Chapter 2 – Trial of Worth
[System Installation: 99%...]
Finalizing Host Integration...
ERROR: Vessel Status – Unverified
Initiating Qualification Trial.
A cold chime pulsed through Ethan's mind, vibrating through bone and thought alike. His surroundings had shifted from the surreal void into something else — a broken plateau of jagged stone and ash-colored grass beneath a shifting twilight sky. Distant winds howled like whispers from the past, and the very air around him seemed heavier, thicker with silence.
Then came the voice — deep, ancient, without gender but filled with presence.
"To complete installation of the Hollow Crown System, the vessel must slay 5 living beasts without system assistance. Qualification is mandatory. Refusal is equivalent to annihilation."
"What?" Ethan's voice cracked out of him. "What the hell is this?"
He looked down at himself — his Charcoal CEO suit, tailored to perfection, now looked like it had survived a car crash. Slashed sleeves, burned hems, and flecks of ash. His once-polished leather shoes were scuffed and cracked. The silver cufflink on his right wrist was missing. His hand trembled slightly as he brushed soot off his chest.
"Worthy vessel? Slay beasts? What beasts? Where? Am I being hazed by Satan or something?"
He staggered forward on instinct, then paused. "Worthy… for what, exactly?"
"Worthy for the Crown of the Forgotten Empire."
That made him pause.
"The Hollow Crown is the last legacy of a world-spanning empire that once ruled land, sky, and sea. It fell not to war… but to fear. The gods, trembling at the might of mortal royalty, erased it from the face of the world. The empire's cities were buried beneath oceans. Its records, scoured from history.
But the emperor's will... never died. With his final breath, he severed his consciousness from time and began the search. A search for a new--"
Ethan stared blankly.
"ERROR: Host personality traits—cynical, pragmatic, dispassionate—within acceptable range. However, vessel strength and resolve unverified. Combat trial required."
"Wait," Ethan said, stepping back, his voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief. "Let me get this straight. Some ancient ghost-king was paranoid enough to hide his soul in time and now wants me—a corporate executive who gets headaches from tax forms—to go monster hunting?"
Silence followed.
Then a static-filled chime:
"For further information, clear the Qualification Quest."
[System Interface Locked]
[System Functions: Unavailable]
[Objective: Slay 5 Beasts Without Assistance]
[Progress: 0/5]
WARNING: Failure will result in disintegration of vessel integrity.
"Disintegration... of vessel integrity." Ethan sighed. "So basically—die horribly."
He muttered under his breath, "I knew I should've stayed in bed this morning."
Trying to ground himself, he checked his person. First instinct — pockets.
Inside his burnt jacket, he pulled out his wallet — a few neatly folded bills, business cards he'd never use again, and a black credit card that might as well be a bookmark now.
His hand brushed something metallic — he pulled out his smartphone. The screen was cracked like spiderwebs, and the moment he pressed the power button, it flickered once and shut off. Useless. GPS? Gone.
"Of course."
Then something more useful — in his ankle holster, still snug despite the shift in environment, he drew his compact 9mm pistol. Cool to the touch. He slid the mag out.
"Twelve rounds," he whispered.
And finally, tucked behind his belt buckle — his pocket knife, a foldable blade with a serrated edge.
At least something familiar had come with him.
He stood still for a moment, breathing in the sharp, unfamiliar air. It didn't smell like Earth. It was too clean… with faint traces of ozone and petrichor.
He walked a few steps forward, the broken plateau sloping downward. In the distance, twisted cliffs lined the horizon, and further below — a screech. It echoed through the air, too guttural to be wind.
A creature. A real one.
So it wasn't a bluff.
And then he remembered — the flame-winged creature from before. Avian, serpent-like, unnatural. He'd dismissed it as part of the hallucination earlier, but now…
"It was real," he murmured. "And that wasn't the only thing out here."
His jaw clenched.
"So I have to kill five of these damn things... just to earn the right to use the system? Fine. But when I do, you better start answering some questions."
[Caution: No assistance will be granted until trial is completed.]
[However, basic advisory response is permitted.]
He smirked. "So the glorified fantasy software has rules after all."
"Correction: The Hollow Crown System is not software. It is the memory core of a divine imperial consciousness. The term 'hollow' refers not to emptiness, but to the absence of identity. The crown does not seek heirs of blood… but heirs of will."
Ethan slowly nodded, lips tightening. "Heirs of will… so this isn't about being noble, or chosen. Just... capable."
"Correct. The crown seeks those who build thrones, not those born to sit on them."
That, strangely, made sense.
He stood still, absorbing the wind, the silence, the strange twilight of this fractured land. Ethan Cross — a man who had climbed the modern world's ladder by making deals, swallowing emotions, and sacrificing love for power — was now being asked to prove himself again.
Not with money. Not with influence.
But with blood.
"…Alright," he whispered, slipping the pistol into his holster and gripping the knife in his offhand.
He glanced toward the direction of that screech — something was waiting. And if there were beasts here…
"Wait.."