The crystal shard dissolved into silver dust, swirling around Kael and seeping into his skin. For a moment, the chamber went silent then the air thrummed with unseen energy.
Kael gasped, clutching his chest as new sensations flooded his body. His heartbeat was a war drum. His senses sharpened, as if a thick veil had been torn from the world around him.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE.]
[WELCOME, HOST.]
The voice was neither cold nor mechanical. It resonated with a strange mix of weariness and ancient authority, as if it had waited for him across countless ages.
A translucent screen blinked into existence before his eyes:
Name: Kael Ardyn
Age: 18
Class: [Forsaken]
Level: 1
Health: 100/100
Stamina: 100/100
Mana: 120/120
Underneath, another line flickered:
Available Skills: 1
[Soulbrand]: Engrave the mark of the Forsaken onto yourself or others. Boosts strength and resilience temporarily.
Kael stared, breathless. This... this was a System. But unlike the Divine System, it didn't assign him a rigid path. It didn't shackle him to some predetermined fate.
It offered power. Raw. Unfiltered.
"Is this real?" he whispered.
The System answered not with words, but with a pulse of energy through his veins a silent, undeniable affirmation.
Kael's fists tightened. He could feel it a strength awakening, like a spark catching dry wood.
He was no longer nothing.
A slow, grim smile spread across his lips.
He was something the Divine System had tried to bury.
He was a mistake they would live to regret.
The ruins around him seemed less foreboding now, as if the very stones recognized him.
Kael spent hours exploring the underground chamber. Symbols from an ancient tongue were carved into the walls. Murals depicted forgotten gods proud beings with faces hidden under shattered masks, wielding weapons that could split mountains.
At the far end of the hall, he found an old, broken statue. It had no name, no title, but its posture one hand raised defiantly against a descending storm stirred something deep in Kael's chest.
At the base, half-buried in rubble, he uncovered a relic: a gauntlet made of blackened steel, etched with the same glyphs that swirled around the crystal earlier.
When he touched it, the System responded immediately.
[Forsaken Relic Detected: Gauntlet of the Lost Oath]
Effect: Enhances Soulbrand skill by 50%. Boosts physical attack by 10%.
Bound to Host.
Without hesitation, Kael slipped the gauntlet onto his right hand. It fit perfectly, as if waiting for him all this time.
He flexed his fingers. The metal was surprisingly light, and he could feel a low hum of power coursing through it.
His first weapon.
His first step forward.
Yet, he knew he couldn't stay here forever. The Divine City would not forget the shame he had brought upon their sacred ceremony. There would be consequences and soon.
Kael turned toward the shattered archway leading back into the Wastes.
It was time to move.
Night in the Wastes was merciless.
The cold bit into his skin, and the sky above was a black void sprinkled with indifferent stars. Strange sounds echoed in the distance howls, screeches, the grinding of stone against stone.
Kael kept moving.
He didn't know exactly where he was going, only that he needed distance from Solaria from the eyes that would be searching for him once they realized he hadn't simply disappeared.
Hours passed, maybe more.
He was about to collapse from exhaustion when a faint light flickered in the distance.
A campfire.
He crept closer, staying low, moving through the shattered ruins and dry grass. His instincts screamed caution.
Around the fire, three figures sat rough men clad in patchwork armor, their swords lying casually at their sides.
Mercenaries.
Kael recognized their type instantly. Hired blades. In Solaria, the guilds often paid them to deal with "problems" too messy for nobles to dirty their hands with.
One of the men a brute with a scar running from brow to chin was speaking.
"Heard they put a bounty on that failure from the Selection today," he said, spitting into the fire. "No system mark. Easy pickings."
The others laughed.
"Dead or alive?"
"Alive, if he's still breathing. They want to make an example."
Kael's blood ran cold.
They were already hunting him.
And he had stumbled right into their camp.
He could turn back. Run. But they would find him eventually. There would be others. Stronger. Faster.
He needed to fight.
He needed to awaken the power given to him.
Slowly, Kael stepped from the shadows into the firelight.
The mercenaries leapt to their feet, hands going to their weapons.
"Well, well," Scarface grinned. "The little stray dog wandered right to us."
Kael didn't answer. He raised his gauntleted hand.
"Soulbrand," he whispered.
Silver lines flared along his skin, weaving intricate patterns over his arm and chest. The gauntlet blazed with ghostly light.
The mercenaries hesitated.
Kael charged.
Scarface swung his sword a brutal arc meant to cleave Kael in half.
Kael ducked low, adrenaline sharpening his movements, and drove his fist into the man's gut. Enhanced by the Forsaken power, the blow sent Scarface crashing into the dirt, gasping for breath.
The second mercenary came at him with a dagger.
Kael caught his wrist mid-strike and twisted sharply. A wet snap echoed in the night, and the man screamed, dropping his weapon.
Kael didn't hesitate. He slammed the man's head into the ground, knocking him out cold.
The last mercenary younger, wide-eyed turned to flee.
Kael let him.
He needed one of them to carry the story back.
Let the world know.
The forsaken had risen.
Breathing heavily, Kael stood over the unconscious bodies. His body ached. His stamina bar flickered in the corner of his vision almost empty.
But he had won.
Alone.
Without a blessed class, without a noble house, without the Divine System.
Kael raised his gauntlet to the sky.
He was done being afraid.
Done being nothing.
This was just the beginning.