The cavern was quiet at last.
Ash of ozone clung to the stone, the ghosts of a thousand lightning arcs etched into the walls. Frostwing lay folded against the rock, her breath shallow, one wing still charred where venom fire had kissed her feathers. Brandon leaned into her side, pale and trembling, bandages around his arms flimsy as paper. Poison still shivered through his veins.
The koi floated in a shallow basin where water had gathered in the stone. He had dragged himself there after the last clash, fins aching, scales buzzing with aftershock. Blood Scales, once fierce, dulled to a tired red. For the first time since the climb began, there were no wings in the mist, no swarm pressing, no System screaming warnings. Only the drip of water, and three lives clinging to rest.
He let his fins still. In that silence, something stirred.
A pulse.
Not through the bond exactly, but near. Fragile, like a candle behind cloth.
He reached with Sense. Not Brandon's heartbeat, not Frostwing's weary pride. Softer. Smaller. A thread of life not yet opened to the world.
He froze. The signal was faint, but undeniable.
A child.
Not here, not now, but waiting—woven into Brandon's aura, carried forward by May's devotion in the village below.
For a moment, it warmed him. Then it hollowed him.
He sank in the basin, watching his reflection fracture in the water—crimson scales, tired eyes—and the old question, buried under battle and noise, rose sharp again.
What am I?
He shut his eyes.
"System. Tell me the truth. Where did I come from? Why am I the only one? Why was I born at… negative one hundred?"
The cavern air stayed still, but the reply came, cold as stone.
[Query received. Processing…]
[Host classification: anomalous entity]
[Origin: data incomplete]
[Status: Level -100]
His fins twitched. "Not enough. Why me? Why this?"
[Host once surrendered entirety of self.]
[Result: rebirth as lowest existence.]
[Purpose: continuation of ancient burden.]
The words pressed heavier than the mountain.
He had given everything, and been left with nothing. A bargain struck somewhere in memory he no longer held.
He forced the question. "What was surrendered? To whom was the burden owed?"
[Records fragmented. Cause unrecoverable.]
[Note: Host is unique.]
[Observation: no others of your kind remain—or ever existed.]
[Advisory: burden unresolved. Incremental load inevitable. Termination will not release.]
The koi went still. Unique. Singular. Not just last—perhaps never part of a species at all. Alone by design.
And worse—the weight wasn't static. It grew. Each breath added more. Each survival thickened the chain. A duty that would not lessen, only tighten.
He stared at his warped reflection. A fish. A burden. A mistake bound to keep swimming.
Far above, in the hall of the Seven, silence leaned.
Consensus whispered like thunder through stone:
Impossible now.
Not never.
The koi shivered without knowing why.
Brandon stirred in his sleep, hand falling unconsciously near the basin. The bond thrummed faintly, fragile but true. And the koi remembered the pulse he had just felt—the unborn life, a thread still forming.
Not alone. Not completely.
He whispered into the water, words no one else could hear.
"Then I'll carry it. Curse, burden, weight—inevitable, growing. If I'm the only one… then I'll make it mean something. Not for me. For them."
The System gave no reply. Perhaps it couldn't.
The cavern held its silence, three survivors bound by exhaustion and stubbornness. The koi closed his eyes, carrying both the weight of what he was and the echo of what was to come.
Level -100. Forever the weakest.
But still moving.
And tonight, that was enough.