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Daniel exhaled sharply, forcing himself to move, each step a battle against the lingering pain on his hand. The wind howled through the mountains, carrying the scent of fire and fear. He clenched his marked hand, swallowing his dread. Whatever lay ahead, there was no turning back.
Daniel walked beside Cassandra through the winding paths of Haven, his boots crunching on the packed snow. The village was alive with panicked energy—soldiers barking orders, mothers clutching children close, healers rushing between the wounded with bloodied hands. Everywhere he looked, people turned to stare at him. Their eyes burned with accusation, with fear, with something dangerously close to hope.
They think I did this.
Cassandra's voice cut through his thoughts, low and bitter. "They have decided your guilt. They need it."
Daniel glanced at her, but her gaze was fixed straight ahead, her jaw set like stone.
"The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy," she continued, the title heavy with reverence. "Divine Justinia. Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers." A muscle in her cheek twitched. "It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. And now... Now they're dead."
The unspoken words hung between them, thick as the smoke curling from the ruined buildings.
Daniel swallowed. He knew the story—had played through it a dozen times. But hearing it like this, walking through the aftermath of real. lives lost, made his stomach twist.
They reached the gates of Haven, where a group of armored soldiers stood guard. The heavy wooden doors groaned as they were pushed open, revealing a bridge that connect to the other side gate that will led them to the treacherous mountain path beyond. The wind howled through the pass, carrying with it the distant, echoing screams of demons.
Cassandra strode forward, her boots thudding against the wooden planks of the bridge. The wind whipped at her cloak, making it snap behind her like a banner of war. "We lash out, like the sky," she said, her voice carrying over the howling gale. "But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did."
Daniel followed, his steps measured. The bridge was lined with soldiers—hard-eyed men and women in dented armor, their swords drawn, their gazes flickering nervously between him and the roiling green tempest above. Between them, Chantry clerics knelt in prayer, their voices trembling as they recited verses of protection. Their fear was palpable, a living thing that clung to the air like the scent of burnt flesh.
They think they're all going to die.
And maybe they were.
Cassandra didn't slow. "Until the Breach is sealed," she continued, her tone leaving no room for argument, "there will be a trial. I can promise no more."
Daniel exhaled sharply. A trial. Right. Because in the middle of an apocalypse, what they really needed was bureaucracy.
"Come," Cassandra said, gesturing ahead. "It's not far."
Daniel hesitated. "Where are you taking me?"
She didn't look back. "To test the mark on your hand. On something smaller than the Breach."
The implication was clear—if it worked on a small rift, it could work on the Breach itself. And if it didn't?
Well.
He doubted Cassandra would waste time with chains a second time.
They reached the end of the bridge, where another set of gates loomed—thick, iron-banded wood reinforced with barricades. The soldiers stationed there snapped to attention at Cassandra's approach.
"Open the gate!" she barked. "We're heading into the valley!"
The men didn't hesitate. With a chorus of grunts and the groan of straining metal, the gates swung open, revealing the jagged path beyond.
The valley beyond the gates was a scene of utter devastation. Barricades lay splintered and broken, their remains smoldering in patches of unnatural fire that clung stubbornly to the wreckage. Soldiers scrambled in every direction—some dragging wounded comrades, others shouting orders that dissolved into panicked curses. A group of them rushed past Daniel and Cassandra, their faces pale with terror.
"It's the end of the world!" one of them gasped, his voice cracking.
Daniel barely had time to process the words before the Breach pulsed again—a violent, convulsive spasm that sent a shockwave rippling through the air. The Anchor in his hand flared to life, the green light searing up his arm like liquid fire. Pain exploded through his nerves, so sharp and sudden that his legs buckled. He hit the ground hard, his vision swimming as he clutched his wrist, teeth gritted against the agony.
Cassandra was at his side in an instant, her grip iron-strong as she hauled him back to his feet. "The pulses are coming faster now," she said grimly, her eyes flicking toward the sky. "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear—and the more demons we face."
Daniel sucked in a breath, willing the pain to subside. His hand still throbbed, but he could think again. "How did I survive the blast?" he asked, voice tight.
Cassandra hesitated, just for a fraction of a second. "They say you... stepped out of the rift. Then fell unconscious." Her gaze darkened. "They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was."
Divine Justinia. The name flickered through Daniel's mind, but he kept his mouth shut. If Cassandra and the others hadn't pieced that together yet, he wasn't about to give them more reasons to think he was involved.
They pressed on, the path leading them to another bridge—this one longer, more precarious. Soldiers lined the edges, their weapons drawn, their eyes darting nervously between the sky and the valley below.
Cassandra's voice was low as they walked. "Everything farther in the valley was laid waste. Including the Temple of Sacred Ashes." She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "I suppose you'll see soon enough."
Daniel didn't reply. His stomach twisted at the thought. He knew what awaited them. Knew the ruins, the bodies, the horror of it all. But knowing and seeing were two very different things.
They were nearly across the bridge when the sky screamed.
A streak of green light—brighter than the rest, moving fast—arced toward them like a falling star. Daniel barely had time to shout a warning before it slammed into the bridge with the force of a cannon blast.
Wood splintered. Stone cracked. The world upended.
Daniel's stomach lurched as the bridge collapsed beneath them, the planks disintegrating into splinters. He caught a glimpse of Cassandra's startled face before they were both plummeting, the frozen river rushing up to meet them.
The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. The cold was instant, brutal—like a thousand needles driving into his skin. He flailed, gasping, the shock of the water making his limbs seize. For a terrifying second, he couldn't move, couldn't think, the current dragging him under—
Then his head broke the surface, and he choked in a lungful of air.
"Cassandra!" he coughed, twisting in the water.
She was already hauling herself onto a jagged slab of ice, her armor dripping, her sword still clutched in one hand. "Move!" she barked.
Daniel didn't need telling twice. He thrashed toward the ice, his fingers numb as he clawed his way up. The cold was unbearable, his clothes already stiffening, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps.
Then—
Another streak of green light.
This one hit the riverbank with a deafening crunch, the force of it sending a spray of ice and dirt into the air. But it wasn't just debris that emerged from the crater.
A demon clawed its way free—a twisted, sinewy thing like a shade. It let out a guttural shriek, its maw gaping wide, strings of saliva glistening between jagged teeth.
Cassandra didn't hesitate. She lunged, her sword flashing in the eerie green light. "Stay behind me!" she snapped at Daniel.
Daniel scrambled back, his heart hammering. But as he moved, the ground bubbled beside him—another rift forming, another demon clawing its way into the world.
Shit.
He had no weapon. No magic. No way to defend himself.
Then his gaze caught on something half-buried in the snow—a mage's staff, its metal glinting faintly in the dim light.
Daniel didn't think. He moved.
The staff was cold in his grip, the weight unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
Daniel's fingers tightened around the staff as the demon lunged at him, its grotesque maw dripping with saliva. The moment his skin made contact with the worn wood, golden text flickered across his vision—[Acolyte Ice Staff. Rank: Common. Cold Damage: 17 Damage per hit. Barrier Damage Bonus: 11% ].
Magic. Real fucking magic.
The demon was nearly on him. Instinct took over. He swung the staff in a wide arc, and to his shock, a shard of ice the size of his fist erupted from the tip, hurtling toward the creature with a sharp crack. It struck the demon square in the chest, frost spreading across its shadowy flesh like creeping vines.
The demon screeched, recoiling—but it wasn't enough.
This wasn't a game. There was no auto-aim, no perfectly timed combos. His hands shook, his stance was sloppy, and the demon recovered faster than he expected. It swiped at him, claws raking across his ribs, and Daniel barely managed to stumble back in time to avoid being gutted. Pain flared hot and sharp, blood soaking through his tunic.
Shit. Shit. SHIT—
He backpedaled, firing another ice bolt, but his panic made his aim wild. The spell went wide, shattering against a rock. The demon hissed, advancing, its too-many eyes locked onto him with predatory focus.
Daniel's breath came in ragged gasps. He was going to die. Actually die.
Then—
A flash of steel.
Cassandra's sword cleaved through the demon's torso, black ichor spraying across the snow. The creature let out a final, guttural wail before dissolving into smoke.
Daniel's legs gave out. He collapsed onto his knees, the staff clattering beside him.
"It's over," he panted, pressing a hand to his bleeding side.
Cassandra didn't lower her sword. Instead, she leveled it at him, her eyes blazing. "Drop your weapon. Now."
Daniel stared at her, incredulous. "Do you really think I need a staff to hurt you?"
Her grip on the hilt tightened. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I could've burned you alive before this," he snapped, exhaustion and adrenaline making him reckless. "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have waited for a damn stick to do it."
For a long, tense moment, Cassandra didn't move. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she sheathed her sword. "You're right." She jerked her chin toward the staff. "Keep it. I can't protect you."
She turned and started walking, her boots crunching on the frozen riverbank. After a few steps, she paused, glancing back. "I should remember you came willingly."
Then, to Daniel's surprise, she reached into her pack and tossed him a handful of vials—glass bottles filled with a swirling, iridescent liquid. "Take these potions. Maker knows what we'll face."
Daniel caught them clumsily, the glass cold against his skin. The system interface flickered again—[Lesser Health Potion x8. Restores 25% HP.]
Right. Because of course it's fucking labeled like a game.
He shoved them into his pockets and grabbed the staff again, using it to haul himself upright. His ribs screamed in protest, but the bleeding had stop because of the cold. He doesn't want to use the potion because of this little injury, because the potions will be more usefull for the next battle that could give him more bigger injury.
Cassandra was already moving, her stride purposeful as she led the way along the frozen river. Daniel limped after her, his breath fogging in the frigid air.
"Where are your soldiers?" he asked, scanning the barren landscape.
"At the forward camp," Cassandra said tersely. "Or fighting. We're on our own for now."
Daniel didn't like the sound of that.
Ahead, the riverbank sloped upward, the snow stained with streaks of black—demon blood. And there, half-buried in the drift, was a body.
A templar.
Daniel's stomach twisted as he approached. The man—no, boy, he couldn't have been older than twenty—lay sprawled in the snow, his face frozen in a rictus of terror. His armor was torn open, the flesh beneath mangled beyond recognition.
Then the system pinged again.
[Templar Scribe Cowl. Rank: Common. Armor Rating: 7. Magic Defense: +3%]
Daniel swallowed hard. This wasn't loot. This was a dead man's clothes.
But the cold was biting, his own tunic was soaked with blood, and Maker knew what else they'd face.
Gritting his teeth, he peeled the cowl from the corpse, trying not to look at the boy's face as he did. The fabric was stiff with frost, but it was thick, lined with fur. He tugged it over his head, the weight of it settling uncomfortably on his shoulders.
Cassandra watched him, her expression unreadable. She didn't comment.
Daniel adjusted the cowl, his fingers numb. "Let's go."
Cassandra nodded and turned, leading them deeper into the valley—toward the ruins, toward the Breach.
Daniel's breath fogged in the frigid air as they surveyed the blocked path—a jumble of massive boulders and splintered trees that made further progress impossible. The Breach pulsed above them, its eerie green light casting long shadows across the frozen river.
"There," Cassandra pointed to their right where a narrow, winding path snaked between jagged outcroppings of ice and rock.
They picked their way carefully along the treacherous trail, their boots crunching on snow stained crimson in places. The further they went, the more bodies they found—Templars cut down mid-retreat, their armor rent by claws, their frozen faces locked in final expressions of terror. Some had fallen on the path itself, others lay half-submerged in the frozen river, their lifeless hands still clutching swords or shields in death.
Then movement caught Daniel's eye—two twisted, shadowy forms prowling the ice further downstream. Demons. And they'd been spotted.
The creatures' heads snapped up in unison, their too-many eyes locking onto Daniel and Cassandra with predatory focus. A guttural, clicking sound echoed between them as they began moving forward, their elongated limbs skittering across the ice with unnatural speed.
Cassandra's sword was in her hand before Daniel could blink. "Flank them from here," she ordered, her voice low and urgent. "I'll attack head-on and hold their attention. That should give us better odds."
Daniel barely had time to nod before golden text flared across his vision—a skill interface materializing before him:
[Chain Lightning]
Unleashes an electrical attack on a primary target that arcs to nearby enemies
- Range: 5 meters
- Maximum Targets: 4
- Damage: 250% weapon damage (electric)
- Cooldown: 8 seconds
- Mana Cost: 50
[Flashfire]
Ignite an enemy with searing pain and send them fleeing in panic
- Fire Damage: 300% Weapon Damage
- Fear Duration : 8 second
The demons were closing fast. Daniel's grip tightened on the staff as he made a snap decision—Chain Lightning would give him range and crowd control. He focused on the skill, feeling an odd tingling sensation race up his arm as mana drained from some unseen reservoir within him.
The lead demon was barely three meters away when Daniel thrust his staff forward. A crackling bolt of blue-white energy lanced out, striking the creature square in its distended chest. The demon convulsed violently as electricity wreathed its form—then the bolt jumped, arcing to its companion with a sound like tearing parchment.
Both creatures shrieked, their movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated as the electricity coursed through them.
Cassandra didn't waste the opening. She charged forward, her blade a silver blur as she cleaved into the first demon's flank. Black ichor sprayed across the ice as she wrenched her sword free and pivoted into a second strike.
Daniel moved to support her, circling wide to keep the demons separated. His hands shook—not just from cold now, but from the strange, draining sensation of having cast actual magic. The staff felt heavier in his grip, his limbs leaden as if he'd just run a mile.
The second demon, though still twitching from the lightning, lunged at him with surprising speed. Daniel barely managed to roll aside, the creature's claws scoring deep grooves in the ice where he'd stood moments before. He came up swinging, the staff connecting with the demon's skull in a solid thunk that sent it reeling.
A pained shout from Cassandra snapped his attention back to her fight. The Seeker had one demon down, but the other had raked its claws across her thigh, leaving bloody furrows in the leather of her greaves. She'd fallen to one knee, her sword raised defensively as the creature loomed over her.
Daniel acted without thinking. He focused on the Flashfire skill, feeling heat blossom in his chest before roaring down his arm and into the staff. A gout of white-hot flame erupted from the tip, engulfing the demon in a conflagration so intense Daniel had to shield his eyes.
The creature's shrieks reached a fever pitch as it flailed, its shadowy flesh bubbling and blackening. Then, with a final, shuddering wail, it collapsed into a pile of smoldering ash.
Silence fell, broken only by Cassandra's labored breathing and the distant rumble of the Breach.
Daniel rushed to her side, his own legs threatening to give out from mana exhaustion. "You're hurt," he said, already fumbling for one of the health potions.
Cassandra waved him off, grimacing as she tested her weight on the injured leg. "It's nothing. Save your potions." She eyed the staff in his hand, then the charred remains of the demon. "That was... impressive."
Daniel let out a shaky laugh. "Beginner's luck."
Cassandra's lips quirked in what might have been the ghost of a smile. Then she straightened, her expression hardening once more as she looked toward the path ahead. "Come. Let's us continue."
Daniel followed her gaze. Beyond the bend in the river, through the swirling snow, he could just make out the jagged silhouette of the ruined temple even though it's still far—and the massive rift that hung above it, pulsing like a diseased heart.
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Name : Daniel Carter
Race: Elf
Professions: Mage
Weapon: Acolyte Ice Staff
Armor: Mercenary Coat and Templar Scribe Scowl
Accessories: None
Inventory: None
Potions: Lesser Health Potions x8
Skills: Chain Lighting and Flashfire