I stumbled back, breathing hard.
I was exhausted.
The beast's body hit the ground behind me with a wet, collapsing thud. It didn't twitch. It didn't rise again.
But I didn't move either.
The fear was still there—clinging to my skin like oil. Every breath burned. The adrenaline had drained from my body, and in its place came that terrible emptiness. A silence that felt too loud. My knees buckled without warning, and I dropped.
I fell backwards into the lake.
The cold slapped my body—up my spine, over my arms. My clothes soaked instantly, sticking to my skin. That was then i noticed my clothes were different. Thin black jumpsuit, it reached my neck and wrists. I noticed the shoes, they were black and tight .It wasn't deep, but I still felt like I was sinking. The water didn't hold me. It swallowed me.
I lay there, breathing, staring up at the cracked sky.
My fingers still clenched the sword—white-knuckled. It felt heavy now, heavier than it had in the fight. But somehow… familiar.
Like it had been waiting for me.
Like I had retrieved something I never knew I lost.
But I knew that was just a feeling. I didn't believe in fate.
I sat up slowly, dripping and shivering, heart still racing. The blade rested across my lap, faint pulses of energy rising from its surface. I had to know what it was. What it meant.
I called on the runes.
They shimmered into view—glowing faintly above the surface of the lake, hanging like breath held too long.
I read fast. One line caught my eye, and when I read it, everything else went quiet.
---
CHRONICLES:
[Shadow Key], [Forgotten King's Blade]
---
FORGOTTEN KING'S BLADE
A blade born of soul. Once wielded by a king lost to time. No name, just a title—The Forgotten King.
He ruled a land beneath the curtain of darkness. A king of silence, said to possess a power not born of any mortal realm.
The blade carried his soul. Balanced between light and darkness.
It made him unstoppable. But his heart remained pure.
Then something happened.
No one remembers what.
A war? Betrayal? Madness?
His kingdom vanished in storms.
Only the blade remained—buried in the heart of an island no one dares to find.
Monsters roam there now. Twisted things, born from whatever ended him… or perhaps what he became.
And still, the blade waited.
Waited through centuries.
In stillness. In silence.
In memory.
---
ENCHANTMENTS:
CLEAN-CUT – Nothing can resist its edge. Every cut bypasses resistance.
MORPHSTEEL – Like molten metal, the blade's form responds to the will of the bearer. Its true shape has been forgotten.
LINK – ???
RANK: AWAKENED
TIER: 4
---
I stared at the glowing lines for a long time.
The blade was beautiful—sleek and cruel. Strange symbols shimmered faintly across the steel, moving like they were alive. The hilt felt solid in my grip, but also distant. As if it hadn't accepted me yet. As if it was still watching.
I wasn't Awakened. I didn't even have aen. I was nothing—still broken, still empty. But the blade responded anyway. Like it chose me.
That scared me more than the monster.
The air around it felt sharp. Like it wanted to kill. And it could.
This wasn't a weapon.
It was a warning.
I looked up again.
The creature's body still lay there—twisted, blackened, unmoving. Patches of its flesh glistened under the dead sky like hot tar.
Then the hunger hit me.
Fast.
Deep.
Twisting my stomach into knots.
I hadn't eaten in hours. My hands were shaking, but it wasn't fear now. It was weakness. Need.
I stood slowly. My legs trembled beneath me.
Twilight creatures could be eaten. I knew that. Everyone from the Outer Fringe knew that.
I hated it. But dying of hunger felt worse.
"Better to eat a monster than die like one," I muttered under my breath.
I looked down at the sword. Its weight felt… aware. I willed it to shift.
The metal shimmered—flowing like ink—and shrank into a curved dagger. Smaller. Still sharp. Still dangerous.
I walked toward the corpse. Each step squelched in wet earth. The smell hit before I reached it—metallic, sour, rotting.
I crouched.
The hide was thick, like dried-out bark fused with flesh. I pressed the dagger in.
It sliced through effortlessly.
I worked in silence, jaw clenched. Every movement made the stink worse. The heat of its blood steamed against the cold air. I tried to keep my breathing shallow, but nausea crept up my throat anyway.
I hated this.
But I kept cutting.
Muscle peeled away. Black blood soaked my sleeves. I kept my eyes on the work—detached. Mechanical.
Then—
A scrape.
Not bone.
Something else.
Hard. Smooth. Colder than anything else in that monster's body.
I paused. Blinked. Then reached in slowly with my bare hand.
My fingers touched it—
Stone?
No, not stone. Something else. Something older.
It was buried deep, surrounded by twisted flesh.
I planted a knee and dug in with both hands.
Blood slicked my forearms. My grip slipped more than once.
But I didn't stop.
My arms shook. Muscles screamed. I let out a grunt and heaved with everything I had.
And then—
It gave.
I pulled it free with a burst of motion—so hard I fell back, landing in the dirt with the object clutched to my chest.
Breathing hard.
Chest heaving.
My arms were painted red. But I didn't care.
I sat up slowly.
Held it up.
It was… smooth, as hard as stone but warmer somehow. Not shaped like a weapon, or armor. Not quite a crystal either. It pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat.
Whatever this was, it had been buried in the monster's core.
And now it was in my hands.
Another piece.
Another secret.
The wind blew gently across the lake, stirring the surface.
And somewhere beneath that silence…
Something was watching.