Rey stood in the training field’s center, Sephyr’s question hanging between them like a blade poised to strike.

"What are you hiding?"

His mind raced through options with speed his enhanced capabilities made effortless.

He could deny everything, maintain the innocent confusion his Eru persona demanded.

He could deflect with partial truths that satisfied curiosity without revealing dangerous information.

He could—

No.

Rey’s strategic calculation crystallized around uncomfortable recognition.

’There’s no doubt about it now...’

Sephyr had been assigned to monitor him. The Angels suspected something despite detecting no abnormalities.

Continued evasion would only deepen their suspicion and trigger more invasive investigation.

But a carefully crafted confession could transform this liability into an asset.

’I’ll give her the truth she can accept,’ Rey calculated. ’Build narrative that explains capabilities without revealing Emperor, Prince, Ethereal Conception, or connection to Lucifer. Make her complicit in concealment so her interests align with maintaining my cover.’

He let his expression crack—allowing fabricated vulnerability to surface beneath the reserved exterior he’d maintained since awakening in the purification ward.

"I..." Rey started, then stopped as though struggling to find words. "You’re right. I have been hiding something."

Sephyr’s red eyes sharpened with attention, but her mystical pressure remained steady rather than spiking with alarm.

She was listening, not attacking.

Rey took a breath that appeared shaky, then continued with a voice carrying emotional weight he manufactured from memories of genuine loss.

"I don’t know where my power comes from. That’s the truth I’ve been terrified to admit because I don’t understand it myself."

He gestured toward the scorched training field around them, evidence of techniques exceeding his stated classification.

"The capabilities I demonstrated today—the Sequence #3 techniques, the tactical awareness, the combat experience—they’re real. But I don’t know how I acquired them because I lost my memories."

Sephyr’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern mixed with dawning understanding.

"When?" she asked quietly.

"Years ago," Rey replied, building the false history with details borrowed from actual experiences. "I lost my family. Everyone I knew, everyone who might have explained who I was or how I developed these capabilities. The trauma was so severe that my memories shattered."

He met her eyes with an expression mixing desperation and vulnerability that wasn’t entirely fabricated—the emotional core was real even if the specific details were fiction.

"I woke up alone, confused, possessing power I couldn’t explain. And I knew—" his voice dropped to near-whisper, "—that revealing capabilities I didn’t understand would make me suspect. Especially as Nephilim. Chaos taint in our blood makes people assume the worst about any unexplained power."

Sephyr stepped closer, her hand reaching out in a gesture suggesting comfort rather than restraint.

"So I hid," Rey continued, allowing his voice to crack with manufactured pain. "Stayed isolated. Avoided situations where I’d need to demonstrate my true capabilities. Lived alone for years because connection meant risk of exposure."

"But then the Searchers in the dungeon—" he paused, seeming to struggle with emotion, "—they were dying. Those Cursed Creatures were overwhelming them. I could save them if I revealed my power, or watch them die while preserving my secret."

Rey’s gray eyes held Sephyr’s red ones with intensity that carried the weight of genuine moral dilemma even if the specific circumstances were fictional.

"I chose to save them. Used techniques I’d been hiding for years. And they saw—they knew I was more capable than I’d claimed."

"They invited me to their Guild despite the questions," he stated, voice carrying gratitude mixed with pain. "They welcomed me even though my power made no sense. For the first time since losing my memories, I had... connections. People who treated me as a person rather than a suspicious anomaly."

Sephyr’s expression showed sympathy deepening with each revelation.

"I wanted to stay that way," Rey continued, his fabricated vulnerability reaching a crescendo. "I wanted to believe I could maintain those bonds, live a normal life among people who’d accepted me despite everything unexplained about my past."

His voice hardened with determination that was entirely genuine.

"But I knew it couldn’t last. Eventually someone would investigate too deeply. Discover capabilities that exceeded what my cover story could explain. And without institutional protection, without recognition from authorities who matter—"

"You’d be condemned as a potential corruption source," Sephyr completed, understanding crystallizing in her expression.

"A Nephilim with unexplained power operating at Paladin-tier scales would trigger immediate Church investigation."

"Exactly," Rey confirmed. "So I joined the Grand Expedition deliberately. Knew it was dangerous, but also knew it was an opportunity to gain recognition from the Holy Ancients’ servants. If Angels and Paladins witnessed my capabilities and deemed them divine blessing rather than corruption—"

"You’d have legitimacy that personal history couldn’t provide," Sephyr stated, her tactical understanding recognizing the strategic logic. "Church recognition would supersede questions about mysterious origins."

Rey nodded, then his carefully constructed composure finally shattered.

"But I’m terrified," he admitted, voice breaking with emotion that mixed fabrication with genuine uncertainty about his infiltration’s viability. "Because I still don’t know where this power comes from. I don’t understand how I can execute High Sequence techniques when my memories suggest I should only know basic applications. I don’t comprehend why tactical awareness feels instinctive rather than learned. I... I don’t know..."

He met Sephyr’s eyes with desperation that transcended performance.

"What if it is corruption? What if the reason I lost my memories is because something terrible happened that I’m better off not remembering? What if the Holy Ancients’ recognition was mistake and I’m actually—"

The words caught in his throat as manufactured breakdown achieved its intended effect.

Sephyr closed the remaining distance, her hand settling on Rey’s shoulder with touch that conveyed genuine comfort rather than professional distance.

"Stop," she stated firmly but gently. "You’re spiraling into worst-case scenarios without evidence."

Her red eyes held his gray ones with intensity that suggested absolute conviction.

"Listen to me, Eru. The fact that you can use such high Spirit Art—Sequence #3 techniques executed with precision that suggests mastery rather than corruption—that must be a blessing from Ancient Lucia herself."