The wind howled through the shattered remains of the Temple of Hollow Sins, a structure once grand and now reduced to jagged bones of stone and broken pillars. Crumbled walls bore ancient carvings—etched symbols of power long since abandoned. The air felt thick with the remnants of something that had once been sacred but was now forsaken, its sanctity a hollow echo in the vast emptiness. The very stones seemed to groan with the weight of history, as if the temple itself mourned its fall from grace.
Rin Xie stood at the threshold, his gaze tracing the broken arches and ruined courtyards that stretched before him. This place was a relic, an artifact of a time long past, when the heavens still demanded their tribute, and those who served them were blessed with immortality, but now\... now it was just another scar in the world of the living.
He had followed the faintest whisper of spiritual energy here, a subtle trace of something that felt wrong. A presence. A reminder that the heavens had once walked this world, and in their wake, they had left behind these forgotten temples. Monuments to the power they had once wielded and now, like the rest of the heavens, abandoned.
Rin's steps echoed softly through the emptiness as he ventured deeper into the ruins. The silence around him was heavy, thick with the weight of the past. Yet, as he crossed into the heart of the temple, he felt the air shift—something unseen, but undeniably present. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as a presence seemed to manifest in the shadows of the temple, just beyond the flicker of his perception.
He wasn't alone.
Before he could react, a chorus of voices rang out, sharp and unyielding, like a bell tolling in a distant temple. "Who dares to walk the halls of the Temple of Hollow Sins?" the voices intoned, their tone flat and lifeless.
The air trembled as figures began to emerge from the ruins—cloaked in robes of tattered black, their faces obscured by veils of golden wire. They were monks, but not of flesh and blood. Their eyes glowed faintly, their forms seemingly bound by invisible chains that shimmered in the dim light. These were no mere practitioners of the arts; they were soul-forged, animated by celestial chains that connected them to the heavens even in this forsaken place. Their presence was unnatural, a reminder that even in their abandonment, the heavens' influence still clung to these ruins, like a festering wound.
One monk stepped forward, his eyes locking with Rin's. "You carry the scent of death," the monk intoned, his voice a hollow echo that reverberated through the temple. "What is it you seek here, child of the broken path?"
Rin's grip tightened on his weapon, but he did not draw it. The scent of death was unmistakable to him now; it clung to his skin like ash, a reminder of the rituals he had undergone, the darkness he had embraced. He could feel their gaze boring into him, as if they could see through his very soul.
"I seek nothing," Rin replied, his voice steady, though something within him stirred—an old, familiar bitterness. "I only walk forward."
The monk's eyes narrowed, as though weighing the truth of his words. "Then walk no further," he declared. "You have entered the domain of the Hollow Sins, and here, you will face that which you have become."
The ground trembled beneath Rin's feet as the monks raised their hands in unison, their chains glowing with a strange, ethereal light. A surge of spiritual energy burst from the earth, engulfing Rin in an aura that seemed to freeze the air around him. He braced himself, feeling the pulse of something ancient, something far beyond his understanding, as the monks chanted in a language older than time itself.
And then, it happened.
The world around Rin seemed to warp and distort, his senses blurring as though reality itself was being peeled back. In the midst of the chaos, a figure emerged from the shadows—a figure that took shape before his eyes, an impossible version of himself. A younger Rin, wide-eyed and innocent, stood before him. His face was unmarked by the scars of his journey, his expression filled with naive ideals of strength, justice, and an unshakable belief that he could save the world.
"Why do you carry death with you, Rin Xie?" the younger version of himself asked, his voice trembling with confusion. "Why have you chosen this path? There is still time to turn back—to preserve your humanity."
Rin's heart clenched at the sight of his younger self—the child he once had been, before the world had broken him, before he had embraced the pain of others and learned to refine it. He could feel the pull of that innocence, a distant, familiar warmth that he had long buried beneath the weight of his experiences.
But this was no time for nostalgia. This was no time for weakness.
"This is the path I've chosen," Rin said, his voice colder now, firm with the conviction that had been hammered into him over the years. "This is the only path."
"You lie," his younger self spat, eyes wide with disbelief. "You are afraid of what you have become. You are running from yourself."
The words cut deeper than Rin expected, a dagger to the chest, as if his own soul had turned against him. He clenched his fists, the ghost of his innocence pulling at him, begging him to turn away, to reject the death he had embraced.
But the monks' voices rang out, their chants rising in intensity, urging him to act. "To hollow the soul, you must kill what remains of the old self," they declared, their voices unyielding, as if this was the only way.
Rin's body trembled. His younger self's face flickered, an image of all he had been, of everything he had once believed. His hands shook as he reached for his weapon, feeling the weight of it in his grip. But it wasn't his weapon he needed.
He had to kill what remained of his own humanity.
Without hesitation, Rin's hand shot out, and his fingers closed around the throat of his younger self, a strangled cry cutting through the air. His old self struggled, but it was futile—Rin's grip was unrelenting, his resolve absolute. The younger version of himself stared into his eyes, the innocence flickering one last time, before the light in his eyes slowly dimmed, snuffed out by the suffocating hands of fate.
The temple rang with the sound of a soul being torn asunder, a scream that echoed through the very bones of the structure. Rin's vision blurred as the world around him fractured, and in that moment, he felt the last remnants of his old self dissolve into nothingness.
Tears—dark, bloodshot tears—poured from his eyes, staining his cheeks as he fell to his knees. The pain was unbearable, a raw, searing wound deep within his chest. He had killed his innocence. And in doing so, he had completed the Rite of Hollowing.
The monks stood silently, watching as Rin trembled in the aftermath of the trial. They said nothing, but the chains that bound them seemed to shimmer with a faint recognition, as though they too had once been forced to face their own hollowing.
Rin's body felt empty, the weight of his own existence pressing on him from all sides. But as the blood of his innocence fell from his eyes, something shifted. The world around him seemed to grow sharper, more defined. A feeling, a sensation, something primal stirred within him.
Death was no longer a distant concept. It was here, in every breath, in every heartbeat.
He could feel it. Everywhere.
Death lingered in the shadows, in the flickering of a candle flame, in the flutter of a bird's wings. It was all around him, impending, inevitable. He could sense it in the air, in the people he passed, in the very fabric of the world.
Death Sense.
A new ability bloomed within him, allowing him to perceive the impending death of others. The world had grown colder, sharper, more dangerous, and Rin could feel the weight of it pressing down on every living thing.
The monks moved away, their chains clinking softly as they retreated into the shadows, leaving Rin alone with the consequences of his trial. He stood, wiping the blood from his eyes, the world now clearer than ever before.
The heavens sought to bind death, to control it, to deny its inevitability. And yet, in the hollowed ruins of this forsaken temple, Rin Xie had embraced it.
He had become something more. Something less.
The heavens were afraid of death.
And now, Rin could feel its approach in every living thing.
To be continued…