Despite the hard and cold ground, he immediately fell into a deep sleep as soon as he allowed himself a moment of rest. The night was terrible, and the morning brought only new suffering—his body ached, and his spirit was even more broken than before. The only thing that slightly cheered him was the light rain that allowed him to quench his thirst, though not completely. However, today demanded new efforts from him—he needed to find food and shelter for the night, or he wouldn't survive another night like this. But deep inside, he was beginning to doubt that the settlement he had dreamed of was anywhere nearby.
After long and agonizing deliberation, he finally dragged himself out of the bushes and began his journey, leaning on a stick to keep from falling. The road was long and difficult—he stumbled and fell several times, unsure if it was due to his exhaustion or the challenging terrain. Every hundred steps, he took a short break, trying to regain his strength, but with each rest, it became harder. He saw animals along the way, but he avoided them, unwilling to face unknown dangers. On his journey, he fed on bugs and leaves. For two days, he pressed forward, spending the nights in dense bushes, which were his only shelter in this endless mountain forest.
When he finally emerged from the forest, a picturesque but grim scene unfolded before him—dark green meadows stretched into the distance, dotted with sparse trees and shrubs that seemed frozen in time, as if they had stood there for hundreds of years. The landscape was wild, with dead grass and ancient trees that gave the place a simultaneous feeling of tranquility and hopelessness. The sky was clear but cloudy, intensifying the sense of gloom. But the most striking feature was not the landscape—in the very center of this place stood a massive castle, its boundaries lost in a misty haze. It was ruined, its walls cracked, and the stone towers seemed ready to collapse at any moment.
He looked at the castle with a mix of despair and hope. He had no choice. Night was approaching, and he needed shelter, and this castle, though ruined, seemed like his last chance. Even the cold mountains he had left behind seemed more welcoming than this desolate landscape, but there was no way back.
As he approached, he saw that the entrance to the castle was open, though the bridge and stairs leading to it were half-ruined. Stepping carefully, he crossed the bridge and entered. What greeted him behind those ancient walls was even more oppressive. Before him opened the ruins of many houses—once majestic buildings now engulfed by grass and moss. The stone walls seemed to be slowly dissolving under the assault of time, and the silence was so thick and ominous that it felt like the air here didn't even stir.
Without further hesitation, he began exploring the houses, entering one after another. He saw how the doors had been knocked down, the furniture had decayed, and the dishes were covered with a thick layer of dust. In one of the houses, he found a kitchen knife, but as soon as he picked it up, the blade cracked in two. All the houses here were two-story, and in some of them, he found old books and manuscripts, the ink on which had faded almost completely. But since he couldn't read, he discarded them, considering them useless. He found pieces of cloth, but there was no clothing that could be used. While he was inspecting these houses, night fell.
He chose the safest-looking room in one of the houses, laid down the grass he had gathered, and, hidden behind the stones, finally allowed himself to sleep.
He slept for a long time, but his sleep was restless. He dreamed of a white bird with a human head that stared at him, piercing his soul with its gaze. At the end of the dream, the bird screamed, and the scream was so horrifying that he woke up, gripped by panic. All the fear he had tried to suppress surged back with renewed force. He looked around, fearing that a monster might be nearby, but after assuring himself that all was calm, he tried to sleep again. He thought he had conquered his fear, but in reality, he was only resisting it. In such moments, he still felt a natural terror.
When he awoke again, his state was strange. The fatigue had disappeared, and the pain had dulled. But when he opened his eyes, he realized he had woken up in a completely different place. He pinched himself several times, but it didn't help—the reality remained unchanged. He couldn't believe his eyes; in fact, the boy couldn't even move from fear. He lay on a cold stone, and it was dark all around, with only torches, seemingly placed here hundreds of years ago, lighting the way. It was the same stone from which the castle floor was made, so he was still inside it.
- How did I get here, no, how is this even possible?
Eventually, he barely managed to stand, but the fear hadn't gone away. Struggling to gather his thoughts, he saw two paths—one leading to the left, the other to the right. Without thinking too long, he chose the right corridor and moved forward.
The corridor was long and narrow. He walked slowly, as if ready to turn and run. About a minute passed when he suddenly stopped sharply and fell from shock. He gasped too loudly when he saw a skeleton with a shattered skull lying in front of him, clutching a sword in its hand. Slowly rising, he decided to examine the skeleton, still in a mild state of shock.
He bent down to take the sword, and when he touched it, a familiar voice echoed in his head:
[You have obtained a relic: Forgotten Sword]
The sword in the skeleton's hand disappeared, evaporating into the air, and for a moment, the boy felt a strange sensation in his soul. He couldn't describe it in words, so he closed his eyes, trying to focus, and summoned in his mind a set of words, listening until he found the relic, Forgotten Sword.
[Forgotten Sword]
[Rank 2/7]
[This sword once belonged to a powerful knight who served a great lich. However, the knight betrayed his master and paid for it with his life. But the sword never lost hope, always waiting for the moment of revenge.]
[The sword deals weak damage to physical beings, but more powerful damage to incorporeal ones. Its strength increases if the sword's owner possesses a certain affinity.]
[Enchantments: Deep Regret, Blinded by Emotions]
The boy was beside himself with joy. So much so that, immersed in his thoughts, he forgot where he was. If he understood correctly, relics were magical items that could be used for his own purposes. With a light sigh, he tried to listen to what the enchantments represented.
[Deep Regret]
[The worse the sword's owner controls their emotions, the weaker the weapon becomes.]
[Blinded by Emotions]
[The owner of this sword has a high chance of succumbing to emotions.]
These enchantments gave him mixed feelings. They were supportive abilities of the relic, and although they didn't seem perfect, he was glad to have acquired any weapon at all.
He listened to his new sword several more times and was still beside himself with joy. Sighing and remembering where he was, he opened his eyes and looked around. The realization that he had been too distracted brought him back to reality, and he began carefully examining the skeleton, but found nothing more.
Just as he was about to continue his journey, he suddenly heard a rustle behind him. Slowly turning around, he saw the skeleton, which had seemed dead for centuries, slowly rising to its feet...