Zhen Hu stood alone in the middle of the devastated city, his thoughts as scattered as the ruins around him. The clash with the cultists had been brutal, a trial that pushed him to the edge of his abilities. The air around him was thick with the stench of death and decay—an echo of the power he had unleashed. But it wasn't just his Nytherion energy that had left its mark on the battlefield. Something deeper had stirred within him, something ancient.
His hand clenched into a fist, the feeling of power still resonating within his veins. Every inch of his body felt alive with potential, yet the dark weight of that same power threatened to drown him. He could feel it, that unshakable pull—an invitation to go further, to tap into something greater.
But he knew better than to follow that pull too blindly. Not yet.
The trial was far from over. His purpose had never been clearer: he had come to the city with a mission. Uncover the truth behind the corruption of the Humanios and its ties to the dark cults threatening the land. His enemies, hidden in the shadows, had yet to be exposed. And the force that called him, tempting him with the promise of unimaginable power, was still only a whisper.
He had not forgotten his original path. Power wasn't everything. At least, not yet. It was just a tool. He had to understand why it had been granted to him before he could truly wield it.
As he walked through the desolate streets, his mind wandered back to his earlier encounter with the shadowy figure who had crossed his path. It was clear now that there was more at play here than just a simple rebellion against authority. The cultists had been puppets, dancing to the tune of an unknown force. That force, however, seemed to be pulling him closer—drawing him toward some greater purpose. It was not Nytherion alone that called to him. There was something older, buried deep within his heritage. A legacy he had yet to fully understand.
As he made his way to the heart of the ruined city, he came across an old shrine—a place where the ancient ones had once worshiped. The shrine stood abandoned, crumbling under the weight of time, but something about it caught Zhen Hu's attention. An unsettling presence lingered in the air.
He stepped forward, the ground beneath his feet shifting with each step. A single stone slab lay before the entrance, half-buried beneath the rubble. He knelt down, brushing the dust away to reveal an inscription—ancient symbols he didn't fully recognize, yet somehow understood.
A surge of energy pulsed through him. It was fleeting but unmistakable—an echo of something he had yet to remember. This was the beginning. This shrine, these ruins—they were tied to his bloodline, to his fate as the Gravewalker. The connection was undeniable.
He placed a hand on the stone, and for a brief moment, the ground beneath him trembled. The stone slab shifted slightly, revealing a deeper darkness. Yet, Zhen Hu hesitated. The call for power was still there, strong and unyielding, but he wasn't ready. Not yet.
Zhen Hu stood and backed away from the shrine, his heart heavy with a new understanding. The blood sword, his ultimate weapon, was still a distant part of his future—a piece of the puzzle yet to be unlocked. But for now, the path ahead was clear.
He had to continue on his mission, uncover the truth behind the Humanios and their cult, and stop the looming threat from engulfing the land. The sword, when it came, would be a part of that path. But only when he was truly ready to wield its power.
As he turned to leave the shrine, a faint voice whispered on the wind—a promise of what was to come, of the power that awaited him when the time was right. But it wasn't yet. He would find his own way.