Kael stood in stunned silence, his heart pounding in his chest as the words echoed in his mind. Ancestor? His thoughts spun, struggling to grasp the reality of what he had just been told.
"You are... my ancestor?" he asked in disbelief, his voice trembling in his thoughts, still trying to comprehend the situation. The voice—the ancestor—merely chuckled in response.
"Yes, child. I am your ancestor, though our bloodline stretches back far longer than you can imagine." The voice was calm, almost warm, yet Kael couldn't shake the deep, unsettling sense of power that lingered behind it. "This conversation is happening in your mind, at a rate far faster than those around you can perceive. So do not worry—they see nothing."
Kael's mind raced as the ancestor continued. The ancestor of Eldenwood... He'd never even heard of the name Eldenwood, much less knew he was connected to it. He wanted to ask more, but the voice didn't stop.
"Anyways, child of Eldenwood, I am glad I was able to meet you before my spirit dissolves into the void. My time here is fleeting, but before I fade, I will give you the key to your prophecy."
Before Kael could respond, the ground beneath him rumbled, the entire castle trembling. His eyes widened as the walls and floor shook violently, cracks appearing in the smooth black marble. He turned his head to see the captain monster and the rest of the creatures shivering in fear, their grotesque forms frozen as if paralyzed. Even Lira, Gareth, and the other members of his group had stopped moving. They stood perfectly still, their expressions locked in shock.
Kael's heart skipped a beat. What's happening? He looked around in panic, but everything around him was deathly still—except for him.
"Do not be afraid," the ancestor's voice whispered, calm and steady in Kael's mind. "This is the moment I have waited for."
From the figure on the throne, something shifted. A faint light emanated from its decaying shell, and before Kael's wide eyes, an apparition emerged. It took the form of a wise old man, draped in a traditional white robe. His long white hair flowed behind him, and a short, thick beard adorned his face. His eyes were deep, ancient, and filled with knowledge. Kael felt his breath catch in his throat. He was staring at someone—or something—that was supposed to be long dead.
The apparition spoke in an ancient tongue, a language Kael didn't recognize but could somehow feel vibrating through the air. The throne and the grotesque figure upon it seemed to melt away, dissolving into nothingness. Before Kael could react, he felt his feet leave the ground. He was being lifted, not by hands, but by a force that wrapped around him like invisible ropes, pulling him into the air.
The ancestor's voice returned, stronger now, reverberating through his thoughts. "This is a heavy burden to carry... Kael, was it?" The ancestor's tone was thoughtful, as though musing over Kael's name. "This is the true power of our lineage. Watch, and understand."
Kael's heart hammered in his chest as he floated, watching the room—the whole black structure in the void—begin to shift. The entire castle seemed to melt and flow, as if it were made of liquid darkness. The walls, the ceiling, the floors—they all broke down into a swirling mass of black liquid, and yet Kael was untouched, hovering above it all.
The dark liquid gathered, swirling into a dense, pulsating sphere—a small, confused ball of black liquid that seemed to suck in all the surrounding light. Kael could only stare in awe and fear as the strange magic unfolded before him.
He looked around, noticing that the others—his group, the monsters—were also floating in the air, suspended like puppets by the same force that held him. They were still unmoving, their eyes wide in shock, but they too witnessed the transformation of the castle around them.
The ancestor's voice filled Kael's mind once more, clear and commanding. "In the North lies the Glaciar Dominion," he said, his tone filled with ancient wisdom. "In the East, the Demonic Tribes roam, ever warring. In the South, the Elven Forests stand as guardians of old magic. And in the West, the shattered remains of the Dragonkin slumber. But at the heart of it all, in the central continent, we humans thrive."
Kael listened, his mind struggling to keep up with the barrage of information. He knew none of these names, none of these places. His life had been spent in a quiet village, farming and tending to mundane tasks. Yet here, before him, an entire world was unfolding, far larger and more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.
"The treasures of this world," the ancestor continued, "each continent since the beginning of time has borne a sacred treasure. An item of divine rank that only expresses its true power at the Ninth Layer—or perhaps beyond." His voice dropped into a thoughtful murmur. "I myself only reached the peak of the Eighth Layer, and with it, I was able to conquer the world."
Kael's eyes widened as he watched the ancestor stretch out his hand toward the swirling black liquid. With a flick of his fingers, the dark mass began to shift, transforming before Kael's eyes. It morphed and twisted until it formed into a small, ornate flask. The flask glowed, oscillating between a blinding white light and a void-like blackness.
The ancestor held the flask before Kael, his voice low and grave. "This treasure... is your burden to carry. The key to the prophecy."
Before Kael could speak, the castle shook violently again, and the monsters below them let out a terrifying shriek. Kael's eyes darted to them in horror as he watched their grotesque bodies melt away, dissolving into the same black liquid that had formed the flask. They were being absorbed, consumed by the very treasure they had guarded for so long.
The flask glowed a deep, blood-red as the last of the monsters fused with it. The ancestor's voice returned, but now it held a tone of satisfaction. "I have waited for this moment. The creatures of this place—beasts who have lived in isolation for centuries—now fuel the child of prophecy."
Kael watched in shock as the flask pulsated, growing brighter and brighter until it became a deep crimson. The ancestor smiled, his face serene, and with a casual flick of his fingers, a glowing magic circle appeared in the air. It shimmered for a moment before it shot toward Kael, embedding itself into his chest.
"You will be teleported out of here in three days," the ancestor said, his voice calm and commanding. "Take that time to grow accustomed to this power. You will learn its name in time, child. But beware—many kingdoms and countries will seek to control you. Worse, they may see fit to erase you before your power fully manifests."
Before Kael could respond, the ancestor lifted his hand, and the flask began to change once more. With a blinding flash, the crimson glow faded, and the flask became entirely silver, gleaming with a quiet power.
The ancestor smiled one last time. "Stay safe, my child. The world is not kind to those who bear such power."
With that, the apparition began to dissolve. The ancestor's form melted into the flask, fusing with it completely. Kael stared, his hand trembling as the flask floated toward him. Almost unconsciously, his fingers wrapped around it, gripping the cool, silver surface.
Without thinking, Kael brought the flask to his lips and drank.
A thick, silvery liquid poured down his throat, tasting faintly of wine—a taste he hadn't experienced since his days as a simple farmer. The liquid was cold, yet it burned as it slid down his throat, sending a sharp, searing sensation through his entire body.
His heart began to race, pounding so hard he thought it might burst. His muscles tensed and spasmed, his vision blurred, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Whatever was in that flask, it was working—doing something to him. Something he couldn't understand.
Kael convulsed violently, his body thrashing as pain surged through him. He fell to the ground, gasping for air. His body felt like it was being torn apart from the inside out. Cracking sounds echoed from his bones, but there was no blood—just the agonizing pain that wracked his entire being.
Suddenly, he doubled over and vomited, a thick, black and red liquid spilling from his mouth. He coughed and retched, the pain relentless as his body continued to contort.
If anyone had been there, they would have seen a man writhing in agony, his body bending and twisting as though being reshaped by the raw power coursing through him. But Kael was alone, lost in a sea of pain, as the prophecy began to take hold within him.