The air was thick. Tense. It was hard to breathe. Tension encapsulated two boys, staring intensely at another, the invigorated feel of a battle beginning to pervade the atmosphere. The boy who had just entered the cave from a series of intervoluted paths was Lucas, a lad of 12 years old who hailed from Tazmily village. Lucas eyed the other boy, of indeterminate age, hardly visible in the void of the cave, as the young man across the way wore almost entirely black. His pants were bright orange, sure, but the only noticeable feature about him now was his electrified beam sword, which he held in front of himself. The faint glow it cast vaguely illuminated his black helmet. No one had ever seen his face under it.

Lucas was a very timid boy, he always kept to himself. Of all the children back in his tranquil home of Tazmily, he only had regular contact with his long-deceased brother, Claus. Or was he dead? Who even knew. Some three years ago he disappeared, and his body was never found. His father was droven to insanity, and his mother had died before. He was all alone in the world, at all hours of the day, feeling achingly empty.

Except for now.

Now, he was face-to-face with this masked stranger. He could see nothing else. He needed to see nothing else. His adventure with his compaions Kumatora, a strong woman and resident of Osohe castle, Duster, a tall man who was constantly hassled by his ungrateful father, and his dog, Boney, the most loyal dog a kid could ever wish for, had all been training him for this moment. He thought his friends could help, but alas, the Masked Man's lightening strikes had knocked them all out and he was alone again in the dark of the night-or was it?

Lucas took a step nearer. The boy in the mask tensed noticeably in the little illumination of the cave. Lucas took another step, his shaking hands grasping his large stick weapon. The masked boy again tensed. Lucas held his stick-wielding arm in front of him, preparing to strike.

The Masked Man struck first, knocking Lucas to the ground. His back hit the floor with an audible, sickening thud. He groaned and got up, but the Masked Man was behind him now, always a step ahead, and shoved him to the ground again. The Masked Man stood over him and pointed his lightening sword directly in his face. Lucas quickly swung his leg out, which caused the Masked Man to falter. Lucas struck the Masked Man's hand with his stick, which startled him enough to drop his weapon. Lucas kicked it off to the side and, in a bold and suicidal move, tackled the Masked Man to the ground.

The Masked Man hit the ground with stuch great force, his helmet shattered. Lucas found it easy to remove, and what he saw filled him with an emotion unlike any he had ever felt before.

The Masked Man, the very being who was an obstacle in every step of Lucas' adventure, who had tried to kill him on several occasions, was none other than his long-since-presumed-missing twin sibling, Claus.

Lucas' bottom lip quivered and Claus reached up to touch his face and pull him closer.

"Shh, Lucas. It'll be okay."

Lucas' entire body shook.

"Shh, Lucas. Shh."

"Claus...," Lucas began to sob now, feeling his brother's presence and soaking it in. It had been too long.

"Lucas, I learned something over these last three years. Something I will never forget. I want to share it with you, Lucas."

Lucas' trembling form ceased its quivering, just long enough to ask:

"Please... tell me, Claus. I want to know."

Claus coughed a hoarse and ugly cough, and pulled Lucas even closer. His voice lowered to only barely a whisper.

"Lucas..."

"What is it, Claus?" Lucas tearfully asked again.

"Being meguca is suffering."