Lysander's footsteps echoed faintly on the cracked concrete of the overpass. The city sprawled below, but the usual noise—the hum of cars, chatter from the streets—had thinned. He glanced up at the sky. A blanket of low, swollen gray clouds pressed down, making the day feel heavier than it should.
The air smelled stale, like the world was holding its breath.
He wasn't the only one sensing it. The traffic slowed to a crawl, horns blaring in confusion. Dogs barked nervously at empty corners. His phone screen blinked—no signal.
Then the world shifted.
Not physically. More like the pulse of reality hiccupped.
Birds stopped their song mid-note. The wind stilled so abruptly that even the leaves hung frozen, unmoving. Pedestrians paused mid-step, their expressions caught between confusion and fear, as if invisible puppeteers had yanked the strings to freeze time.
Even the neon lights on the billboards flickered once, twice—and then died.
Lysander's heart jumped.
And then, the sound. A quiet click—not a machine, not digital. It was deeper, sharper—inside his skull.
Before his eyes, sharp and clear, a thin rectangular frame snapped into existence, hovering like a ghost window in the air.
A voice—calm, steady, and inescapably authoritative—filled his mind.
"[VEIL FRAME INTERFACE DETECTED]
Integration Protocol: Echo Phase 1
Candidate ID: 713-PRIME-0021 — Status: Valid
You have been Selected.
BEGINNING TUTORIAL TRANSFER...
Please confirm receipt of your Initial Loadout."**
Lysander's pulse raced. Around him, the frozen world seemed to shatter as people screamed and began running in panic. Sirens blared. A strange pale-blue light slammed down from the sky, striking random people—no pattern, no mercy.
The light grabbed Lysander slowly, like an unseen hand tightening. His mouth opened, but no sound came. The last thing he saw was the frightened eyes of a woman nearby before everything went white.
---
The Crucible of Ascent — Zone 1: Hollow Fields
He hit the ground hard, coughing up dirt and blood. The air was sharp, biting at his lungs. He rolled over and took in his surroundings.
Gray grass stretched endlessly in all directions, stiff as steel. Distant ruins—monoliths, broken towers—jutting up like skeletons overrun by thick vines. The sky above glowed faintly red on the horizon, casting a sickly light over the field.
Scattered around were others—men, women, young, old—some vomiting, some screaming, some just staring blankly. Disoriented.
Then the voice returned, calm and unyielding, as if the world itself was speaking.
"[WELCOME TO THE CRUCIBLE OF ASCENT]
You are no longer bound by your former world's limits.
Your First Choices Will Define You."**
A new panel appeared before Lysander—clear, sharp, impossible to ignore.
---
Personal Loadout Selection
CHOOSE ONE: PRIMARY SKILL
1. Shadow Step – Instantly reposition up to 5 meters. Cooldown refreshes faster in darkness.
2. Iron Pulse – Emit a concussive burst of force from your chest. Can be amplified with momentum.
3. Observer's Glare – unveils the lie to an extent
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CHOOSE ONE: WEAPON STARTER
1. Phase blade– Lightweight blade that phases through low-tier armor.
2. Spinebow – Bone-crafted bow with adaptive tension. Arrows grow stronger with time.
3. Breaker Gauntlets – Shock-absorbent melee gloves that store kinetic energy.
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CHOOSE ONE: BLOODLINE SHARD (Unstable Prototype)
1. Shard of the Hollow Kin – Heightened perception; unknown secondary trait.
2. Shard of the Emberborn – Affinity to fire; passive heat resistance.
3. Shard of the Forgotten Root – ??? Warning: May be incompatible with most builds.
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Lysander's fingers trembled as he stared at the options. A quiet unease gnawed at him—too polished, too clean for something so sudden and strange.
At the bottom of his Veil Frame, a red line flickered like a corrupted file trying to stay hidden. His eyes locked on it:
[ANCHOR STATUS: PENDING OVERRIDE]
ERROR: Signal interference detected.
Origin Trace: [PR1M3]
Veil Frame Integrity: 62%
Trait "Hollow Echo" — Dormant.
Observation Node Active. DO NOT ENGAGE.
The words made no sense to anyone else—he was the only one who noticed. Around him, others were already picking their skills and weapons, some cheering, some screaming, some looking desperate.
Nearby, a woman brandished a Phase Knife, lunging at a man who barely dodged her wild strike.
Lysander swallowed hard, heart pounding. The field wasn't safe—not yet.
But first, he had to make his choices.
---
Skill: Observer's Glare
Weapon: phase blade
Bloodline: Shard of the forgotten root.
He didn't know why he picked these. Maybe instinct. Maybe fate.
Something whispered inside—You need to see the lies before you can break them.
As the selections locked in, a new message flashed:
INITIALIZATION COMPLETE
Welcome, Candidate Lysander.
You are being watched.
SURVIVE. ADAPT. ASCEND.
Lysander clenched his fists. The Crucible was no game.