The ten rings—myths, forces, curses—call them what you will, but they shape the bones of this world.
They are: The Brutal Emblem, Eidolon Coil, Hellrend Crest, Crucified Sovereign, Cataclysm Sigil, Liminal Wreath...
...and the rest? Shrouded in secrets so deep not even the oldest gods whisper their names.
But then there's the final one. The forbidden one. The Ring of the Hollow Expanse—known only to a few by its grim nickname: The Desolate Lands. It doesn't exist in a conventional sense. It sleeps. Watches. Waits. Its master, they say, has yet to rise. Rumors brand it a lie. A myth. A danger too terrible to awaken.
And yet…
Nothing about its silence feels coincidental anymore.
Has someone stumbled into it and triggered something? Called out from inside the void? I keep spiraling into questions. The kind of questions that never stop once you ask one.
Maybe it wasn't a person. Maybe it was an energy—a power—great enough to challenge the authority of the divine and beckon the Trial of Gods to crack open.
…Or maybe the ring stirs.
As I continue through the barren lands, the thoughts claw at my focus. How could anyone find their way here? The gods forbade it. That alone should've kept the place sealed tight. The system ensures that kind of law.
Unless… you're like me. Born outside of it.
Systemless.
The landscape changes. I approach a jagged mountain, low but steep. I climb. I drop down its other side, and that's when I spot it—A cave.
A mouth in the stone that shouldn't be there. Not unless it's a ruin. Or a dungeon. But those only appear around awakened rings. And this one?
This one has never stirred.
Still, my feet move forward, dread clinging to every step. The air thickens—cloying, suffocating. My non-existent stomach twists in nausea, but I can't turn away. My mind screams to leave. But my legs betray me.
I enter.
Inside, red light pulses softly, casting flickering shadows along damp, jagged walls. Water drips from the ceiling in a slow, steady rhythm. The stone beneath me slick and treacherous. It looks like any other cave—on the surface.
But the closer I get to the crimson glow, the tighter the unease coils around me. A tunnel narrows into a long corridor, ending in a sudden drop. A sheer slope designed for mortals to slide. But I don't fall. I hover, drifting down in silence.
And then—White.
A blinding, sterile void consumes my vision. It takes seconds for my eyes to adjust. And when they do, I freeze.
Floating midair—suspended by thick black chains—is a skeletal figure. Bone spikes erupt from its spine like spears. A strange sigil pulses beneath it, etched into the white floor like a living scar.
Time halts. My thoughts crash against each other.
Was I lured here by something? Or someone? This doesn't feel accidental.
"Is this… a god?" I whisper, staring at the chained skeleton, questions stacking higher than answers.
I glance behind me—no entrance. No exit. Just blank white walls. A prison disguised as divinity. I turn and try to phase through it, as I usually can.
Nothing.
I try again. And again. Each attempt? Failure.
Panic flares. My breathing comes in sharp, useless gasps.
Then—
"I see… Rats always find cracks to crawl through," a voice says, smooth like honey but laced with venom.
I spin around.
He's above me.
A god.
Six wings stretch out behind him, grand and fluid, like they're part of the air itself. His form shimmers, barely real, draped in a veil of starlight and flame. Above his head, two halos drift—glowing, pulsing with divine energy.
It isn't a beast. It isn't a phantom.
It's Vitalis—the god of life. The keeper of this world.
One of the oldest. One of the cruelest.
His eyes bore into me. Not with rage. But with apathy.
"You've seen what mortals were never meant to. You've trespassed on truths designed for gods alone." His voice echoes, soft yet devastating. "You are less than an error—an accident of existence. You are… an anomaly."
His gaze alone splits something in me.
I don't belong here.
But what if I do?
"What is this place?" I demand, but my voice quivers. "Why bring me here? Is that skeleton a god? Was this all a trick?"
Vitalis's expression turns to scorn. His wings twitch, feathers sharp like blades.
"Creatures like you—systemless, soulless, broken—have no right to ask."
A blade forms above me. No. Not a blade.
A sword of judgment.
Pristine. Towering. Composed entirely of pure, divine light. Its heat is suffocating. Its presence eclipses mine.
"You will be erased," Vitalis says, and his tone is final. "Oblivion suits you better than relevance."
"No!" I cry, eyes widening. "I'm not just an anomaly—I'm someone! I want to matter!" My voice cracks under the weight of my own desperation. "This world—just let me exist! I'll prove it! I'll show you all!"
The sword falls.
And I scream.
Is it truly a sin… to ask for more? To long for love?To wish for a world where I could simply live?
Where I wasn't an error?
Where I wasn't this?
I brace as the blade comes inches from my face—then—
Clash!
Two colors explode—white and red, divine and corrupted—sparks shattering across the air like fireworks of war.
And then—I hear it.
A robotic voice.