A Debt to the Dead
The East Wing courtyard's night air cut to the bone, but Charlemagne stayed motionless.
He sat cross-legged under the old lantern tree. Its bark was rough, marked with runes no one remembered. The tree's gentle, pale light washed the courtyard in silver. Servants avoided this place after dark—too many stories. Too many shadows lingered here.
He liked that solitude, letting the loneliness wrap around him until caution and comfort fused. Being unwanted became familiar—almost safe, compared to the ache the living stirred in him.
[SIGMA: Heart rate calm. Spiritual flux, steady. Mind and emotions aligned, focused.]
He breathed in, long and even. Exhaled.
"Begin Echo Synchronization," he murmured.
[Setup proceeds. The host dantian is fractured, yet integration continues. Quantum soul anchors will hold. Drift, then, into the Echo Stream.]
During the system activation, he shut his eyes.
Neither a vision nor a dream could describe it.
Sensations formed by thoughts flowed through SIGMA's databanks. He took in the knowledge of every executive, cultivator, and strategist he had ever studied. It was like breathing. Memories transformed into power by Echo Synchronization; experience became fuel. Every transaction had to balance; there was always a cost to the benefit.
He sensed their ebb and flow within him. An anonymous soldier, in the rain, slit a despot's throat. A smiling princess, without morals, conquered an empire. Someone gave up nirvana to make enlightenment a weapon.
Echoes like falling leaves were collected by Charles as he reached across the stream. They formed patterns in his thoughts. Lessons. Approaches.
[SIGMA: Echo Integration 17%]
A wave of pain spread through his abdomen. A steady pressure tugged at his awareness. Each throb reminded him of something broken. His dantian fought against the force, refusing to heal. SIGMA tried to run recovery protocols, but the resistance was clear. It pulsed in the air around him.
"Push it through," he whispered.
[Echo Integration: 21%... 25%...]
A spiral of runes shimmered across his chest—invisible to the naked eye but branded into his soul like ancient circuitry.
Then he saw it.
A figure appeared in the stream, glowing with pale gold light. A woman he recognized.
Elena.
Not alive. Not truly. But the SIGMA stream had pulled even her data. Her face. Her final moments. Her echo.
She smiled faintly.
He couldn't speak. His throat was locked.
She stepped forward and placed her hand against his.
A warm surge ignited his chest. It wasn't data or memory. It was resolved.
He sensed a shift in his mind, as if a fog had cleared. Resolve rushed in with Elena's image. Grief transformed into focus. Steadying himself, he realized he was no longer weighed down by the past. Now, he was carried by it—her loss fueling his determination instead of draining it.
He opened his eyes.
Tears rimmed them, a heavy ache in his chest, but they did not fall. Emotion welled up, barely contained by his will.
"Thank you," he whispered.
He rose to his feet, releasing steam into the darkness.
Agony faded. Resolve eclipsed fatigue. Full healing remained distant, yet he stood taller, limbs lightened by his restored soul's anchor. The new stability was precious—a delicately won triumph.
[Echo Sync now at thirty-four percent. Adjustments flourish. The inner clock resets. Neural pathways sharpen; danger flows sharper in thought.]
He rolled his neck, bones cracking. "Feels like the first breath in a coffin."
He turned toward the manor, the runes in the tree behind him glowing faintly as if watching.
He paused. A question rose in his mind and would not leave: what did he owe to the dead who shaped his past? The thought made the moment heavier. He tried to understand his uncertain path. The wind shifted, carrying something new.
He knelt at the base of the lantern tree and brushed away leaves and moss. Underneath, a slab of stone stuck out from the ground, old and cracked, faintly marked with symbols. The Ziglar crest. Personal runes. A memorial plaque.
Evelyne Bedona Ziglar
Beloved wife. Fierce heart. Taken too soon.
In your eyes, I saw a world worth wielding a sword for.
—Alaric Ziglar
Charles stared at the inscription.
So, this was her place.
She was the woman who gave birth to Charlemagne. Her death had made the duke silent, which led to the boy's abandonment.
He ran a thumb along the edge of the stone.
[She died after giving birth to you,] SIGMA whispered, without prompt. [From complications. You were barely a year old.]
He swallowed.
"They blamed him," Charles said softly. "All their grief became his curse. Her death was the price they saw in him."
He didn't know whether that was true. But it didn't matter.
Guilt-bred monsters. And Alaric Ziglar, the White Lion of the North, had become one through grief.
Her silver hair, pale complexion, and delicate attractiveness were too much like Charlemagne's. What the duke avoided facing, he personified in him.
"I am not her specter," he whispered softly. " You should not feel ashamed of me."
Standing with his hands clasped, he walked away.
"You won't be able to ignore me when I become somebody. Something that cannot be disregarded by the entire empire."
The Chamber of Evelyne
Later that night, Charlemagne faced a sealed door in the East Wing's depths. Not even the bravest servants dared touch it. A stone arch framed the entry, bearing his mother's insignia—crescent moons and silver lilies, now fading.
As soon as he got close, SIGMA made a chime.
[Discovery: A passive array. Old, protective—fourteen winters in age, advanced in art, layered with emotion and spirit lock.]
He whispered, "Of course it is," as he ran his fingertips over the shiny metal. "My beloved mother had a dark magic and a flair for the dramatic."
[Emotional frequency maps as the unlocking begins. Decryption: soon unveiled—twelve heartbeats' passage expected.]
A low hum filled the air. Runes flickered across the door; they responded not to power, but to him. Or rather, to his bloodline and essence. SIGMA pulsed in his mind, guiding the lock like a ghostly pianist playing his heritage's music.
The door creaked.
A soft breeze slipped out—carrying lavender, aged parchment, and forgotten warmth.
He stepped inside.
And stopped.
Time had stopped, too.
Her chamber was preserved—frozen in memory. Curtains of sheer moon lace hung delicately from tall windows. Untouched by dust, they seemed to ripple with moonlight. A bed with carved ivory posts sat neatly made. On the dresser, a single comb rested, alongside perfume bottles and an old brush with silver-white strands.
A warmth spread in his chest, strange and aching.
He crossed the room to the writing desk tucked beside the window.
There, sealed within a thin aura barrier, sat a yellowed envelope and a violet-hued teardrop-shaped pendant. The envelope read, in elegant, flowing script:
To My Beloved Charles,
Should fate allow this to find you?
His breath caught.
Charles.
His throat tightened as he saw his name—his own name. Emotions tangled in a storm: relief at being recognized, pride that she remembered him, yet sorrow and uncertainty for all she never saw.
Not Charlemagne.
His fingers trembled as he broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
Dearest Charles,
If you are reading this, then the impossible has occurred.
I have long foreseen the threads of fate tangled around your soul—even as you grew within me, I knew your life would defy stars and sages alike.
If I am gone, know this: it was never your fault. You were not a curse. You were my miracle. My final gift to this world.
Your father may forget that once, he was a man who loved deeply. He may not look at you and see me in your eyes… but I know he will feel it. He will ache for it, whether he admits it or not.
This pendant holds a key—literally. With your blood, it shall open what I have hidden, preserved for you alone.
I trust you'll know what to do when the time comes.
And Charles?
Never forget—you were always meant for something greater.
With all the love my soul can carry,
—Evelyne Bedona Ziglar
Silent tears fell as he read his mother's words. He felt her deep, fierce love—left behind in magic, mystery, and fading memories.in magic, mystery, and fading memories.
He reached for the pendant.
The moment his finger touched it, it pulsed.
[Blood-bound item detected. Binding protocol active.]
He pricked his thumb and let a single drop of blood touch the crystal.
Flames of violet light curled along the pendant's surface, resembling a phoenix rising from the dead.
"Yes," he whispered.
The pendant floated toward the crest and slotted in like a key. Beyond lay a hidden study chamber, warm and well-lit. Scrolls lined the shelves. Runes were etched into the wood to preserve their contents. Books on mana theory, enchanting, battle formations, and alchemy filled the room. Enchanting. Battle formations. Alchemy.
"Mother," he murmured in awe. "You weren't just a battle mage. You were an arcane savant."
In the center of the chamber stood a pedestal. Upon it rested three sealed relics—each encased in its own barrier array.
A floating scroll hovered above them with delicate script:
These three gifts are sealed by array for my son. Each one will only open when your body, soul, and will reach a certain level.
Don't push them. Let growth show you the way.
The three things:
A crystal core pulsed with compressed mana in deep blue and gold. It was probably made from a strong beast.
A black and silver gauntlet with runes carved into the knuckles that glowed with traces of kinetic qi.
A sword. Not just any sword.
Charles moved forward, eyes wide and excited.
The blade was smooth obsidian stone with veins of red light that moved like living magma. The edge is too sharp for time to dull it. The array itself whispered its name.
The Infernal Eclipse Blade.
SIGMA even stopped talking for a while.
[Artifact Grade: High Epic level. Origin: Unknown. Compatible with soul-binding. Locked.]
Charles inhaled deeply.
This is not just a gift. This was a legacy.
And for the first time since waking up in this world, he felt something other than fury in his chest.
He felt like anything was possible.
Catalyst Core
As soon as his fingers touched the crystal, a sudden pulse of heat rushed through his veins, as if a forgotten star had come to life in his palm.
[Warning: High-tier artifact detected. The protective seal is partially active. Initiating scan.]
The array protecting the crystal flared faintly, but SIGMA responded with a shimmer of counter-runes, systematically dismantling the protective bindings like a lockpicker disarming an ancient vault. Sparks of violet and black qi twisted in the air before the containment spell dissolved.
The core floated into his hand.
It felt heavy, not because of its weight, but because of its presence. This was the kind of artifact that seemed to watch you in return.
[Analysis complete. You have unlocked the Aetheric Crystal Core of the Dual Ascendant. Item has synced with your spiritual signature.]
The crystal pulsed again. The energy got crazy and hot.
Fires of violet swirling, black shadows, lightning that crackles, and tendrils that look like dirt. It glowed with a raw power, as if it had been waiting a long time to be held again.
[Details about the artifact: Core of the Dual Ascendant Type: Rare High-Level Mana Core Level: Epic Quality Affinity Compatible: Qi and Mana Cultivation Together
Main Elements: Dark, Fire, Lightning, and Earth
Uses: Increases Qi and Mana Core Cultivation, Awakens and Amplifies Elemental Affinities, Strengthens Elemental Channeling
Soul Status: Bonding is going on right now...
There was a soft hum in the study room. The pendant around his neck lit up faintly in response.
[You now have a starting capital of 100,000 Arcana gold coins, which you got directly from the SIGMA Interdimensional Survival Vault. Your internal inventory has received the funds. Physical form available for withdrawal through the materialization protocol.]
Charles blinked. "We're talking now."
[Warning: The artifact's full power is higher than the host's current level of cultivation. Suggest that foundational stage protocols be used and integrated slowly.]
"Meaning if I plug it in right now, I go boom?"
[Or simply combust into a ball of screaming regret. Your call.]
He grinned. "We'll take it slow, then."
He sat cross-legged in front of the pedestal and let the core float just above his lap. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, moving his scattered qi and mana along SIGMA's paths.
The crystal reacted right away.
Like a heart beating in time with his.
Qi moved. Mana glimmered. His meridians throbbed, not stable but full of hope. The core began working with both energies, filling the space where his broken dantian had once been.
He could feel it—his cultivation, which had been a dying ember, was now full of potential.
[Starting the Elemental Affinity test and Dual Core Synchronization.]
The core changed colors: deep crimson for fire, obsidian shadows for dark, crackling sparks for lightning, and a grounding pulse of ochre for earth. Every swirl of elemental force made him feel good, asking for connection. Asking to wake up.
He let the energy flow around him and gently asked it to come in.
Fire came first, hot and without thought. It wrapped around his arms like the breath of a dragon. It knew pain and was okay with it.
Then lightning struck, sharp and alive, like a living blade. It pulsed with the rhythm of desire.
Earth came next—strong, patient, and determined. A quiet promise of strength.
Finally, darkness came: quiet, old, and wise. It didn't ask for permission. It was just there.
[Elemental Affinities: Resonance Detected — All Four Present. Potential for growth: Outstanding.]
He took a deep breath. "All four?"
[Core is meant to change over time. As you climb higher, more may come.
He could already feel that his arms and legs were more sensitive than usual. His broken dantian throbbed, not with pain but with hunger.
[Unlocked Projected Core Evolution Stages]
Charles let out a breath. This wasn't just an artifact. This was a godseed.
[Unique Passives Enabled: Elemental Resonance: Reflex +12%, Environmental Sensitivity +20%
— Mana-Qi Fusion: Spell Power +22%, Speed of Growth +18%
— Soul Bonding (Progressing): Elemental Sentience Awakened.]
He looked into the core's swirling depths as it slowly dimmed, now tied to him.
He whispered, "You're mine." "And I'll take you all the way to the top."
His fist closed around the crystal, and for a moment, the entire study chamber trembled. The books, the scrolls, the old tapestries on the wall—everything reacted to the surge of awakened elemental force.
It was just the beginning.
He rose, his body still trembling from the strain—but steadier than before. Stronger.
His heart burned with new fire. His fingers tingled with lightning. The shadows in the room bent slightly toward him, and the very ground felt sturdier beneath his feet.
[SIGMA Note: Congratulations. You have successfully bonded with a relic most sects would kill to possess. Reminder: Do not let anyone know about it unless you'd like to experience live dismemberment.]
He smirked.
"Duly noted."
From the broken heir of a disgraced noble house... to the bearer of the Aetheric Core of the Dual Ascendant.
The game had changed.
And Charles Ziglar had just taken his first true step into power.