The air inside the temple was cold and still, heavy with the weight of ancient power. Faint golden light seeped from cracks in the stone walls, illuminating the glyphs that spiraled across every surface. Alaric ran his fingers over one of the carvings, marveling at its intricacy. It felt alive, humming faintly beneath his touch.
The voice returned, its tone softer than before. "This place remembers. It has been waiting for you."
"Waiting for me?" Alaric whispered, his voice echoing faintly. "Why?"
"Because it holds what you seek."
The words sent a shiver down his spine. He tightened his grip on the hatchet and stepped further into the ruins, the light growing brighter with each step. The corridor opened into a vast chamber, its ceiling lost in shadows. At the center stood a pedestal, its surface etched with more glyphs, and above it floated a glowing orb, pulsing rhythmically like a heartbeat.
Alaric approached cautiously, his eyes fixed on the orb. It felt alive, its light shifting and swirling as if aware of his presence.
"What is this?" he asked.
"The First Seal," the voice replied. "Your bloodline is bound by three seals, each one locking away a portion of your power. This is the first. To awaken, you must break it."
Alaric frowned. "And how do I do that?"
The voice didn't answer. Instead, the glyphs on the pedestal flared to life, their light spreading across the chamber. A low rumble shook the ground, and Alaric stumbled back as the orb descended, its glow intensifying.
Then the voice spoke again, colder and sharper.
"Prove your worth."
The light exploded outward, blinding him. When his vision cleared, the chamber was gone. He stood in a vast, desolate landscape, the ground cracked and dry beneath his feet. The sky was a swirling mass of storm clouds, lit by occasional flashes of lightning.
And he wasn't alone.
A figure stood across from him, its form cloaked in shadow. It was humanoid but wrong, its limbs too long, its movements too fluid. Its eyes glowed with the same eerie light as the wolves, and in its hand, it held a blade that shimmered like molten silver.
Alaric's pulse quickened. He raised the hatchet, his grip steady despite the fear clawing at his chest.
The figure moved.
It was fast—faster than anything he'd faced before. Alaric barely managed to dodge as the blade slashed through the air, the force of it sending a shockwave rippling across the ground. He rolled to his feet, swinging the hatchet in a wide arc, but the figure blocked it effortlessly, its movements fluid and precise.
"You've got to be kidding me," Alaric muttered, his breath coming in short gasps.
The figure attacked again, its strikes relentless. Alaric dodged and parried, his body moving instinctively, guided by the combat proficiency the system had granted him. But it wasn't enough. The figure was faster, stronger, and unrelenting.
A sharp pain flared in his side as the blade grazed him, drawing blood. Alaric stumbled, his knees hitting the cracked earth. The figure loomed over him, its blade raised for the final strike.
"Get up," the voice commanded.
"I can't," Alaric spat, his hands trembling. "It's too strong."
"It is not strength that matters. It is will. Rise, Alaric. You are more than this."
The words ignited something deep within him, a spark of defiance that refused to be extinguished. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself to his feet as the figure's blade came down.
Time seemed to slow.
Alaric sidestepped the strike, his movements fluid and precise. The hatchet felt light in his hand as he swung it upward, the blade catching the figure's arm. It let out an inhuman screech, its form flickering like a dying flame.
But it wasn't finished.
The figure lashed out, its blade slicing through the air. Alaric ducked, the motion instinctive, and drove the hatchet into its chest with all his strength. The figure froze, its glowing eyes flickering before it dissolved into ash, carried away by an unseen wind.
The desolate landscape faded, replaced by the chamber in the temple. Alaric collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving. The orb above the pedestal pulsed once, then shattered, its light flowing into him.
The warmth returned, stronger than ever. It spread through his veins, igniting every nerve in his body. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he felt weightless, as if the world had fallen away.
When the sensation faded, he opened his eyes to find the text hovering before him:
First Seal Broken.
Bloodline Awakening Stage 1 Unlocked.
Abilities Gained: Enhanced Reflexes, Minor Energy Manipulation.
Alaric stared at the words, his mind racing. He flexed his fingers, feeling the new strength coursing through him. The scars on his chest and arms had faded, replaced by faint golden lines that glowed softly in the dim light.
"You've taken your first step," the voice said, its tone almost… approving.
Alaric stood, his grip on the hatchet steady. "What happens now?"
"The world will take notice. The trials will only grow harder. But so will you."
He looked toward the temple's entrance, where the faint light of dawn was beginning to creep in. The villagers had cast him out, and the forest had tried to break him. But he was still standing.
For the first time, he felt ready for what lay ahead.