A sky drenched in fire. Screams swallowed by the howling winds. The scent of burning flesh and soil, mingling into an unbearable stench.
Lorien stumbled forward, vision blurred by smoke and blood—his own or another's, he couldn't tell. His village, once filled with warmth and quiet laughter, was now a ruin. Ash drifted like snowflakes, settling upon lifeless bodies strewn across the ground. The houses—simple, wooden, built with hands that had known only peace—had been reduced to charred skeletons.
And amidst it all, figures clad in obsidian armor, their eyes gleaming with malice, walked through the destruction they had wrought.
The Demon King's soldiers.
Lorien's breath came in ragged gasps as he pressed a trembling hand to his side. Warm blood seeped between his fingers, the deep gash cutting through flesh and muscle. The pain was distant, dulled by the horror before him. His people—his family—were dead.
His mother's body lay nearby, her once-gentle face twisted in agony, her arms still reaching for him. His father, the man who had taught him how to hunt and carve wood, was nothing more than a heap of flesh and shattered bone.
They had died trying to protect him.
A boot slammed against his back, sending him sprawling into the dirt. A cruel laugh echoed above him.
"Still breathing, are we?"
Lorien coughed, dirt and blood spilling from his lips. He tried to rise, but another kick sent him crashing back down.
"He's barely worth killing," another voice sneered. "No magic, no strength. Just a weak little rat clinging to life."
The first soldier crouched, gripping Lorien's hair and forcing his head up. "But orders are orders." A blade was drawn, its steel reflecting the flames that consumed his home. "The Demon King doesn't leave loose ends."
Lorien stared at his own reflection in the sword's polished surface. His face was hollow, drained of all hope. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe he should just—
[Initiating…]
A soundless voice echoed in his mind, cold and absolute. A wave of nausea struck him, his thoughts scattering as foreign energy surged through his veins.
[System awakening: Complete.]
Lorien's body tensed. His muscles burned, his vision flashed white, and suddenly—
Darkness.
A weightless abyss, infinite and crushing. Voices—whispers slithering through his mind, words he couldn't understand. A presence loomed, vast and unknowable. It stared at him without eyes, its voice seeping into his soul.
"You are not ready."
The world snapped back into place.
Lorien gasped as air flooded his lungs. The soldier's blade had stopped an inch from his throat, his attacker frozen mid-motion, his eyes wide with terror.
"What the—?!"
A shadow coiled around Lorien's fingers. It pulsed—no, it breathed. Cold, ancient, alive. It slithered up his arm, wrapping around his wounds, sealing them with unnatural ease.
[Authority recognized.]
[You have inherited the Sovereign's Legacy.]
[New Ability Acquired: Sovereign's Grasp – The chaos within you bends to your will. Reach into the unknown. Control the formless.]
The soldier scrambled back, his voice a strangled whisper. "W-what is this?!"
Lorien didn't know. But the thing—this power—answered his unspoken command.
His fingers tightened.
The shadow shot forward, twisting through the air like a living serpent. It latched onto the soldier's throat, tendrils digging into his flesh. The man convulsed, his screams gurgling into silence as the darkness swallowed him whole.
The other soldiers hesitated.
Lorien rose to his feet. The pain was gone. The exhaustion had vanished. All that remained was the cold, crawling awareness of something deep within him—something that had been awakened.
His fingers twitched. The shadows obeyed.
The soldiers ran.
Lorien stood amidst the ruin of his past, his breath steady, his gaze unfocused. His home was gone. His family was dead.
And inside him, something vast and ancient stirred.
A new message flashed before his eyes.
[Your first trial will begin soon.]
A warning.
Lorien exhaled. He would no longer run.
If this power had chosen him, then he would wield it.
And he would make them pay.
The night stretched endlessly above him, the distant stars blurred by the smoke that still curled from the ruins of his village. Lorien stood in the silence, his hands trembling as remnants of the dark energy coiled around his fingers before dissolving into nothingness. The shadows had obeyed him.
The soldiers… had feared him.
[Your first trial will begin soon.]
The system's warning echoed in his mind, its cold detachment in stark contrast to the weight of everything he had just lost. His mother's outstretched hand. His father's unseeing eyes. The laughter of his people, now silenced forever.
Lorien clenched his fists.
What trial? What more could this cruel world take from him?
[One minute until trial commencement.]
His breath hitched. His body, though no longer wounded, still felt the echoes of pain. The power within him was foreign, untested. And now—so soon—he would have to fight again?
The ground trembled beneath his feet. The very air seemed to shudder as an unnatural cold spread through the ruins.
Lorien's pulse quickened. This wasn't normal.
Then, the system's cryptic message arrived.
[The forgotten past rises from the ashes. The weight of your sins will be measured. A soul unanchored must not forget its roots.]
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
And then—
A voice.
Soft. Familiar.
"Lorien."
He turned, his heart lurching violently in his chest. His mother stood before him.
Alive.
Her face was unmarred, her eyes full of warmth. The scent of wildflowers clung to her, just as it always had when she used to gather herbs outside the village.
Lorien staggered forward, reaching for her before reason could catch up to him. "M-Mother…?"
She smiled. A smile that had once been a source of comfort. A smile that now sent ice flooding through his veins.
Because her feet weren't touching the ground.
Because her shadow was missing.
Because her smile—so warm, so familiar—didn't reach her eyes.
A deep, suffocating dread clawed at his throat. "You—You're not real."
His mother tilted her head. "Does that matter?"
And then she lunged.
Lorien barely had time to react. Shadows surged around him, responding to his panicked instinct. They caught her mid-air, tendrils wrapping around her wrists like shackles.
She didn't struggle.
Instead, she simply looked at him.
"You hesitate," she said softly. "Why?"
His chest heaved.
Because it was her.
Because it felt like her.
Even if he knew—knew—that it wasn't.
[Your trial has begun.]
[Judgment Phase: Can you sever the past?]
The shadows trembled, awaiting his command. But his fingers wouldn't close. His breath came too fast, too shallow.
The system was testing him.
A test of resolve.
A test of his will.
"Lorien," she whispered again. "Are you going to kill your mother?"
His hands shook violently.
This wasn't real. It wasn't real.
Then why did it feel like he was suffocating?
She took a step closer. The shadows let her. Lorien could see his own face reflected in her eyes—lost, conflicted. Weak.
His hesitation had cost him before. It had cost him everything.
Not again.
His jaw clenched. The shadows pulsed, responding to his decision.
The next time she spoke, it wasn't his mother's voice anymore.
"Good," she rasped, as her form melted into darkness. "You're learning."
[Trial complete.]
[Memory fragment unlocked.]
A sharp pain lanced through his skull. Lorien gritted his teeth as a vision forced itself into his mind—
A vast battlefield. A lone figure standing atop a mountain of corpses.
Blackened wings unfurled, casting an endless shadow over the land.
And a name.
Not his own.
The First Sovereign.
The vision shattered. Lorien collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving. The system's text flickered in his mind's eye.
[New Ability Acquired: Sovereign's Aegis – The abyss shields its own. Protect what is yours.]
Lorien exhaled slowly. His mother was gone. The trial was over.
But the war had only just begun.
---End of Chapter 1---