The Silent Peaks rose before Alaric like jagged teeth, their snow-dusted slopes cutting into the gray sky. The air was thin and sharp, each breath scraping against his lungs. The climb had been grueling, the path treacherous, but he was finally here.
The Oracle waited somewhere among these peaks. And so did answers.
The journey up the mountains was eerily quiet. The wind howled through the narrow passes, but beyond that, there was nothing—no rustle of leaves, no distant cries of animals. It was as though the peaks lived up to their name, swallowing all sound.
Alaric's steps were deliberate, his body straining against the cold. The golden lines on his arms pulsed faintly, their warmth fighting back the chill. He felt stronger than before, but the weight of the journey was still taking its toll.
By midday, he reached a plateau, its surface littered with broken statues and crumbling pillars. They were ancient, their stone faces worn smooth by time, but the faint traces of glyphs on their surfaces made his skin prickle.
"This place feels… wrong," he muttered.
"The peaks are sacred," the voice replied. "They were once a sanctuary for those like you. But they have been corrupted."
"Corrupted by what?"
"By him."
The words sent a chill down his spine. Alaric tightened his grip on the hatchet, his eyes scanning the plateau for any sign of danger. The air felt heavier here, thick with a presence he couldn't see but could feel pressing down on him.
Then the ground beneath him trembled.
The harbinger that emerged from the shadows was unlike any he had faced before. It was massive, its skeletal frame covered in jagged, obsidian-like armor. Its glowing eyes burned with an intensity that made Alaric's chest tighten.
"Unawakened," it rasped, its voice echoing like thunder. "You are unworthy of this place."
Alaric raised the hatchet, his golden scars flaring to life. "You're going to have to do better than that."
The creature lunged, faster than its size should have allowed. Alaric barely dodged the first strike, the harbinger's clawed hand slamming into the ground and leaving a crater in its wake. He countered with a pulse of energy, the golden light slamming into the creature's chest and staggering it back.
But it recovered quickly, its armor absorbing most of the impact. It charged again, its movements relentless. Alaric danced around its strikes, his reflexive barrier deflecting the worst of the blows, but the sheer force behind each attack was wearing him down.
"You've fought bigger things than this," he muttered to himself, his breath coming in short gasps. "Keep moving."
The fight was brutal, each clash of weapons sending shockwaves through the plateau. Alaric's energy pulses left cracks in the harbinger's armor, but it wasn't enough. The creature's strength seemed endless, and his own energy was rapidly depleting.
"Focus," the voice commanded. "There is more within you. Use it."
Alaric gritted his teeth, channeling the last of his strength into a single, powerful strike. The hatchet glowed brighter than ever, its blade cutting through the air like a comet. It struck the harbinger's chest, shattering its armor and piercing its core.
The creature let out a deafening roar, its body convulsing before dissolving into ash. Alaric collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving as the golden light around him dimmed.
The text appeared before him:
Encounter Complete.
Abilities Enhanced: Energy Surge, Critical Strike.
"Great," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "Now I just need to survive the next one."
The Oracle's temple was hidden at the peak of the mountain, its entrance marked by a massive stone archway covered in glowing runes. Alaric hesitated at the threshold, the weight of the place pressing down on him.
"You've come this far," he muttered to himself. "No turning back now."
He stepped inside, the temperature dropping instantly. The temple was dark, its walls covered in glyphs that pulsed faintly with light. At the center of the chamber stood a figure cloaked in white, its face obscured by a veil of silver threads.
"Oracle," Alaric said, his voice steady despite the unease coiling in his chest.
The figure turned to him, its movements slow and deliberate. When it spoke, its voice was layered, as though multiple beings were speaking in unison. "You carry the blood of gods, and yet you come here as a seeker. What is it you wish to know, Alaric of the Unawakened?"
He swallowed hard, the questions tumbling over each other in his mind. "What is the master? Why is he hunting me? What am I supposed to do?"
The Oracle was silent for a moment, its veiled face tilting as if studying him. "The master is a being of ancient power, one who seeks to consume all that remains of the divine bloodlines. He fears you because you are the last, the one who can undo his dominion."
"Why me?" Alaric asked, his voice trembling. "Why is it always me?"
"Because your bloodline was chosen," the Oracle replied. "You carry within you the power to reshape this world. But power alone is not enough. You must learn to wield it, or it will destroy you."
Alaric clenched his fists. "Then teach me."
The Oracle stepped closer, its hand reaching out to hover above his chest. The golden lines on his arms flared, their light filling the chamber.
"You are not ready for the truth," the Oracle said. "But I can show you a glimpse."
Before Alaric could respond, his vision blurred. Images flooded his mind—a throne of light, a world consumed by darkness, a figure standing alone against an army of shadows. He saw himself, older and stronger, his body glowing with divine energy as he faced the master in a final, desperate battle.
When the vision faded, he collapsed, his body trembling.
"The path will be long," the Oracle said. "But you have taken the first steps. The rest is up to you."
The Oracle's words echoed in Alaric's mind as he descended the mountain. The vision had shaken him, but it had also strengthened his resolve. He didn't know how he would face the master or what the future held, but he knew one thing:
He wouldn't stop. Not now. Not ever.