The Grove of Ilnar was gone.
Where once stood sacred trees and singing stones, now only ash remained—swirling gently on a windless plain, whispering tales of a battle that should never have happened.
At the center stood Graxion, chest heaving, shadows writhing around him like smoke that refused to dissipate.
Seraphen's silver breastplate lay cracked at his feet. Its radiant sigil—once a symbol of divine order—was now scorched black by the touch of the abyss.
> [System Notice: Celestial-Class Threat Neutralized]
Reward: Skill — "Void Pulse" unlocked
Host Threat Level: Updated → Class Omega
Global Entity Alert: Issued
He didn't understand the last part. But deep down, he felt it.
Something had shifted.
---
Above the sky, past the clouds and stars, beyond the physical realm, in the coldest corner of unformed space, an eye opened.
It had no pupil. No iris. Just a swirling storm of dark light and dead starlight. And it turned… toward him.
> "It has begun again," the voice said.
"The curse returns. The vessel breathes."
From the darkness emerged a figure draped in flowing robes stitched from shadow itself. It had no face—only a crown of endless horns and a staff formed of crystallized void.
The being turned to its council—six floating orbs of fractured dimension, each pulsing with ancient energy.
> "He must be tested," the entity said.
"If he is to carry the inheritance, we must know if he can endure it."
The others agreed. And with a silent pulse of power, a command echoed across the dimensions.
---
Meanwhile… on the mortal plane.
Graxion knelt beside a pond—what little water had survived the Grove's destruction. His reflection stared back: pale skin veined with black, eyes glowing like twin eclipses.
He looked… wrong. Not to others. To himself.
> "What am I becoming?"
The system offered no comfort. Only data.
> [Shadow Core: 38% Corruption]
Symptoms: Identity Displacement, Nightmares, Memory Drift
Projected Evolution: Unstable (Monitor Closely)
He touched the water. It turned black at his fingertips.
> "I didn't choose this."
The wind shifted.
> "No," a voice said behind him. "But you answered."
Graxion turned—quickly, instinctively—but no shadow moved. No heat. No sound.
A figure stood beneath a dead tree. Dressed in pitch-black robes, its face was hidden behind a jagged porcelain mask.
> "Who are you?" Graxion demanded.
> "A messenger," it replied. "The first of many."
> "Sent by who?"
The masked figure raised a hand. The world around them froze.
Leaves in mid-air. Dust stopped falling. The ripples in the pond stilled like glass.
> "They are watching now," the figure said. "The ones who bound the first shadow. The ones who sealed the void. They do not fear you yet."
> "But they will?"
The figure tilted its head.
> "That depends. Can you survive what comes next?"
And then the world resumed. The figure vanished.
Graxion was alone again… but it no longer felt like solitude.
It felt like a warning.
---
That night, he dreamed again.
But this dream was not his.
It belonged to someone else.
A boy. Standing on a rooftop. Holding a ring.
Eyes wide. Power rising. Surrounded by enemies.
> "Quinn…"
The name again.
It clawed at Graxion's mind, burned into his thoughts.
> "Who are you?" he whispered to the vision.
"Why do I see you?"
No answer. Only a glimpse of Quinn turning, raising his hand, calling forth a familiar darkness…
The same shadow.
The same power.
The same legacy.
Graxion jolted awake.
And for the first time, he understood.
> "I am not the end," he said. "I'm the beginning."
Far away, the Eye in the Void blinked once more.
And began to open wider.