Here's the revised and expanded version of your text:
"Dig beneath it," the book had said.
He searched for it—days upon days, or so it felt. Time had lost meaning in this strange, unrelenting void.
At last, he found it: a cluster of rock craters, quite far from where he had met the old woman. The place felt ancient and forgotten, as though it had been buried under the weight of centuries.
One by one, he dug into the craters. His hands, though skeletal, worked tirelessly, scraping away dirt and debris bit by bit. As he labored, a question clawed at his mind: Why am I doing this? Why did I trust that old woman? Did she bewitch me, or is this simply instinct driving me forward?
He paused to catch his nonexistent breath, realizing something disturbing—he neither felt hunger nor exhaustion. Days of digging should have left him weak, but his body remained unnaturally steady. Fear gnawed at him.
Am I becoming a hollow? he thought, dread seeping into his core. His parents' bedtime stories resurfaced, tales of souls stripped of their humanity, endlessly wandering with no purpose. Was that his fate now?
After what felt like an eternity, his efforts bore fruit. Beneath the rubble, he uncovered a crumbling altar. Though the structure was broken, its symbols remained intact, etched deep into the stone. Intrigued and hesitant, he reached out to touch the carvings.
The moment his fingers brushed the surface, light erupted from the altar, enveloping him in a radiant glow.
A voice echoed in his mind, ancient and commanding:
"You have joined the Bond of Victory. For it is eternity. Your path will be hard, but you will prevail."
The words lingered, heavy and cryptic. He felt his chest tighten, an overwhelming sense of helplessness washing over him.
"This isn't what I wanted," he muttered, anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He had hoped for salvation, a way to escape this cursed world. Instead, it seemed like he'd traded one torment for another. Now, he was bound to something he neither understood nor desired.
Before he could dwell on his frustration, a sudden rumble shook the ground. From the air before him, a stone tablet materialized, hovering ominously. The surface was smooth, and glowing runes began to etch themselves into the stone as if by an unseen hand.
He read the inscription aloud, his voice wavering:
"For every foe you defeat, the tablet will grant you a reward. The higher the opponent's strength, the greater the reward."
His fingers clenched into fists as he stared at the tablet. Was this a blessing or another curse? The voice had promised eternity—victory without end—but at what cost? How many battles, how much blood, would it take to claim these so-called rewards?
Anger simmered in his chest. He thought back to the old woman, her knowing smile, her cryptic words. Did she set me up for this? Or is this my only way forward?
As the light from the altar dimmed, he stood in the oppressive silence, clutching the tablet tightly. Somewhere, in the void, he could feel it—an ominous presence stirring. His first foe awaited.
And so, his journey began.