Lorien knelt in the dirt, his breath ragged as the last remnants of the vision faded from his mind. His fingers curled against the cold ground, trembling from the weight of what he had just seen.
A battlefield. A mountain of corpses.
A figure wreathed in darkness, wings stretching wide as though to smother the sky itself.
The First Sovereign.
The name clung to him like a curse, its presence heavy, suffocating. Even now, Lorien could still feel the echoes of that ancient power lingering in his veins.
[New Ability Acquired: Sovereign's Aegis – The abyss shields its own. Protect what is yours.]
He flexed his fingers, and the shadows curled in response. They slithered across his skin, weightless yet dense, their presence both comforting and foreign. He could feel them waiting, eager to be commanded.
This power—it wasn't his. Not yet.
But it would be.
Lorien rose to his feet. The ruins of his village stretched around him, eerily silent. The air was thick with the scent of burnt wood and blood, but the bodies…
They were gone.
His chest tightened. The system had said that once a trial was completed, the destruction it brought would be undone. But this wasn't a trial's doing. His family had died before the system had ever awakened within him.
And yet, there was no trace of them. No sign of their broken bodies.
It was as if they had never been here at all.
A cold realization settled in his bones.
Something—someone—had taken them.
Before he could dwell on the thought further, the system's presence stirred once more.
[Your next destination awaits.]
A map flashed before his eyes, overlaid upon his vision. A point marked in pulsing red appeared in the distance—deep within the forest beyond the village's outskirts.
[Directive: Seek the Forgotten Altar.]
Lorien's fingers twitched at his sides. He had no reason to trust this system, no understanding of what it truly was or why it had chosen him.
But he had nothing left.
No home. No family. No past to return to.
All he had was this power—this chaos whispering at the edges of his soul.
And if he had to become a monster to wield it, so be it.
Lorien turned toward the forest.
And walked into the unknown.
---
The air was different here.
The deeper Lorien ventured into the woods, the more unnatural everything became. The trees loomed taller, their gnarled branches twisting toward the sky like skeletal hands. The ground pulsed beneath his feet, as though something ancient slumbered beneath the soil.
But the worst part—the part that sent a chill crawling down his spine—was the silence.
No wind. No rustling leaves. No chirping insects or distant calls of animals.
Nothing.
It was a void. A place untouched by the natural order of the world.
And yet, the shadows that clung to Lorien's form stirred restlessly, reacting to something unseen.
He was close.
The pulsing red mark in his vision led him deeper still, until at last, he saw it—
A stone altar, half-buried beneath the twisted roots of an ancient tree. Its surface was cracked, weathered by time, but the inscriptions carved into it still pulsed faintly with an eerie, blue light.
Lorien took a cautious step forward.
The moment his foot touched the ground before it, a shudder rippled through the air. The world around him seemed to shift, the silence breaking as an unseen force stirred to life.
And then—
[System Alert: A Forgotten Will Awakens.]
A gust of wind howled through the trees. Lorien's body tensed as a figure began to materialize atop the altar—wisps of darkness coalescing into the shape of a man.
A pair of piercing, silver eyes locked onto him.
And for the first time since awakening to this power, Lorien felt truly small.
"Who… are you?" Lorien's voice was steady, but the weight pressing against his chest told him he already knew the answer.
The figure studied him in silence, the shadows around its form writhing like living things. When it finally spoke, its voice was deep, resonant, carrying the echoes of a thousand lost ages.
"You are not yet worthy to ask that question."
And then it moved.
Faster than sight.
A fist slammed into Lorien's gut, sending him flying backward. He barely had time to register the impact before crashing into the base of a tree, the force knocking the breath from his lungs.
Pain exploded through his ribs, but there was no time to recover. The figure was already upon him, a hand wrapping around his throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
"You wield chaos, yet you do not understand it," the voice continued, calm despite the overwhelming force it carried. "You let it whisper, but you do not yet listen."
Lorien's vision blurred at the edges. His hands clawed at the vice-like grip around his throat, but it was futile. The strength behind it was inhuman. Overwhelming.
The shadows around him flared in panic, but they did not obey.
They could not.
The figure's silver eyes burned into his soul.
"You are unworthy."
The grip tightened.
Lorien's lungs burned. His limbs grew heavy.
And in the back of his mind, the system stirred once more.
[New Trial Initiated: Face the Past.]
[Warning: Failure will result in complete soul annihilation.]
Lorien barely had time to process the words before the world shattered around him.
He wanted to scream, but he had no voice. No form.
He was falling.
Down, down, down—
Until suddenly, he wasn't.
His feet hit solid ground, and the world snapped back into focus.
Lorien staggered forward, gasping for breath. His body—his real body—felt intact. No broken ribs, no suffocating grip around his throat. But something was wrong.
The forest was gone.
Instead, he stood in the middle of a desolate battlefield.
The sky overhead was blood-red, the air thick with the acrid scent of fire and death. The earth beneath his feet was cracked and scorched, soaked with the remnants of countless battles.
And before him—
A lone figure stood amidst the carnage.
Tall. Wreathed in shadows. His back was turned, but Lorien recognized him instantly.
The First Sovereign.
The same man he had glimpsed in his last trial. The figure who had towered over a mountain of corpses, wings of darkness stretching endlessly behind him.
But now, he was still. Motionless.
Watching something in the distance.
Lorien swallowed hard.
The system had called this trial Face the Past.
But whose past?
His?
Or the First Sovereign's?
Cautiously, he stepped forward. The moment his foot touched the scorched earth, the world lurched.
Shadows twisted violently around him, pulling him forward against his will. A flash of darkness swallowed his vision—
And suddenly, he was no longer standing behind the First Sovereign.
He was standing in his place.
Lorien's breath caught in his throat. His hands-no, not his hands clenched at his sides, powerful, veined, and covered in a gauntlet of dark metal. He could feel the weight of the armor on his body, the cold steel pressing against his skin.
And in front of him—
A city burned.
Its walls crumbled, flames devouring the homes, the temples, the people. Screams echoed through the air, but they barely registered.
Because at the center of the carnage, kneeling before him, was a man.
Not a soldier.
Not a warrior.
A king.
Blood dripped from his lips as he looked up, his golden eyes filled with defiance. His robes were torn, his crown shattered at his feet.
Lorien didn't recognize him.
But the body he was in—
The First Sovereign—
Did.
A name surfaced in his mind, unbidden.
"Azemir," he heard himself say. His own voice, yet not his own. Deeper. Heavier. Ancient.
The kneeling king—Azemir—laughed weakly. "So you remember me after all."
Lorien's pulse pounded in his ears. His body—the First Sovereign's body—did not move. Did not react.
But the chaos inside him did.
It surged, shifting like a living thing, hungry and restless. Waiting for a command.
Azemir's golden eyes darkened. "Do it."
Lorien's breath hitched.
Do what?
The king's lips curled into a bitter smile. "End this."
The chaos inside Lorien coiled tighter. His right hand lifted—
A blade of pure darkness forming in his grasp.
"No," Lorien whispered, struggling against the motion. He tried to stop, tried to resist, but his body—the First Sovereign's body—moved without his will.
The blade plunged forward.
Azemir gasped, blood spilling from his lips. His golden eyes flickered with pain—
Then, something else.
Relief.
As if he had been waiting for this.
The chaos surged forward, consuming the king whole. His body crumbled into nothingness, devoured by the abyss.
And then—
The world shattered.
Lorien gasped as he was yanked back into his own body, collapsing onto the altar's cold stone. His chest heaved, his heart slamming against his ribs.
The First Sovereign's voice echoed in his skull.
"Now you understand."
The system's notification flickered into his vision.
[Trial Complete.]
[Memory Fragment Unlocked.]
A fresh wave of pain seared through his mind, another vision forcing itself upon him—
A golden palace. A war council.
Azemir, standing at the head of a table, his golden eyes filled with determination.
And across from him—
The First Sovereign.
Not enemies.
Not yet.
But something was wrong. The tension in the air was thick, unspoken words hanging between them.
Then, Azemir's voice.
"You cannot control it forever."
The vision blurred, distorting. Lorien caught glimpses of battle, betrayal, an unspoken promise—
And then, darkness.
The memory ended.
Lorien gritted his teeth, his head pounding.
He had thought this trial was about testing his strength.
But no.
It was something else entirely.
A warning.
The chaos inside him—this Sovereign's power—
It had consumed the First Sovereign.
And if he wasn't careful…
It would consume him, too.
---End of chapter 2---