The silence after the kill was never comforting. It was a silence that throbbed, like a fresh wound that refused to clot. Arin limped through the threshold of the shattered ruin gate, dragging one foot behind the other, each step scraping against jagged stone. His thigh burned with every movement, the gash from the Bloodwolf's fang having sliced too deep.
He hissed and pressed a hand to the torn flesh, his fingers coming away slick with dark blood. Already the air smelled thicker here. Different. The musty decay of the ruins faded behind him, replaced by the scent of iron and something more primal—feral.
Then he looked up.
The second zone was a forest, but not any kind he knew. The trees were tall, blackened as though burned, with twisted limbs that clawed at the red-tinged sky. A thick crimson mist blanketed the forest floor. Every leaf dripped with a red dew that steamed when it hit the ground. The moon—bloated and blood-red—hung impossibly large overhead, pulsing.
It beat.
Arin staggered to the base of a warped tree and sank down, wincing as his back hit bark that felt like bone. With shaking hands, he tore a strip of cloth from his undershirt and bound the bleeding wound.
[STATUS: WOUNDED | BLEEDING REDUCED]
[MANA: 42/173]
[REGENERATION TEMPORARILY HALTED]
The notifications blinked, cold and clinical.
He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. Pain flared in his ribs—bruised, maybe fractured. His entire body ached. And worse than the pain was the way the air felt alive. Watching. Judging. Like the dungeon itself had breath and memory.
He leaned his head back and muttered, "How many more times do I have to die before I live again?"
The wind shifted.
And for just a moment, he heard it. A voice like breath over broken glass:
"Still pretending you're not him?"
His eyes flew open. No one. Nothing. Just trees and red mist. But his left eye throbbed—burned—and a flicker of glyphs shimmered across his vision.
He bit his tongue until he tasted blood, just to prove he was still in control. "I'm not him," he whispered. "I'm not Zarel."
The trees said nothing.
But the wind sounded like laughter.
Hours—or minutes, maybe—passed. Time distorted here. Arin moved like a ghost, deeper into the bleeding woods. The fog clung to his ankles, thickening the further he walked, until it felt like he was wading through blood.
Then, he saw it.
A clearing. And at its heart, a single, enormous tree.
It was long dead, gray and hollow, with bark cracked like old flesh. From its wounds oozed a glowing red sap, pooling in shallow divots and flowing into thin veins along its massive roots. The air hummed around it. Thick with pressure.
[UNIQUE LOCATION DISCOVERED: THE WHISPERING TREE]
[TOUCH TO RECEIVE MEMORY FRAGMENT]
He didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
The tree breathed. Its trunk expanded and contracted in slow, shallow rhythm. Arin stepped forward, as if drawn. Each step thudded in his chest.
He reached out.
His hand touched the bark.
And the world shattered.
Flashes. Screams. Fire. A battlefield split by divine light. And in the center, standing tall against seven holy warriors, was a man draped in black with a smile like ice.
Cedric.
Leader of the Seven Sins. Right hand of the Demon Lord.
But not afraid. Not begging.
Smiling.
"He'll return. Darker. Better. Stronger. The gods are fools if they think death ends legacy."
The moment before death—he welcomed it.
The vision ended.
Arin gasped, staggering back, hand smoking from contact with the tree. A red glyph pulsed on his palm, fading slowly.
His breath came fast. His heart raced.
Then, the whisper again.
Feminine. Faint.
"Like I expected... he returned."
He whirled.
Empty clearing.
He gritted his teeth and stepped away, the sap now glowing brighter behind him. His sword vibrated faintly at his hip.
He didn't look back.
A bell tolled in the distance.
[TRIAL TIMER COMPLETE]
[SECOND WAVE INITIATED]
The blood mist thickened into tendrils. Shadows rippled beneath the trees. Then—movement.
From the fog leapt five shapes. Humanoid, lithe, their bodies shadowy and indistinct. Pale white masks covered their faces. Clawed hands. Silent.
[BLOODSHADE STALKERS: LV. 20]
One vanished. Reappeared behind Arin.
Pain.
A gash across his back.
[STATUS EFFECT: BLEEDING | MOVEMENT PENALTY: 30%]
He rolled forward, blade out, barely avoiding another strike. Two more emerged from the trees, flanking him.
"Dammit..."
He sprinted toward a fallen log, flipped over it, then slid behind a thick root. Heart pounding. Blood running. The forest became a maze. He darted through shadow, forcing them into chokepoints.
One attacked—Arin parried and slammed his blade upward, carving its torso open. Black ichor hissed.
The others circled.
One raised its hand.
Suddenly, he saw his mother. Standing in the trees, eyes hollow.
"Arin... why did you let me die?"
Then Zarel.
"You think you're better than me? You are me."
Arin screamed and closed his eyes. The visions clung.
Until he opened his Demon Eye.
The illusions flickered, shattered.
He dashed forward.
"You're not real."
Three slashes.
Three dead.
The last lunged. He countered with a feint and buried his sword deep.
Breathless. Wounded.
Alive.
The forest quieted.
Arin dropped to one knee.
Then the Blood Moon pulsed. A heartbeat of power.
And he felt it. His mana... slipping.
[DUNGEON RULE: BLOOD MOON ACTIVATED]
[MANA REGENERATION DISABLED]
[DARK ENERGY AMPLIFIED]
His veins burned. A surge of corrupt mana flooded his core.
He screamed.
His left eye turned black, glyphs spinning.
He collapsed, twitching. Power clawed at his soul, ripping something loose.
[NEW TITLE: HALF-AWAKENED]
[PASSIVE UNLOCKED: DEMON AFFINITY I]
[RESISTANCE TO CORRUPTION: SLIGHT]
[MANA EFFICIENCY: INCREASED WHEN USING DARK SKILLS]
Arin gasped.
His heartbeat slowed.
And when he stood...
The world obeyed a little more.
Ahead, the forest path opened.
A stone gate. Lit by flickering red runes.
Arin limped forward.
Then—a rumble.
The ground shook.
Something massive landed in front of the gate.
Eight feet tall. Thick arms like stone. Fur matted with dried blood. One massive red eye. Horns twisted like a crown of bone. And armor of flesh and metal fused together.
It grunted.
And spoke.
"Krah...shyr. Drannn. Zarel..."
Arin's eyes widened.
[MINI-BOSS ENCOUNTERED: WRATHBORNE SAVAGER – LV. 20]
He drew his blade.
"...I'm going to die, aren't I?"
The beast roared.
And charged.
To be continued...