**Chapter 1: The Forsaken**

The storm raged as Alex trudged through the desolate forest, each step sinking into the muddy earth. His thin frame shivered beneath the weight of soaked, torn robes that once displayed his family's crest. Now, they were nothing more than rags clinging to a body abandoned by all. 

His breath was ragged, his steps uneven as he staggered further into the wilderness. Behind him lay the world he once knew—his home, his family, his life of privilege. But none of that mattered anymore. He was no longer Alex of the noble house. He was no longer anyone.

"Leave, and never return."

The voice of his father echoed in his mind, cold and unrelenting. There had been no room for argument, no chance to plead his case. His fate had been sealed since the moment of his birth.

Weak. Unworthy. A curse.

Born with a constitution that could not cultivate, Alex had never been able to live up to the expectations of his family, a clan known for their strength and mastery of the ancient arts. His siblings were prodigies, hailed as the future of their house. Meanwhile, Alex was scorned and cast aside, a mere shadow compared to their brilliance.

"You should never have been born," his elder brother had whispered before pushing him to the ground in front of the entire family. The sneers, the looks of disdain—they still burned in Alex's memory.

The wind howled through the trees, whipping his soaked hair across his face. Alex stumbled forward, barely able to see in the darkness, but he refused to stop. There was nowhere to go back to. His heart was filled with nothing but rage, bitterness, and a cold emptiness that seemed to grow deeper with every step.

As the night deepened, the forest grew more ominous. Strange creatures lurked in the shadows, watching him with glowing eyes. He knew the wilderness was no place for someone like him, but it was no less forgiving than the family that had cast him out.

*Maybe it's better this way,* he thought, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. *Let the beasts tear me apart. At least it would be a quicker death than the slow one I've been given.*

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As he wandered deeper into the forest, Alex stumbled upon something unexpected. A faint light flickered through the trees ahead, barely visible but unmistakable in the suffocating darkness. His curiosity piqued, he pushed forward, his legs trembling from exhaustion.

What he found was not a campfire or a wanderer like himself, but a small, hidden clearing. At its center, an ancient stone altar stood, covered in strange markings that pulsed faintly with crimson light. Above the altar floated a glowing sphere, radiating an eerie, malevolent energy.

Alex's heart raced, but it wasn't fear that gripped him. It was something else. A sense of inevitability. He could feel the dark power emanating from the artifact, calling to him, pulling at the deepest parts of his soul.

Without thinking, he approached. His hand reached out as if guided by something far beyond his control. The moment his fingers brushed the cold surface of the sphere, the world around him exploded in a flash of crimson light.

The power surged into him, overwhelming every fiber of his being. Pain. Unimaginable pain ripped through his body, burning him from the inside out. His muscles spasmed, and his bones felt like they were being torn apart and rebuilt at the same time. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, but he couldn't scream. His throat was locked in a silent battle against the torrent of energy flooding him.

And then, amidst the excruciating torment, a voice echoed within his mind. Dark, ancient, and filled with malice.

**"You are weak, but you are not beyond saving. Accept me, and I will grant you power beyond your wildest dreams. Reject me, and your suffering will continue until death claims you."**

Alex's vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to fade away. Only the voice remained, cold and insistent. He knew what this was. The stories of dark artifacts, vessels of demonic souls, were not unfamiliar to him. Power came at a price, and this price could be his very soul.

But what did he have to lose? His family had abandoned him. The world had spat on him. His heart, already blackened by hatred, had no space left for morality.

"I accept," he rasped, barely able to speak through the pain. "Give me the power... to make them suffer."

The voice chuckled, dark and triumphant.

**"Very well."**

The pain intensified, but this time Alex welcomed it. His body began to change. Muscles that had once been weak and frail strengthened and hardened. His senses sharpened, his mind expanding as new knowledge flooded into him—ancient, forbidden cultivation techniques, the manipulation of blood, the power to control souls. 

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain stopped. Alex lay there on the cold ground, his chest heaving, his body trembling. But he felt it. The power. It coursed through him now like a river of molten energy.

He stood, unsteady but determined. His reflection in the puddle beneath him was almost unrecognizable. His once gaunt face was now sharper, more defined, with a cold, calculating expression that hadn't been there before. His eyes glowed faintly with a crimson hue, a mark of the dark power that now resided within him.

The old Alex was gone. In his place stood something new—something far more dangerous.

For the first time in his life, Alex felt powerful. Not just strong, but invincible. And with this newfound strength came a burning purpose.

*I will make them regret ever casting me aside. I will make them all suffer.*

As the storm raged on, Alex walked out of the clearing, the darkness of the forest no longer frightening but familiar. He had embraced it. The first steps on his path to vengeance had been taken, and there was no turning back.

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**End of Chapter 1.**