Chronicles Of The Seeker

Aquarius sat on the empty altar, his body still, his mind a drift. A figure approached him—handsome, young, with lilac hair that shimmered in the dim ritual chamber.

"Katherine, Ina—Aqua is back," Mikey announced as he stepped into the ritual ground. Behind him, two beautiful female figures stood. He tilted his head at Aquarius, frowning. "Was it too much for you? You're not even moving."

Aquarius remained silent before finally muttering, "No… I just feel unwell for some odd reason."

"Don't worry, kids. We'll talk about this later," Katherine said, her voice steady. She paused, glancing at them with an unreadable expression. "For now, just know this—you've officially become Seekers."

Mikey's face lit up with excitement. "So why don't we do something else? Maybe karaoke? We can talk about our abilities, the trial… and, uh, that book."

Ina sighed, shaking her head. "You shouldn't talk about it like that… right, Aqua?" She turned to him, but something was wrong.

Aquarius looked fragile—his usual strength absent. More than that, tears were running down his cheeks.

"Aqua… you're crying? That's… tears of joy, right?" Ina's smile faltered as concern crept into her voice.

Aquarius trudged forward, his eyes vacant, his skin paler than usual. He moved like a marionette with its strings pulled taut.

"Aqua, what's wrong with you?" Mikey murmured, his tone tense.

"Stand back, you two," Katherine warned. "He might have become something else."

"Aquarius!" Ina called, but her voice felt distant to him, swallowed by the haze clouding his mind.

Without a word, Aquarius bolted, dashing out of the underground chamber and into the boutique above.

"Damn it!" Katherine cursed.

---

The boutique smelled of old parchment and warm fabric—a rare comfort in a world filled with uncertainty. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over polished wooden floors. But none of it mattered. Aquarius barely noticed as he pushed open the front door and kept running.

As he ran, he saw many people, some laughing, some crying and others going about their day.

All they were doing, 'Creating Memories', trying to leave behind something that will remain even after their death.

The early stages of madness from being a Variable took hold of him a long time ago. Madness wasn't just hallucinations or insanity. It was loss. His past—the most painful part of his existence—had been sealed away when his soul awakened to Kami.

But now, as his core stabilized post-ritual, the dam had shattered. The blockage on his memories had cracked violently, and in an instant, everything came flooding back.

Unlike a gradual recollection, it was overwhelming, unstoppable—every moment of his past crashing into him all at once. His body, mind, and heart couldn't process it.

He felt it. He understood it.

The weight that had always been in his chest. The distant ringing in his ears. The suffocating pressure in his throat.

Then, like a cruel god prying open a locked door, it hit him.

Memories.

The creaking floorboards of his childhood home. His mother's voice humming a song he had long forgotten. His father's hand ruffling his hair. His sister's warm smile. The taste of a cheap birthday cake.

And then—the night it all burned to ash.

The screams. The blood. The cold emptiness that followed.

He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to move. He desperately wanted to forget. He wanted to ignore the pain. But his legs carried him blindly through the streets—past bustling merchants, past shouting vendors, past blurred faces that meant nothing.

People turned to watch as he stumbled, falling hard onto the cobbled street. His pale skin scraped against the rough stone, but he barely felt it. Pain flared in his palms, but it was nothing compared to the agony in his chest.

He gasped for breath, his lungs burning. His muscles screamed for relief, but he didn't stop.

By the time he reached the slums, he was shaking. His knees buckled, and he collapsed before a small, weathered church.

At that moment, Aquarius didn't know what was real and what was illusion. But he knew one thing—this feeling, this ache, this agony… it couldn't be replicated.

Memories flashed through his mind faster than he could comprehend. It hurt. But he didn't care.

He looked around the empty courtyard, his gaze landing on three stone piles nestled side by side. His body trembled as he rose, walking slowly toward them. Then fell to his knees.

The graves were small. Forgotten. Overgrown with weeds.

Just like the people buried there.

His fingers shook as he reached out, brushing dirt from the gravestones. His vision swam, his breath hitched.

The names were faded, but he knew them.

Mother. Father. Baby Sis.

A broken laugh tore from his lips. At first soft—then darker. Then silence.

The gentle breeze felt like it would rip his skin off. His throat was dry. His body was covered in bruises.

And then, a sob escaped him.

He hadn't cried in years. Hadn't allowed himself to.

But now, the dam had broken completely.

The grief. The rage. The sheer unfairness of it all—it spilled out in violent, wracking sobs.

He pressed his forehead against the cold stone, his body shaking. His fingers clenched the earth, nails digging into the dirt as if he could somehow reach them—somehow pull them back.

"I didn't forget, right?" he whispered, voice raw. "I promised… I promised I'd never forget."

But he had.

The madness had stolen it.

The gods had stolen it.

Tears fell without stopping. "You guys… you promised. We promised we'd be together forever…"

At that moment, his world became as dark as a starless night.

And like the cruelest joke of all—he remembered.

His name was only Alucard, not Aquarius.

And now, he finally remembered why he had chosen to become Aquarius instead.

It wasn't because he was born with the name.

It wasn't because it had some powerful meaning.

It was because his entire life had crumbled in that month.

Because every time someone called his name, he swore he would remember.

Because he refused to let the gods take even that away from him.

And for the first time in a long time—he cursed them.

Not with words. Not with hatred.

But with his grief.

With his tears.

"Damn it… why the hell did you have to die and leave me alone?" His voice cracked as he held the sand tightly. "In this cruel and disgusting world—this world filled with violence, injustice, and betrayal? Why? Didn't we promise to build the perfect home together?"

He tried to use his sleeve to wipe his eyes, his nose, but the tears didn't stop.

This was the weight of a child who had been forced to become a man too soon.

And in that moment, as he knelt before the graves of the people who had given him life—Aquarius was no longer just a name.

It was a promise.

A vow.

A curse.

"Whoever they are… whatever this fucking system is… I'm going to break it. I'm going to shatter it all."

He forced out a trembling smile.

"And then—I'll create the perfect home we all dreamed of."

Mikey and Ina rushed into the courtyard, their eyes widening as they saw their friend—broken.

Without a word, they knelt beside him, embracing him tightly.

Deep in their eyes burned an unyielding conviction.

It was dim—but it burned bright.