Today, Konrad wasn't in the throne room of the Bright Castle, nor was he leading hunting parties into the monster-infested ruins of the Dark City. He was far from the safety of those ancient walls, deep in the hostile heart of the crimson labyrinth. He was alone, on an expedition that carried more weight than any battle and only he could do this and come back alive.
It was the winter solstice.
Tonight, hundreds of new souls—unfortunate, weak, desperate—would be thrown into the nightmare that was the Forgotten Shore. Some would awaken screaming, drowning in the dark sea under the starless sky of this region, their first breath drawn in a world of monsters.
Most would die within hours, devoured by horrors of deep depths or drown in the dark sea, unable to find any high ground in the dark. Some would survive the night. But get lost in endless corridors of coral or killed by some awakened nightmare creature. Few would die from starvation and dehydration.
Only a very precious few, the lucky or the strong, would claw their way toward the only human bastion in cursed wasteland— toward the Dark City.
They would reinforce the dwindling numbers of humans in the dark city. Currently There are only less than seven hundred sleepers in total alive, in the dark city, even the Forgotten Shore as a whole.
Konrad's mission was simple: save as many of the strong and talented ones as he could. He had departed from the Bright Castle two days ago with a single goal—find potential before it was extinguished.
The plan was brutal in its simplicity. He scouted every high ground, every notable landmark within a hundred-kilometer radius of the dark city. For each place, he carved messages into the coral stone. Simple messages: arrows pointing toward the Dark City, the word "safety" etched in bold strokes, the direction marked clearly. These signs would be a lifeline for those with the sense to follow them.
He left no food, no fire. Only knowledge. Only a faint hope. But that is the important thing in this land drowning in darkness and teaming with horrors.
If they couldn't survive long enough to read it, then they weren't worth saving. They weren't meant to live. It is their destiny to die in this cursed place.
As the grey sun began to set, the red sky bleeding into blackness, Konrad took shelter atop a coral spire that jutted like a spear into the sky. From its summit, he had a panoramic view of the desolate expanse. The crimson labyrinth twisted beneath him, a sprawling web of living coral, monstrous remains, and ancient decay.
And beyond it… the sea. The Dark Sea, eternal and watching. As the sun fell, it surged forward like a black tide, swallowing the land, burying the twisted corridors beneath its shifting waters. It never failed to awe him. Not in its beauty—but in its hatred. The sea was not a thing of nature. It was a will, a malevolent, hostile, unforgivening will. It is full of malice. It is a judgment. A reminder that this world was not benign, and never would be.
He sat silently and stared into the starless sky.
While looking at the starless sky of the Forgotten Shore, Konrad strangely felt melancholic.
Tonight marked one year.
One year since he had arrived in this nightmare. One year since he'd awoken cold, alone, and terrified in the Underworld.
A normal person, reborn in a body not his own, alone, naked and afraid in the lair of ancient horrors where only their gaze could erase his existence. He is forced to become something else.
He remembered that fear—how it had choked him, how he had wanted to scream. He didn't scream. He trained. He fought. He survived.
Now, a year later, he was no longer that naive boy.
He was stronger. Sharper. Colder. Crueller. Braver. Sinister.
He had slain Fallen nightmare creatures. He had escaped the ancient labyrinth of darkness of the Underworld. He had voyage through the depths of the Forgotten Shore on the shoulders of an old headless statue.
He had seized the throne of the Bright Castle and become the Night Lord—the lord of a dying bastion.He holds the responsibility for the lives of hundreds of people. He will also have to continue to do so for next six years under the starless sky of Forgotten Shore. He will try to keep as many people alive as possible.
He has also become a murderer, a torturer and strangely he felt joy torturing people who defied him. His old self would have puked at this notion of taking demented enjoyment from the sufferings of others. But now he feels nothing.
He feels like what it is suppose to be like. If they cross him, they should face judgment. And the only judgment that exist in the Forgotten Shore is death.
"I guess change is an integral part of our nature. We constantly betray ourselves. We change, our values change, our moral change."
Konrad went back to think about his rule as the night lord.
He had done it all not because no one else could do it. but because he wanted to…
Now he carried the burden of hundreds of lives. Their hopes. Their fears. Their survival. It weighed on him, not as guilt, but as responsibility.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the silence stretch. The wind howled like a distant scream.
Somewhere far below, monsters crawled through the flooded corridors of the labyrinth, hunting for prey.
Next day as the sun rise and the dark sea receded, Konrad got down to the ground.
He summoned his echo, Diablo— his monstrous otter, a beast of the depths and cold steel. It surged forward, paws striking the stone with silent power. They ran.
The mission resumed.
He navigated the highlands, seeking signs of life. Most sleepers who survived the night would be drawn to high ground. Instinct or luck might push them there. Or desperation. Either way, it gave them the best chance to survive the tide.
Hours passed. Finally, he saw movement.
A teenager. Maybe seventeen. Dirty, pale, naked, blood on his hands that might not have been his. He stumbled, half-delirious, through the coral brush. He was scared shirtless seeing the monsterous otter running towards him.
He froze as the monstrous otter bore down on him.
Konrad pulled back on the reins, bringing the echo to a halt.
The boy dropped to his knees, trembling, mouth moving wordlessly.
Konrad dismounted. His black eyes scanned the sleeper.
Dormant aspect. Something to do with body reflex. Average potential. Barely above worthless.
He just gave him some advice on how to survive here and where to go.
"You'll survive if you're meant to," Konrad said flatly.
He gave the boy instructions. Which direction to go. What landmarks to follow. What signs to look for.
"Go east. Follow the arrows. Be silent. Stay vigilant. Don't stop moving towards the city. It is the only human bastion in this hellhole."
The boy clutched at his leg. "Please… take me with you. I can't make it alone."
Konrad stared at him. "Then you'll die."
And he left.
He didn't look back.
Konrad had no room for burdens. Not now. He wasn't here to play shepherd. He was here to save the worthy. If the weak made it to the city, then perhaps they deserved to live. If not… then that was their fate. After all only the strong had the right to survive.
Konrad was targeting those who had Awakened ranked aspect or higher.
He continued.
The days blurred. More sleepers were found—some already dying, others mad from fear. Many he left. But not all.
Some showed potential. One girl wielded a sliver of flame from her palms—an Awakened fire aspect. Another boy had long bony fangs instead of fingers, dragging the corpse of a monster behind him like a trophy. Konrad watched him fight. Watched him win. He had an Ascended aspect which had something to do with bones.
"You're coming with me," Konrad said.
He led them. Slowly, the group grew. Those with awakened aspects, those with valuable aspects. One sleeper even bore an aspect related to healing—a rare and valuable trait. Konrad protected that one personally.
He taught them on the move. How to stay silent. How to listen. How to feel the difference between real stone and monsters hiding behind. They slept in shifts, and only in defensible places. When night came, Konrad alone stood watch, staring into the sea as it devoured the land.
One week passed.
When Konrad returned to the Bright Castle, he did not arrive alone.
Twenty survivors followed him. Twenty strong, scarred, silent souls. Most were Awakened aspects. One had an echo. Two had received Ascended aspect.
The gates opened.
The castle watched as the Night Lord returned, silent and grim, leading his chosen behind him.
No parade greeted them.
No fanfare.
But within the hearts of those who watched from the ramparts and towers, something shifted.
Hope.
The Night Lord had gone into the deadly crimson labyrinth… and brought back strength.
Konrad handed them over to the campanies. He gave the ascended aspects to Harus. He is cultivating a force that will follow him through thick and thin. Like the fire keepers would follow Changing Star in the future.