly: butler.
And somehow, instinctively, he understood.
He tightened his grip around his sister and nodded, his face solemn and determined.
—
The two figures moved through the slums, slipping through shadowed alleyways and broken streets, heading toward a place that seemed impossibly distant from the world Elric had always known.
The farther they walked, the more the scenery changed.
The houses grew less decayed.
The streets widened, paved with smoother stone.
Guard posts appeared, manned by stern-faced sentinels clad in armor marked with noble insignias.
Elric's heart pounded harder with every step.
The girl in his arms stirred faintly, a weak breath escaping her lips. He adjusted his hold on her gently, murmuring soft reassurances he wasn't sure she could hear.
And then—
They turned a corner—
And looming before them stood the estate of the Arkanveil family.
A fortress of ancient stone and gleaming banners, the great gates of House Arkanveil rose high above the earth like an immovable mountain. Sharp towers pierced the sky, and intricate symbols of magic and steel adorned the walls, shining faintly under the setting sun.
It was a place of power, of unshakable prestige.
The very air seemed heavier here—thick with authority and history.
Elric staggered to a halt, staring up at the massive estate.
His mind reeled.
This boy… this man… is Lucien Arkanveil?!
The realization hit him like a thunderclap.
Lucien Arkanveil—the scion of one of the greatest noble families, a family spoken of in legends—had chosen him.
A filthy boy from the slums.
An insect with nothing to offer but his empty hands and dying sister.
Why?
Why would someone like Lucien lower himself to speak to him, let alone offer salvation?
He turned toward Lucien, disbelief plain in his wide, fearful eyes.
Lucien met his gaze without hesitation.
There was no arrogance in his face.
No pity.
Only certainty.
A slow, mysterious smile tugged at Lucien's lips.
"Because even a shadow," he said softly, "has the power to change the world."
The words were spoken quietly, but they struck Elric's soul like a hammer to steel.
Something deep within him shuddered, awakened.
He lowered his head, holding his sister tighter, swallowing the tide of emotions rising in his chest.
Without another word, Lucien turned and walked toward the great gates.
And Elric—without a second thought—stepped forward, following him.
Together, they crossed the threshold into the world of House Arkanveil.
Into a new future born from ashes and desperation.
Into the unknown.
But Elric didn't hesitate.
Because from this moment onward, he belonged to Lucien Arkanveil.
Forever.