---
Kael walked with heavy steps, the forest around him shifting with unnatural quiet. The twisted trees of Wyrmveil loomed tall like solemn witnesses, their bark blackened and scarred by ancient battles. Each breath Kael took steamed in the chilled air, but his chest still burned—empty, like a hollow vessel echoing with grief.
A beast's blood still coated his hands. Not long ago, he had slain a feral Tier II Wyrmhound, and with its death, something changed.
The Onyx Armor shimmered with life. One by one, ghostly silhouettes flickered along its obsidian surface—Soul Echoes. The first was faint: a translucent figure kneeling, hands clasped in a silent plea. It was the Wyrmhound's echo, its agony imprinted onto the black metal like a curse. Kael stared, breath caught in his throat.
Ashuru's voice hummed low in his mind, the tone unreadable.
> "Each kill deepens the bond. The armor is remembering… and so will you."
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't. His gaze dropped to the pendant Elenore gave him, dangling near his heart. It didn't shine, didn't pulse. Just cold metal—like the grave where she now lay.
---
Far to the north, within the Citrine Spire, one of the Five Noble Houses, two figures studied a large crimson map filled with mana signatures.
"Third wave of distortion confirmed," said the woman. Her hair was silver-blonde, tied into an elegant braid laced with golden threads. Her name: Seraphine Vaelor, a noble from House Vaelor, Orange Core – High Grade.
Beside her stood Reinhardt Kaelis, a proud, red-eyed prodigy from House Kaelis. Crimson Core – Initiate Rank.
"We'll move into Wyrmveil by dusk. If that pulse came from a rogue beast, we neutralize it. If it's a person…"
He let the words hang.
Seraphine nodded. "Then we interrogate before the Royal Academy reaches them. We're not letting some anomaly go unclaimed."
---
Kael collapsed against a tree, breath heaving. His Onyx Armor clanked faintly with each movement. He wasn't used to it yet. The way it wrapped around him—it felt less like armor and more like a second skin stitched from nightmares.
A sudden click in the underbrush.
Kael's eyes sharpened. A creature stepped from the shadows. Towering, with three eyes and claws like crescent moons—a Tier III Dreadmire Leechbeast.
Ashuru growled from within him.
> "This one... its essence is foul. It's fed on cursed roots."
Kael didn't hesitate. Energy surged through his veins—not mana, but that raw, black flame of Nexis. It didn't glow. It pulsed like a heartbeat made of silence. The Ashen Sigil in his eyes blinked into view—red, focused, hungry.
The battle raged. Blades clashed against tendrils. Kael ducked, rolled, and leapt with an instinct that wasn't his own—his dagger slicing under the beast's exposed gill.
A final thrust. The dagger buried deep.
The beast let out a screech that pierced bone before collapsing.
Silence.
Then, the armor responded. The second Soul Echo emerged—taller than the last. It screamed silently, its form glitching, almost trying to resist.
Kael staggered backward.
> "Why… why do I feel their fear?"
> "Because you take more than life," Ashuru said quietly. "You take memory."
---
Back in Duskmoor, investigators had returned. The small village had changed. Gone were the corpses, but a stain of fear lingered.
At the cemetery, a woman knelt. Her uniform bore the Royal Empire's golden crest. Her name: Inquisitor Nyla.
"Elenore… she was just a maid," muttered the village head, wringing his hands. "We didn't know she had enemies…"
Behind Nyla stood Principal Ardellan, headmaster of Obsidian Spire Academy, a calm but terrifying man with eyes like frost. His mana core: Crimson High.
"She left with a boy," Ardellan murmured. "No records. No descriptions. Not even a name."
The grave shimmered faintly.
"Residual energy still strong," Nyla noted. "And dark."
Ardellan's gaze lingered on the soil.
"This wasn't the work of mana," he said, voice tight. "Something else. Something older."
---
In Wyrmveil, Kael stared into the fire. He hadn't cried. He didn't know how anymore.
His wounds burned, but it wasn't pain—it was power, gathering.
Ashuru fed slowly from the Leechbeast's corpse, his shadowy form coiled over the carcass like smoke.
> "Your path isn't survival anymore," Ashuru said. "It's ascension. You don't belong to this world's system. You're outside it."
Kael whispered, more to himself than anything:
"I didn't ask for this…"
The wind carried no answer. Only the distant roar of another monster.
---
Deeper in the forest, Seraphine Vaelor and Reinhardt Kaelis moved swiftly. The mana trails were erratic, but recent.
"A battle took place here," Reinhardt said. "But this isn't beast magic. It's something else."
Seraphine knelt. Her eyes caught flickers of black energy etched into the ground like claw marks.
Her core flared faintly, sensing echoes.
"Reinhardt," she whispered. "This isn't just raw energy. It's something worse."
A low growl stopped them.
From the trees descended a Wyrmveil Predator, Tier IV. Crimson scales, multi-jawed. Even the nobles froze.
> "Let's test your theory," Reinhardt said with a grin, drawing his blade.
---
Back at Kael's camp, sleep never came.
The Ashen Sigil flickered once, then again—responding to the presence in the forest.
Kael felt it.
Not the beast.
The people.
"Someone's close."
Ashuru tensed.
> "You need to leave. Now."
Kael stood. No hesitation. No time for mourning.
He wasn't ready to face the world. But the world was already hunting him.
As he slipped into the forest, leaving behind the traces of blood and soul echoes, the Onyx Armor pulsed. One by one, the souls flickered on its plates—like a grim tally of battles past.
He wasn't a warrior. Not yet.
But he was becoming something far more dangerous.