||The Road to the Core||
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Seven's steps echoed through the thickening mist of the Wilds. The landscape stretched endlessly before him, an ever-changing terrain of twisting paths, dense forests, and occasional ruins of long-forgotten civilizations. The Wilds were notorious for being untamable—no map could chart its shifting topography.
But Seven wasn't concerned with the wilds' shifting nature. His mind was on something else. The visions. The warnings. The power he had tasted. It was all swirling within him, like a storm that refused to subside.
His destination lay ahead—the Core. An ancient center of knowledge, where the secrets of the Planes and the technology that powered their creation had been hidden for centuries. If he could unlock those secrets, the shard might reveal its true purpose. But there were other forces at play—forces that didn't want the secrets of the Core to be uncovered.
The wind howled as he walked, but Seven wasn't afraid. His mind was sharp, his senses alert. His connection to the shard, while fragmented, was growing stronger with each passing hour.
He paused for a moment, eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon. He felt it—the subtle pull of something watching him, lurking just beyond his perception.
[Warning: Anomalous presence detected. Potential hostile entity approaching.]
The notification from the Infinite Planes buzzed in his mind, a stark reminder that he wasn't alone. But he couldn't afford distractions—not now. The pull of the Core was strong, but it was still distant. He needed time, and time was something he couldn't waste.
Seven's hand instinctively moved to the blade at his side. It was a relic from a time long past, a weapon forged from the essence of the first beings who had crossed into the Planes. It pulsed with energy, waiting to be used. He didn't intend to fight—at least, not yet—but he was ready if the situation demanded it.
The presence grew closer. Seven could feel it now—a cold, malicious energy radiating from the approaching entity. He narrowed his eyes, his pulse quickening.
A figure emerged from the fog, cloaked in shadow. Its form was indistinct, the edges of its body blurring like smoke. Its eyes, however, were unmistakable—cold and unfeeling, like two burning stars.
Seven's grip tightened around his blade. There was something familiar about this being, though he couldn't place it. He had never seen a creature like this in his travels. It wasn't human, not by any means. But the presence, the way it moved, the way it watched him—it was all too purposeful.
"You are not from here," the figure spoke, its voice like the rasp of dry leaves in the wind.
Seven's lips curled into a thin smile.
"Do I look like I'm from here?" he responded, his voice even.
The shadow shifted, its form rippling as though it existed between worlds, flickering in and out of reality.
"No, you are not," it said. "But you are headed for the Core, aren't you? I can feel it. You will not reach it."
Seven didn't flinch. His eyes remained steady, his body relaxed but prepared.
"Not today, I suppose," he said, his voice a quiet whisper of steel. "But the Core is calling me. You can feel it too."
The shadow did not respond immediately. Instead, it took a step forward, its form becoming clearer with every passing moment. Its body solidified, revealing the shape of an armored figure, its armor slick and black like obsidian.
"The Core is not meant for you," the shadow said. "It holds knowledge that is beyond your reach. Even the shard you carry cannot grant you what you seek. You cannot control what was never meant to be controlled."
Seven's eyes narrowed. There it was—the warning, the doubt, the push to turn back. He had expected as much. The entities of the Planes were always cautious, always seeking to protect the old secrets. But Seven had never been the type to listen to such advice.
"Then I'll make it mine," he said flatly.
A low chuckle escaped from the shadow. It raised one gloved hand, and the air around them seemed to grow colder.
"I will see if you truly understand the cost of your actions," the shadow hissed. "You will not leave here unscathed."
Without warning, the shadow lunged at him, its movements too fast for the eye to follow. Seven barely had time to react as the figure's hand—a blade of pure shadow—whipped toward him. He parried just in time, the force of the strike sending a shockwave through his arm. The force was unnatural, unlike anything he had ever felt. The shadow's energy was pure, overwhelming.
Seven's feet slid across the ground as he regained his footing. The figure's blade slashed again, but Seven was ready this time. He moved swiftly, sidestepping the attack, and in the same motion, he drew his own blade, a gleaming edge that cut through the air.
The shadow recoiled, its form flickering as though unsure of how to react. Seven's heart raced, adrenaline surging through him. He hadn't expected a fight, but he wasn't unprepared. The shard pulsed within him, its presence both a curse and a gift, lending him strength and clarity in equal measure.
The shadow swiped at him again, but this time, Seven didn't retreat. He met the attack head-on, their blades clashing in a burst of dark energy. The impact sent ripples through the fabric of reality, distorting the air around them. Seven's grip tightened on his blade, pushing against the weight of the shadow's force.
They were locked in a brutal dance—two beings of power, neither willing to yield. Each strike, each counter, was a clash of wills, a test of endurance and resolve. But Seven was relentless. He could feel it now—the edge of his power, the draw of something greater, something he could not yet fully comprehend.
The shadow staggered, its form flickering once more, but this time, there was hesitation in its movements. Seven seized the moment, slashing downward with a precise strike. The shadow's form shattered, breaking apart like glass, and it disappeared into the wind.
For a moment, there was silence.
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Seven stood alone in the clearing, his breath heavy, his body already aching from the fight. The presence was gone, but the feeling lingered—the knowledge that this was just one obstacle in a long series of challenges that awaited him.
He glanced down at his blade, the gleaming edge now dull from the shadow's corrosive touch. He needed to keep moving. The Core was close, and with each step, he could feel it drawing him in, beckoning him toward its mysteries. But he knew the path wouldn't be easy. Enemies lurked in every corner of the Planes, and they would stop at nothing to prevent him from reaching his goal.
[Warning: Anomalous fluctuations detected in the Core's proximity. Unknown entities inbound.]
The Infinite Planes' notification buzzed through his mind, but Seven ignored it. It was time to move forward. He couldn't afford distractions.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade as he started walking once more. The Wilds would not stop him. The Core would not remain hidden. And he would not rest until the power of the shard was his to control.