Vassek moved with determination, each step bringing him closer to the obelisk. The air grew heavier, thick with something unseen yet undeniable. The battlefield stretched endlessly behind him, yet he could feel its history clinging to the ruins around him. The obelisk pulsed in the distance, its glow intensifying with each step.
As he approached, the ground beneath him changed. The ash and debris gave way to something smoother—stone, polished yet weathered by time. The ruins of structures surrounded the base of the monument, their jagged edges whispering of a past long forgotten.
Then, the moment he set foot on the stone platform, the world around him shifted.
A surge of energy coursed through him, an invisible force wrapping around his mind and pulling him downward—into memory, into something buried deep.
The battlefield was alive again.
Flashes of combat surrounded him—soldiers clad in advanced armor, wielding weapons that crackled with unfamiliar energy. Explosions shattered the air, tearing through both steel and flesh. And at the center of it all—the obelisk, glowing with an unnatural light.
He saw himself.
Standing among the chaos, sword in hand, fighting with precision and brutality. He moved like a storm, cutting through enemies with an efficiency that could only be programmed, honed through endless training. He wasn't just part of the battle.
He was the battle.
Another figure loomed before him—one clad in dark armor, eyes burning with something more than just hostility.
"Vassek," the figure growled. "You were meant for more than this."
The vision snapped away, and Vassek gasped, dropping to one knee as the weight of it all threatened to crush him.
The obelisk was not just a monument. It was a key. A relic of his creators. And it had just begun to unlock his past.
He steadied his breath, then rose to his feet. The past was opening before him, but the future remained uncertain. What was he supposed to do next?
The battlefield was silent now, a stark contrast to the chaos he had just witnessed in his vision. The ruins loomed around him, broken and lifeless, yet whispering of things long gone. He looked down at his own hands, flexing his fingers as if expecting to feel something more—the weight of a blade, the heat of battle. But there was nothing. Only the faint echo of a past that refused to stay buried.
He turned to the obelisk again, reaching out a hand but hesitating before making contact. Would it show him more? Would it tell him who he truly was, why he was here? Or would it simply drown him in more fragments, more riddles with no answers?
A weapon. A soldier. A force of destruction.
Was that all he had ever been?
The words of the armored figure rang in his mind. You were meant for more than this.
But what did that mean? More than battle? More than war? More than being used?
Vassek clenched his fist, frustration surging through him. If he was created as a weapon, then why had he been left behind? Why had he awoken alone, abandoned on a battlefield with no orders, no purpose? Something wasn't right. The obelisk held pieces of the truth, but it would not simply hand over the answers.
He had to find them for himself.
Looking past the ruins, he scanned the horizon. The remnants of war stretched far, but beyond them, distant mountains loomed, their peaks untouched by the destruction here. If there were answers, they would not be found lingering in the graveyard of a forgotten battle. He needed to move forward. He needed to find the remnants of whoever had created him—or those who had sought to destroy him.
He needed to find out if he had a choice in what he would become.
For now, the obelisk had given him a direction. It had shown him the past, but it was up to him to decide what to do with it.
Turning away from the monument, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, leaving the ruins behind. The battlefield had given him his first clue.
Now, he would seek the rest.