Daegal began his descent from the floating pathway, his body attuned to every subtle vibration in the air. The golden sphere pulsing in his pouch was a persistent reminder of his success—and of the weight it carried. The obelisk's glow dimmed as he moved further down, the ruins below gradually coming into sharper focus. Though the challenge of the serpent-beast had ended, the air remained thick with an unnatural tension, as if the valley itself was alive and observing him.
When Daegal's boots met solid ground, he scanned the ruins for signs of movement. The architecture here was more intact than in other parts of the valley. Massive stone arches stretched toward the sky, etched with the same shifting runes as the sphere. Statues of faceless figures loomed over cracked pathways, their postures suggesting both reverence and warning.
"This place wasn't abandoned," Daegal muttered to himself, his voice low. He crouched near a fallen statue, running his fingers over its shattered base. The stone was smooth and cold, but traces of energy lingered within, faint and flickering like dying embers. "Whoever built this, they left something behind. But why?"
The thought lingered as he ventured further into the ruins, the faint hum of energy from his pouch guiding his path.
Daegal's sharp instincts soon picked up on subtle movements in the shadows. The sensation of being watched intensified with every step he took. His hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice. The ruins were a labyrinth, and with every turn, he felt the unseen eyes drawing closer.
He paused at the entrance to a particularly grand archway. The stone was engraved with a depiction of what appeared to be a battle—humanoid figures wielding glowing blades clashing against monstrous creatures. At the heart of the scene was a radiant figure, holding aloft a sphere identical to the one now in Daegal's possession.
A low growl broke the silence. Daegal turned sharply, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. Emerging from the shadows were three figures, humanoid but grotesquely distorted. Their skin was pale and stretched tightly over their skeletal frames, their limbs unnaturally elongated. Their eyes glowed faintly green, reminiscent of the serpent-beast he had slain.
"Not guardians," Daegal observed, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Something... different."
The creatures didn't respond. They moved in unison, their clawed hands twitching as they encircled him. Daegal watched their movements carefully, noting the way they coordinated without any verbal cues.
"Pack hunters," he murmured, shifting his stance to prepare for an attack.
The first creature lunged, its claws slicing through the air with unnatural speed. Daegal sidestepped, his sword flashing in a clean arc that severed its arm. The creature let out a keening wail but didn't retreat. Instead, the other two attacked simultaneously, forcing Daegal into a defensive rhythm.
Their speed was uncanny, but Daegal was faster. He ducked under a sweeping claw, spinning to deliver a powerful slash that bisected one of the creatures at the waist. As its upper half crumpled to the ground, the remaining two adjusted their strategy, circling him more cautiously.
"Smart enough to learn," Daegal said, his tone almost admiring. "But not smart enough to win."
He surged forward, using the shard's energy to enhance his blade. The golden light flared as he struck, slicing cleanly through the first creature's torso. The final foe hesitated for a split second—just long enough for Daegal to drive his sword through its chest.
As the last creature fell, its body dissolved into shimmering particles, much like the serpent-beast before it. Daegal stood amidst the fading light, his breathing steady but his mind racing.
The defeated creatures left behind faint trails of energy, leading toward a partially collapsed building at the edge of the ruins. Daegal followed the trail, his steps quiet but deliberate. The building's entrance was blocked by rubble, but a narrow gap near the base of the wall allowed him to squeeze through.
Inside, the air was cool and damp. The faint glow of the sphere in his pouch illuminated the space, revealing an underground chamber. The walls were lined with shelves, each filled with ancient scrolls and tablets covered in runes. At the center of the room was a raised pedestal, similar to the one atop the obelisk.
Daegal approached the pedestal cautiously. Resting atop it was another sphere, smaller than the one he carried and dimmer in its glow. As he reached out to touch it, a familiar voice echoed in his mind—the voice of the robed figure from his earlier vision.
"This is the heart of their legacy," the voice said. "Knowledge forged in sacrifice, preserved against time. Will you claim it?"
Daegal hesitated, his hand hovering over the smaller sphere. He could feel the weight of the question, the unspoken consequences of his choice. But hesitation wasn't in his nature.
"I'll claim it," he said firmly, gripping the sphere. "And I'll decide what it's worth."
The moment his fingers closed around the sphere, a surge of information flooded his mind. Visions of ancient rituals, wars waged in shadow, and the creation of the obelisk played out in vivid detail. The energy coursing through him was overwhelming, forcing him to his knees as he struggled to process it.
When the torrent finally subsided, Daegal rose unsteadily to his feet. His eyes burned with newfound understanding.
As Daegal stepped away from the pedestal, the chamber began to tremble. The shelves lining the walls collapsed, and cracks spread across the floor. He sprinted toward the exit, narrowly avoiding falling debris as the room caved in behind him. Emerging into the ruins, he was greeted by an unnatural silence. The energy in the air had grown heavier, almost oppressive.
From the shadows emerged a figure clad in flowing robes, their face obscured by a hood. The figure's presence was palpable, radiating an aura of authority that made the air around them shimmer.
"You carry the keys to a power older than this world," the figure said, their voice layered with echoes. "Do you understand what you've claimed?"
Daegal's grip tightened on his sword. "Enough to know it's mine now."
The figure tilted their head slightly, as if amused. "Arrogance is a dangerous companion, traveler. But perhaps it will serve you well in the trials to come."
Before Daegal could respond, the figure raised a hand. A blinding light engulfed the ruins, and when it faded, the figure was gone.
Daegal stood alone, the ruins eerily silent once more. He glanced at the two spheres in his possession, their energy pulsing faintly as if in response to one another.
"The trials to come," he repeated under his breath. His expression hardened, and he began to move, his steps purposeful. "Let them come."
As Daegal left the ruins behind, the valley stretched out before him, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Each step carried him further from the familiar and deeper into the unknown. The spheres pulsed softly in his pouch, their resonance a constant reminder of the path he had chosen.
He paused at the edge of the valley, looking back at the ruins one last time. Though the journey ahead was uncertain, Daegal's resolve burned brighter than ever.
"I'll uncover every truth," he said, his voice steady. "No matter the cost."
And with that, he turned toward the horizon, ready to face whatever awaited him.