The descent was a slow crawl into a world that was never meant for the living.
Inside the experimental diving bell, the air was thick and tasted of cold iron. Kael sat on a narrow bench, his knees almost touching Sam's. The only light came from a single mana-lantern hooked to the ceiling, its steady blue glow casting long, rhythmic shadows as the bell swayed on its thick iron cables. Outside the reinforced glass portholes, the ocean had long since transitioned from a dark sapphire to an absolute, crushing void.
Kael could feel the pressure. It wasn't just the weight of miles of seawater pressing against the hull; it was the weight of the Stasis Ring. As they descended deeper, the ambient mana of the world became distorted and heavy, bloated by the presence of the entity below. His internal core thrummed in a defensive rhythm, a sun trying to keep its fire from being extinguished by an infinite tide.
"You're breathing too fast, Kael," Sam said. His voice was hollow, echoing strangely within the metallic confines of the bell.
Kael looked at his friend. Sam was checking the seals on his own diving suit, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His eyes were wide, reflecting the blue lantern light with a glassy intensity. His hand remained buried in his pocket, clutching the obsidian shard so tightly that his knuckles looked like white stones beneath his skin.
"The pressure... it's different here, Sam," Kael replied, trying to steady his heart. "It feels like the water is alive. Like it's trying to get inside my head."
Sam let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "That's just the Aethelgard hum. The sailors call it the 'Call of the Deep.' It's nothing. Just gold and stone waiting for us."
Kael wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that the tremor in Sam's voice was just excitement, not the fraying of a man's soul. But the Stasis Ring was vibrating against his finger, a warning he couldn't ignore. The "Ancient Art" was screaming, recognizing the dark geometry of the ruins that were finally coming into view.
A sudden jolt rocked the bell. The cables went slack.
"We've hit the bottom," Sam whispered.
They switched on the external floodlights. The beams cut through the silt, revealing a nightmare of architecture. Aethelgard was not built of marble or brick; it was constructed from obsidian that had been twisted and fused into shapes that defied human logic. Towers spiraled like the horns of a demon, and arches leaned at angles that should have collapsed under the weight of the sea. There were no statues of heroes or gods here, only inscriptions in a language that seemed to squirm when Kael tried to read it.
They stepped out of the bell, their boots sinking into a carpet of black sand and bone-white coral. The silence was absolute, save for the hiss of their breathing apparatus and the thumping of Kael's own blood in his ears.
"The Forbidden Chamber," Sam pointed with a trembling finger toward a massive, windowless structure at the center of the ruins. "The map says it's there. The heart of the hoard."
As they walked, Kael felt the "Heartbeat" he had sensed from the pier. It was deafening now—a low-frequency thrum that vibrated through the soles of his boots and up into his teeth. With every step toward the chamber, the Stasis Ring grew hotter.
"Sam, wait," Kael stopped, his hand going to the hilt of the small dagger he carried for harvesting herbs. "We shouldn't go in there. This isn't wealth. This is a prison. I can feel the mana... it's rotting. We need to go back."
Sam turned, and for a moment, the blue light of his helmet revealed a face Kael didn't recognize. Sam's skin was sallow, his lips pulled back in a snarl. "Back? You want to go back now? After three months of mud and blood? After I spent every copper we had on this ship? No. We are going in, Kael. For the Willer Guild. For us."
He will leave you in the dirt, the voice in Sam's head hissed, louder than the ocean. He is the heir. He will claim the God's power and leave you to be a peddler again. Strike first, Merchant. Secure the crown.
Sam's hand tightened around the shard in his pocket. "Think of the people you can heal, Kael. With the resources in that chamber, you could build hospitals across the entire kingdom. You wouldn't have to be a 'Sage of the Mist' anymore. You could be a saint."
That was the hook. Sam knew Kael's heart. He knew that Kael's guilt over charging the poor was his greatest weakness.
Kael hesitated, his resolve softening. "Hospitals... for everyone?"
"Everyone," Sam promised, his voice dripping with a false, desperate warmth. "Just one last door, brother."
They reached the entrance to the Forbidden Chamber. The doors were twenty feet high, made of a material that looked like frozen smoke. There were no handles, no keyholes. Only a central indentation in the shape of a human palm.
"It requires a key of mana," Sam said, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. "The map said only a 'Son of the Sun' can open the final seal. It has to be you, Kael."
Kael stepped forward. He felt the darkness behind the door pressing against the stone, a pressurized entity of ancient malice. He looked at the Stasis Ring. To open this, he would have to unleash a significant portion of his core. The risk of being detected by the Academy was high, but the risk of disappointing Sam felt higher.
Kael placed his palm against the smoking stone.
"Primordial Art: Unlocking the First Gate," he whispered.
He didn't just push mana; he offered it. The Stasis Ring flared with a brilliant, blinding white light. The runes on the door began to glow, turning from a dull grey to a searing violet. The mechanism groaned—a sound like tectonic plates grinding together—and the massive slabs began to slide open.
The air that rushed out from the chamber was freezing, carrying the scent of a thousand years of stagnant shadow.
Inside, there was no gold. No jewels. No piles of ancient coins.
The chamber was a vast, circular void. In the center, suspended by chains of pulsing purple energy, was a sarcophagus made of jagged obsidian. Below it, a shallow pool of black liquid mirrored the ceiling, creating the illusion of an infinite pit.
"Where is the wealth?" Kael asked, his voice trembling. He stepped onto the narrow stone walkway leading to the center. "Sam, there's nothing here but... this."
Sam followed him, but he stayed several paces back. His hand finally emerged from his pocket, holding the obsidian shard. It was no longer a fragment; it was glowing with a light that matched the chains holding the sarcophagus.
"The wealth isn't in the gold, Kael," Sam said. His voice was different now. The stuttering fear was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. "The wealth is in the exchange."
Kael turned around, a sense of dread flooding his veins. "What are you talking about?"
"The Dark God... he was locked away because he was too hungry," Sam said, walking slowly in a circle around Kael. "The seal needs a constant supply of mana to stay closed. But the seal is old. It's leaking. It needs a new battery. A White Sun to feed the Dark Moon."
Kael's eyes widened. "Sam... no."
"The shard told me everything," Sam continued, his eyes fixed on the sarcophagus. "If I provide a substitute—someone with an infinite well of ancient mana—the God will grant me the world. I won't just be a merchant, Kael. I'll be the one who owns the merchants. I'll have wealth that never ends, and a body that never dies."
"Sam, listen to me!" Kael shouted, reaching out. "The shard is lying! It's a parasite! It's using you to break the seal!"
"I'm sorry, brother," Sam said. There was a flicker of genuine tears in his eyes, but they didn't stop him. "But I've been poor my whole life. I've been the one looking up at the towers. Just once... I want to be the one looking down."
Sam didn't use magic. He didn't have any. Instead, he pulled a small, mechanical device from his belt—a high-pressure trap meant for restraining beasts.
Clack.
The metal teeth snapped shut around Kael's ankle, the jagged edges crushing through the reinforced diving suit and deep into the bone. Kael screamed, a sound that was muffled by the water-tight chamber but echoed through the mana-link between them. He fell to his knees, blood beginning to cloud the air.
"SAM!" Kael roared, his mana flaring. The Stasis Ring began to crack under the pressure of his fury.
But Sam was already moving. He ran to the edge of the central platform and slammed the obsidian shard into a recessed slot in the floor.
"The exchange is made!" Sam screamed. "Take the Sun! Give me the World!"
The sarcophagus didn't open. It shattered.
A cloud of pure, sentient shadow erupted from the obsidian. It didn't look like a person or a beast; it was a shifting mass of void, filled with a thousand blinking, violet eyes. The God had been released.
The entity didn't attack Sam. It ignored him, drawn instead to the massive, brilliant flare of mana coming from the wounded Kael. The shadow surged forward, wrapping around Kael's body like a shroud.
"Sam... please..." Kael gasped. He tried to raise his hand to cast a spell, but the shadow was already inside him. He could feel it sliding into his veins, wrapping around his mana core, and anchoring itself to his soul.
The Dark God screamed—not with a mouth, but with a psychic wave that shattered the glass of the mana-lanterns.
A PERFECT VESSEL, the God's voice boomed in Kael's mind, a sound of grinding metal and dying stars. A SUN THAT WILL NEVER GO OUT. WE SHALL SUFFER TOGETHER, LITTLE HEALER.
Sam watched from the doorway, his face illuminated by the violet explosion of energy. He saw the shadow dive into Kael's eyes, turning the white-gold light into a muddy, terrifying purple. He saw Kael's body arching, his bones snapping and resetting in a horrific display of cursed regeneration.
As the chamber began to collapse, a massive pile of jewels and gold coins began to materialize at Sam's feet—the literal "everlasting wealth" promised by the shard.
Sam scrambled to grab as much as he could, stuffing his pockets with the cold, heavy metal even as the ceiling began to fall. He looked back one last time.
Kael was pinned to the center of the platform, the black liquid from the pool rising up to swallow him. His eyes were wide, fixed on Sam. There was no anger in them yet. There was only the heartbreaking shock of a brother betrayed.
"I gave you everything," Kael's voice whispered through the mana-link, a faint, dying ember.
"And you gave me the world," Sam replied, his voice shaking.
Sam turned and ran. He made it back to the diving bell just as the Forbidden Chamber imploded. He didn't look back as the cables pulled him toward the surface, leaving his "brother" in the crushing dark of the abyss.
Down in the ruins, the transformation was beginning.
Kael lay in the dark, his leg crushed, his soul bound to a deity of agony. The curse had taken root. He felt his ribs shatter as the God's presence expanded inside him. He felt his blood boiling, turning into a toxic, dark ichor.
But he didn't die.
His body, trained by Elara's Healing Arts, fought back. It knit the bone. It cooled the blood. It stitched the skin.
And then the God broke it again.
And again.
And again.
Kael Light, the boy who wanted to see the world, was gone. In the silent, black depths of Aethelgard, something else was being forged in the furnace of betrayal.
The first moon of his nineteenth year began to rise far above the surface of the sea. Though Kael was miles below, he felt its pull. He felt his bones begin to crack with a rhythm that would define the next thousand years of his life.
He opened his eyes. They were no longer the color of the sun. They were the color of a bruised, weeping sky.
"Sam," Kael whispered into the black water.
It wasn't a call for help. It was a promise.
He would find the God. He would kill it. And then, he would find the Merchant.