Dense fog blanketed the horizon, as if the sky had held its breath over that cold, afflicted land. The wind howled in fury, carrying the lament of trees and ancient memories. In the heart of the black forest, Shao forged ahead with unwavering steps, his eyes glowing like embers in the night, his sword trailing behind him like a sentient shadow preparing to strike.
Days had passed since the battle of the "Fiery Abyss," and the wounds left by that inferno were not just on his body—they were carved into his soul. Shao's features had hardened, his gaze deepened, as though something inside him had shattered and reformed into something merciless.
His destination was clear: the ruins of *Tarok*, the stronghold of one of the oldest forgotten sects, where it was said the secret behind the *Curse of Blood* lay buried within its decaying walls. But the path was far from easy. The closer he got, the more intense the nightmares became, and the whispers in his mind grew more tangible.
Suddenly, a familiar murmur emerged from the shadows—soft as the morning breeze, yet laced with an unseen terror.
*"Shao…"*
He stopped in his tracks, staring into the darkness. And then, she appeared— *Linia*, the mysterious girl who had saved him one fateful night.
She was not as he remembered her. She looked pale, her form hazy at the edges, like a specter fleeing from the past. She approached him slowly, her eyes glowing an unsettling shade. In a hushed voice, she asked:
*"Will you open that door, Shao?… The door from which there is no return?"*
Without hesitation, he answered:
*"If truth lies beyond it… I will break the lock myself."*
She smiled sorrowfully, then vanished as swiftly as she had come, leaving behind nothing but a trace of ash and lingering perfume. Shao pressed onward into the ruins, which seemed to breathe—their walls rippling like living flesh, the ground pulsing beneath his feet.
Inside, he was met with the unexpected. Mirrors that did not reflect his image, but his past. Each mirror showed a painful moment—his failure to save his mother, his friend's betrayal, his mentor's death. Mirror after mirror, the visions struck like consecutive blows to the heart.
And at last, he reached the deepest chamber… where the *Final Guardian* awaited—an entity woven from shadow and blood, its eyes burning like blue fire, its voice reverberating through the walls of the crypt.
*"You have come seeking the origin of the curse?"*
*"I have come to end it."*
*"And what price will you pay?"*
*"Everything… except my name."*
And so the battle began. Shao wielded not only his sword, but everything he had learned, everything he had lived—all his scars, all his tears, forged into strength. The blows were ferocious, the earth trembling beneath their feet, the shadows trying to consume him. But in the end, Shao stood over the Guardian's bloodied form, breathless, as the ancient door behind him groaned open, its sound echoing like the screams of generations long tormented.
Beyond that door… lay the truth.
A truth that would change everything.