After months of wandering, Kael reached the edge of the Demonic Continent. He had survived, barely, but he had survived. In the shadow of a massive ancient tree, he built a small house high in the branches. It wasn't much, just enough to keep him off the ground, away from the beasts that roamed below. He spent the days sharpening his blade, reinforcing his shelter, and keeping watch for any signs of danger.
But at night, when the wind howled through the trees and the shadows seemed to whisper his name, Kael felt the crushing weight of his loneliness.
"Maybe I should've stayed," he whispered to himself one night, lying on the floor of his treehouse, staring up at the stars. "Maybe… I didn't have to run."
But deep down, he knew that wasn't true. As long as the crystal was with him, The Voice would never be far behind. And as much as it hurt, this was the only way to protect the people he cared about.
"I'm not like you," he said softly, thinking of The Voice, his words carried away by the wind. "I won't sacrifice them. Not for anything."
And so, Kael waited in the solitude of the demonic lands, determined to survive without the power that had both saved and cursed him. Even if it meant being alone, far from everything he had ever known.
Who am I?
The months stretched into a blur of endless, quiet days. The sun rose and fell over the treetops, casting long shadows across Kael's path as he roamed deeper into the forest, far from the village, far from the people he once called friends. Each step felt heavier than the last, but the decision to leave had been made, and he swore he wouldn't look back. This was the only way to protect them—from the Crystal, from himself, and from him.
The Voice.
The forest had become his only companion now, its silence broken only by the wind rustling through the leaves or the distant howl of beasts prowling the underbrush. Kael moved like a shadow through the trees, a sword strapped to his back—a sword he had made with his own hands, forged in a moment of desperate need. He was stronger now, physically hardened by the wild, but the weight inside him—the mental strain—was another battle entirely.
His muscles ached from days of walking, hunting, and fighting. His eyes were hollow from lack of sleep, but his mind was sharper than it had ever been, honed by necessity. The wild had forced him to adapt, to become something else, something primal. He had built a treehouse in the heart of the forest, a shelter high in the branches where he could rest away from the beasts that prowled below. It was simple—nothing more than planks of wood and a roof made of dried leaves—but it was enough to keep him alive.
At first, the quiet solitude of the forest was a relief. It was peaceful, even beautiful in its raw, untamed way. But the longer he stayed, the more the silence grew oppressive, wrapping around him like a shroud. The isolation pressed against his mind, twisting his thoughts, leaving him with nothing but his doubts and The Voice.
"You're still running, Kael," The Voice whispered, its familiar, taunting tone slithering into his thoughts as he crouched by the stream, washing blood from his hands after another brutal hunt. "But for how long?"
Kael didn't answer. He never did. Talking to The Voice felt like giving it power, acknowledging its hold over him. But it was always there, lingering at the edges of his consciousness, watching, judging, mocking.
"Don't you miss them? The people you left behind? The life you could've had?" The Voice continued, dripping with mock pity. "You think you're protecting them by running away, but you're just delaying the inevitable. You are the danger."
Kael's jaw tightened, his hand hovering over the pouch where the Crystal of Creation rested. Its power was always there, calling to him, tempting him. Just a touch, just a flicker of its energy, and he could end the torment, silence The Voice, defeat the beasts that hunted him with ease. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. The crystal was a curse, a dangerous lure that would only bring him closer to the thing he feared most—becoming like him.
The Voice chuckled darkly, sensing Kael's hesitation. "You're getting stronger, but how long before you realize it's not enough? How long before you give in?"
Kael ignored it, turning his focus to the path ahead. The beasts of the forest were relentless, and every day brought a new challenge. He had fought and bled in this wilderness, refusing to rely on the crystal's power, determined to prove to himself that he could survive without it. But the toll was beginning to show. His sword, once sharp and pristine, was now chipped and stained with the blood of countless creatures. His body was covered in scars, reminders of every battle, every near-death experience.
One night, as he sat by the fire in his treehouse, sharpening his blade, the ground beneath him trembled. The trees swayed as something massive approached, the earth shaking with each step. Kael's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins. He stood, sword in hand, eyes scanning the darkness beyond the firelight.
From the shadows emerged a beast larger than anything he had faced before. Its eyes glowed like embers in the dark, its massive body covered in thick, black fur, rippling with muscle. It was a direbear, its claws sharp enough to tear through steel, its roar shaking the very trees around them. Kael's grip tightened on his sword as the beast charged, its massive form barreling toward him with terrifying speed.
Kael sidestepped just in time, his sword slashing through the air as the direbear's claws narrowly missed his head. The force of its attack sent debris flying, and Kael rolled to the side, coming up on one knee. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, each beat echoing the thundering steps of the beast.
"No crystal," Kael muttered to himself, gritting his teeth. "Not now."
The direbear swung its massive paw again, and Kael ducked beneath it, slashing at its leg. His sword bit into the beast's thick fur, but it barely slowed. The direbear roared, turning to face him, its eyes burning with rage. Kael could feel the exhaustion creeping into his limbs, the weight of every fight, every struggle pressing down on him. He was tired—so tired—but he couldn't stop. He wouldn't.
The beast lunged again, and this time Kael was ready. He leaped to the side, driving his sword into the back of the creature's neck. The blade sank deep, and the direbear let out a deafening roar, thrashing wildly as it tried to shake him off. Kael held on, twisting the blade, his muscles burning with the effort. With a final, guttural cry, the beast collapsed, its massive body crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust and blood.
Kael stood over the fallen creature, his chest heaving, his sword slick with blood. He wiped his brow, looking down at the corpse. Another victory. Another fight survived. But the triumph felt hollow.
"Is this what I've become?" he whispered to the darkness, his voice barely audible. "A killer? A survivor at any cost?"
"You're stronger than you were before," The Voice said, its tone almost… approving. "But you still don't see it, do you? This is who you are now. You can't go back. You can't escape it."
Kael clenched his fists, his knuckles white. He wanted to scream, to tell The Voice it was wrong, that he wasn't like him, that he was still fighting to hold onto something—some piece of himself that was good, that wasn't lost. But the words stuck in his throat, choked by the doubt that had been growing inside him for months.
The nights were the worst. Alone in his treehouse, the wind howling through the branches, Kael would stare at the stars and wonder if there was still a place for him among people. If he could ever return to the village, to Elara, to anyone. Or if he had gone too far, become too detached from everything human. He had survived, but at what cost?
"Am I a good person?" he whispered one night, the firelight flickering weakly as he sat with his back against the rough wooden wall of his shelter. The question hung in the air, unanswered.
For the first time, The Voice didn't laugh or mock him. It was silent for a long moment, as if considering the question.
"I know how you feel," The Voice finally said, its tone softer, almost… reflective. "I asked myself the same thing once. Before I became what I am."
Kael blinked, surprised by the shift in The Voice's demeanor. There was no malice, no pity—just a strange, unsettling understanding.
"I was like you," The Voice continued. "Fighting to survive. Trying to hold onto something good, something worth saving. But in the end, survival meant sacrifice. It always does. You're walking the same path I did, Kael. You're just too stubborn to admit it."
Kael's hand drifted to the pouch at his side, where the crystal lay hidden. It was always there, always waiting, its power just within reach. He could end this struggle, end this endless torment with a single touch. But at what cost?
"You're stronger now," The Voice said. "Keep using the sword. Keep fighting. But remember… the crystal is there. And when you start to rely on it, when you give in—I'll be there to take your life."
Kael swallowed hard, his hand trembling. The promise hung in the air like a curse, but there was no comfort in it. Only a grim acknowledgment of the path he was walking.
"Maybe… maybe I've already gone too far," Kael whispered, his voice barely audible.
But there was no one to answer him. Only the wind, the darkness, and the cold silence of the forest.
Months later
The months passed in a blur of silence, the only sound in the forest being the rustle of leaves, the crack of branches, and the occasional whisper of The Voice in Kael's mind. Living in isolation, Kael had adapted to the brutal realities of the forest. He had grown stronger, more adept at hunting and defending himself, but with each passing day, something inside him hardened. There was no one to help him, no one to rely on but himself, and that made him resilient—but also colder.
His muscles ached from the endless battles with beasts that prowled the forest, but the pain had become routine. Every swing of his sword was sharper, every move more precise. He had learned to rely on his instincts, but each victory felt hollow. The isolation gnawed at him. Without people, without purpose, the fights became nothing more than a way to pass the time, a distraction from the emptiness gnawing at him from within.
Then there was The Voice. Always there. Always mocking, always pitying. It whispered during the nights, when the forest was at its quietest, and Kael would lie awake in his treehouse, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore it. Yet, even as he tried to shut it out, part of him clung to the sound. It was the only connection to anything outside of himself, and as much as he hated The Voice, it was the only thing keeping him from drowning in his own loneliness.
"You're strong, but still weak," The Voice would say, its tone both condescending and soft. "I could make it easier for you. Just use the crystal."
Kael would clench his fists, the temptation crawling under his skin. The power was there, locked away, and he could feel it pulsing like a second heartbeat. But he refused. The crystal wasn't an option. Using it would mean losing himself, and Kael couldn't allow that—not yet.
The solitude twisted his thoughts, making him question his own worth. Was he still a good person? Every time he killed a beast, he wondered if he was any different from the monsters he fought. He needed someone—anyone—to tell him he wasn't lost, that he was still worth something. But there was no one. Only The Voice, and it was far from reassuring.
"Good? What does it even mean to be good in this world?" The Voice laughed during one particularly quiet night. "You think sparing them would change anything? It's all survival now, Kael. You're like me, whether you admit it or not."
Kael hated how those words clung to him, how they made sense in a sick way. But he wasn't like The Voice. He couldn't be. He wouldn't sacrifice the people he cared about for power. But doubt lingered. If it came down to it—if it was life or death—would he?
Days turned into weeks, and Kael's thoughts became heavier, clouded by the constant isolation and the weight of his choices. Pragmatism took root in his mind. He wasn't fighting for some noble cause out here; he was fighting to survive. And survival, he realized, wasn't black and white. There was no room for morality when every day was a fight to stay alive.
The Voice sensed the shift in him. It grew quieter, less taunting, more contemplative.
"I know how it feels," The Voice murmured one evening as Kael sharpened his sword by the dying fire. "To question everything. To wonder if you've already lost your way."
Kael didn't respond, but his hand stilled on the blade. The Voice's tone wasn't mocking this time. It almost sounded… understanding.
"I had to make sacrifices too," The Voice continued. "I had to become something I never wanted to be. That's the price of power, of survival. But you're doing well, Kael. Better than I expected. Keep using the sword, for now. You're becoming stronger. But remember, the crystal is always there. And if you start to rely on it… I'll be there to take your life."
Kael's jaw clenched, the familiar anger flaring up, but there was something else. A small, twisted comfort in The Voice's words. The Voice knew him, maybe better than he knew himself. It was the only constant in his life, the only connection he had left to the outside world.
As Kael stood, sword in hand, he looked out at the darkened forest, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. His body had grown strong, his skills sharpened, but his mind felt heavy, filled with doubt. He wanted to believe he was still good. He wanted to believe he could return one day, that he wasn't too far gone.
Realize...
The forest had grown quieter over the months, its once overwhelming vastness now familiar to Kael. Every shadow, every rustle of leaves, felt like part of him. He no longer feared the beasts that prowled the underbrush or the threats that lurked in the darkness. He had become part of the wild, honed by isolation, his body stronger, his mind sharper. The months of solitude, surviving off the land, fighting both nature and the twisted creatures that lived here, had made him stronger—much stronger.
The forest had been his battleground, his training ground. Day after day, he fought, each swing of his sword, each victory carving away the doubt that had plagued him. Every time he resisted using the crystal's power, it was a triumph—a small defiance against The Voice that lived in his head, taunting him. He could feel the weight of the crystal on his side, its temptation always present, whispering of its potential, its strength. But Kael had learned that true power wasn't in the crystal—it was within himself.
He had felt it in his muscles as they hardened from days of swinging his sword at monstrous enemies. He had felt it in his lungs as they expanded to take in the wild air, his body enduring long, grueling hunts. His scars were his history now—each one a reminder that he had survived against impossible odds. He had become something more than a man running from his past.
And now, finally, the realization hit him—he was stronger than The Voice.
It started as a whisper in the back of his mind. Doubt that had once been his constant companion began to dissolve, replaced with something new. Confidence. He didn't need the crystal's power. He didn't need The Voice. He had fought beasts twice his size, creatures that would have torn him apart months ago. He had survived. No, he had thrived.
He was stronger than The Voice ever gave him credit for.
And more importantly, he was a good person.
It had taken time for him to admit that to himself. The weight of his past, the lives he'd left behind, the moral struggle of using the crystal's cursed power—they had burdened him for so long. But now, standing here in the forest, with the fresh scent of pine filling his lungs, he saw it clearly. The Voice had always tried to warp his sense of self, filling his head with pity, taunting him with his weakness.
But it was all a lie.
He could beat him.
The realization hit him like a flash of lightning. If The Voice was so omnipotent, if he truly held power over Kael's fate, why hadn't he taken the crystal already? Why whisper threats and promises? Why linger in Kael's mind like a parasite instead of crushing him outright?
The answer was clear.
The Voice needed the crystal too.
Kael stopped mid-stride, his hand brushing against the pouch where the crystal rested. His mind raced. The Voice wanted the crystals for himself, but why? If he already had ultimate power, why would he covet something weaker than what he possessed?
The answer was simple: He didn't have anything stronger.
"Fuck you, Voice," Kael growled under his breath, the fire of defiance surging in his veins. "I guess I was truly an idiot for believing you. You're just a weak bastard who wants to use me."
The forest seemed to hold its breath as Kael spoke the words aloud. For the first time, he felt truly liberated from The Voice's constant presence. His heart thundered in his chest, not from fear, but from the exhilaration of realizing the truth.
He turned, his feet moving with a newfound purpose. The village. He could go back. He had left to protect them, to keep them safe from the dangers he carried, but now he understood—he was no danger to them. He was in control, not The Voice. He would walk back to that village, not as the fearful, uncertain man who had fled, but as someone who had overcome the trials of the forest. He had faced monsters, both physical and within his own mind, and he had emerged stronger.
As he strode through the trees, the Voice, for once, was silent. But it wouldn't last long.
Suddenly, a low chuckle echoed in his head, the familiar sinister tone creeping back into his thoughts. "W-w-what?" The Voice stammered at first, disbelief tainting its words. "You think you've figured it out, Kael? You think you're stronger than me?"
The chuckle grew louder, morphing into a deep, menacing laugh. Kael's steps didn't falter, but he could feel the weight of The Voice pressing on his mind, like a dark cloud beginning to form on the horizon. "Oh, Kael. You truly are amusing," The Voice said, a twisted glee coloring its words. "You think you're free because you've grown stronger? You think your little epiphany changes anything?"
Kael's grip on his sword tightened, but he didn't slow his pace. The village was still far, but each step brought him closer. Closer to the people he'd left behind. Closer to the life he thought he couldn't have.
"I guess I was wrong about you," The Voice continued, its tone shifting from mockery to something almost… admiring. "I didn't think you had it in you to survive this long. You've grown, Kael. You've become quite the warrior."
Kael's lips tightened into a grim smile. The Voice's praise meant nothing to him now. He wasn't the scared, unsure boy he had been when this all started. He was stronger. Stronger than The Voice had ever anticipated.
"And yet," The Voice hissed, its dark tone returning, "you still need me. You may have grown stronger with your sword, Kael, but don't think for a second that you can win without the crystal's power. You can fight all you want, but you will fall. Eventually."
Kael stopped, the trees around him swaying in the wind, the air heavy with tension. He could feel The Voice looming in his mind, watching him, waiting for his response. Slowly, deliberately, Kael reached into his pouch and pulled out the crystal. Its surface shimmered in the faint light filtering through the canopy, a dangerous beauty, its power thrumming beneath his fingertips.
"I don't need it," Kael said, his voice steady, filled with newfound conviction. "Not anymore."
He lifted his gaze to the horizon, where the edge of the village lay hidden beyond the trees. He was going back. He would face whatever awaited him, not as the man who fled, but as the warrior he had become.
The Voice, for the first time, was silent.
Then, after a long pause, it spoke again—its tone different. Darker. Colder.
"Maybe you've gotten stronger, Kael," The Voice said, almost in a whisper, "but don't think for a second I'll let you go that easily. Keep using the crystal's power, and I'll be waiting for you. And when you start to rely on it… when you give in, even for a moment..."
Kael could almost feel the smile curling in the darkness of his mind.
"I'll take everything from you."
Kael's heart pounded, but he felt no fear. Not anymore. He was ready. He would fight, not just for himself, but for the people he had left behind. He would confront The Voice, and when the time came, he would face him without hesitation.
The crystal flickered in his hand, its power calling to him, but he only tightened his grip on his sword.
With a final breath, Kael whispered to himself, "I'm coming back."
And he walked forward, into the unknown, the shadow of The Voice still lurking behind him, but no longer controlling him. The forest thinned as he neared the village, the next chapter of his journey unfolding.
[Crystal of Creation]
+ Absolute Creation
Grants the ability to forge anything imaginable, constrained only by physical limits like size and complexity.
+ Infinite Creation
Creations remain permanent, but each one drains a portion of the crystal's strength over time.
New Abilities Locked – Awaiting Unlock