The ruins were unusual—fragments of landmass lay scattered around them, like fallen islands. Overgrown with vegetation, their sheer size still made them visible through the tangled wilderness. The cracked remains of stone pathways peeked through the undergrowth, leading to what must have once been grand structures, now claimed by time.
Before setting up camp, we conducted a quick sweep to ensure the area was safe. No signs of bandits or beasts—only silence, the kind that felt too deep, as if the world itself had forgotten this place. We pitched our tents near a crumbling stone monument, its carvings eroded beyond recognition.
Five researchers accompanied us, each wearing a hat with a stitched feather—their symbol. I found their mission to revive an ancient civilization pointless, but their dedication was… admirable, in its own way. I already knew much of what had happened before, but I doubted they would believe me if I told them.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, we gathered around the campfire. The flames flickered, casting long shadows across the ruins. The researchers spoke in hushed voices, already lost in theories and speculation. Arwik stood apart in the darkness, his silhouette barely visible against the night, his sword flashing in the firelight. He had been training relentlessly these past months, his hunger for power growing sharper by the day. It was almost unsettling.
Dinner was dry rations and cold water—nothing remarkable, but enough. Above us, the night sky stretched vast and endless, stars shimmering like an infinite tapestry woven into the darkness.
Lying in our bedrolls, the girl beside me, I gazed at the sky. Over the past six months, we had grown closer. I knew full well that peace was fleeting in this world, that any effort to preserve it was ultimately futile… but still, I tried to enjoy it.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then, her voice broke the silence.
"You know… ever since I met you, I've had a lot of fun."
I turned my head slightly, glancing at her.
"Yeah… same for me."
A pause. The fire crackled softly in the distance.
She inhaled slowly, as if weighing her words.
"...You remind me a lot of my brother."
Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.
"I was really close to him."
She exhaled.
"He was distant, but he cared. I remember once, he came back from the forest all battered up… bruised, bleeding. I was just a kid, so I panicked. I kept asking him what happened, but he just smiled and said, 'Don't worry, I won.'"
She let out a breath—something between a chuckle and a sigh.
"That was the last time I saw him."
Her words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.
"…He never came back?"
I asked.
She shook her head.
"No one ever told me what happened. One day, he was there. The next, he wasn't."
Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her bedroll.
"For a long time, I thought… maybe he was still out there. Maybe he just got lost, or he couldn't come home. I used to dream about it—him walking through that door again, acting like nothing happened."
Another pause. The wind rustled softly through the trees.
"But dreams are just that. Dreams."
Her voice was steady, but I could hear the weight beneath it—the quiet, lingering ache that never really faded.
"…I'm sorry,"
I said. It felt like an empty thing to say, but it was all I had.
She exhaled, shaking her head.
"It's fine. I don't think about it as much anymore."
She turned her head slightly, meeting my gaze.
"Still… sometimes, when I see you fight, when you get hurt and just keep going… you remind me of him."
I didn't know what to say to that.
After a moment, she smirked faintly.
"Maybe that's why I stuck around…"
The conversation drifted into silence. She shifted, resting on her side, her back turned to me.
"…Goodnight, veyr,"
She murmured.
I stared at the sky a little longer before closing my eyes.
"Goodnight."
The fire crackled. The ruins loomed, half-swallowed by the night. And in the vast emptiness of the sky, the stars burned on—unmoving, unchanged.
For now, the world was quiet.
For now, we slept.
The next morning, the researchers began their study, overturning every stone, tracing the contours of every remaining wall, searching for… something.
Patrolling the ruins had been uneventful. The researchers muttered among themselves, carefully brushing away dirt and rubble, while the girl kept watch from a nearby ledge. Arwik had wandered off a while ago, saying something about needing to clear his head. I didn't think much of it—until the ground shook.
A low, rumbling boom echoed from the depths of the ruins. Birds scattered from the treetops. Even the researchers froze, their excitement turning to unease.
The girl was the first to react, standing quickly.
"…What the hell was that?"
I didn't answer. I was already moving.
Arwik stumbled back into camp moments later, breathless. His clothes were covered in dust, a few fresh scrapes lining his arms. But what caught my eye was the thing in his hands—an orb.
It wasn't just any artifact. It looked almost liquid, its surface shifting like the ripples of a black ocean. The air around it felt heavier, charged, like the moment before a storm.
One of the researchers gasped.
"This… this matches the descriptions we have of the essence of dead gods."
And that's when I recognized it. That's why it seemed familiar.
Shit.
"Where did you find that?"
I asked, keeping my voice low.
Arwik grinned, still catching his breath.
"In some kind of container. Neat, right?"
Then, the air split.
A massive sword came crashing down toward the researchers.
I moved on instinct, throwing myself between them and the blade. I wasn't fast enough—the sheer force of the strike tore through my flesh, carving from my shoulder to my hip.
The researchers froze in terror.
"Run!"
I coughed, blood splattering the ground.
Beyond the great sword, a dark figure loomed. Torn cloth and mismatched armor draped its body, its presence an unnatural weight upon the air.
It lifted its sword again—far too fast for its size. I barely rolled away before the blade cleaved the earth where I had stood. My wounds knit themselves back together, a slow, agonizing process.
Arwik charged at the figure, but with a single motion, he was thrown violently to the ground.
The figure dashed forward—not toward us, but toward the researchers. No… toward the orb.
The girl reacted first, hurling her dagger. The figure twisted, deflecting it with unnatural precision.
"Pests,"
It muttered.
Its focus shifted. No longer interested in the orb, it was fully intent on killing us.
"This is a losing fight,"
I realized. Blocking was impossible—the strikes were too powerful. Dodging was barely an option.
Arwik screamed, "What the hell is that thing?!"
I didn't have time to answer.
It lunged at the girl.
I moved without thinking, throwing myself between them. The sword drove through me, impaling me to the ground.
She screamed. I couldn't make out the words.
Through the burning agony, I tried to strike back, but my blade fell short. The figure wrenched its sword free.
"You won't go down that easily, will you?"
It muttered.
The blade came crashing down again.
And again.
And again.
Bones shattered. Flesh tore. Wounds closed—only to be ripped apart once more. My body was caught in a cycle of pain, an agony beyond endurance.
I heard my comrades shouting. Screaming.
Then, Arwik's sword flashed overhead.
A splash of blood.
Arwik fell to his knees, gripping the fresh wound slashed across his face.
The researchers weren't far. They must have known they couldn't outrun the dark figure. One of them, in a moment of desperation, threw the orb toward us.
Maybe they had realized what the dark figure was truly after.
Maybe they wanted us to use it.
Either way, this was bad.
Arwik, his face slick with blood, ran toward the orb.
"NO!!!"
I screamed, my voice strangled by the blood in my throat.
If he used it, it wouldn't just destroy his mind. It would destroy all of us.
He skidded to a stop, inches from the swirling black sphere. His breath was ragged, his body trembling—not from exhaustion, but from something else. He reached out, fingers hovering just above the surface, and for a moment, he hesitated.
Even he could feel it now.
The weight in the air. The sickening pull, like gravity itself had shifted around the orb.
A low, distorted whisper seeped into the air, though the words were lost to the wind. The researchers staggered back. The girl swore under her breath, her grip tightening around her weapon.
Arwik's fingers curled.
He knew this was dangerous.
I could see it in his eyes—that flicker of doubt, the faintest instinct telling him to stop.
But then the dark figure took a step forward, sword in hand.
Arwik's hesitation shattered.
His hand clenched around the orb.
A sharp, splitting crack rang through the ruins—not from the ground, not from the sky, but from reality itself. The air ripped open around him, distorting like a heat mirage. A pulse of orange energy surged through his arm, sinking into his flesh, into his veins, deeper—into something beneath flesh.
He had absorbed the essence of a dead god.