Crack.
Amir flinched as a dry log shattered under his boot. The sound echoed unnaturally in the deep silence of the forest.
Reil spun around, her eyes wide. "Quiet! The wraiths will hear us.
You're the one who led us to these broken, creepy ruins, Amir replied, his voice low.
The power of the gods does not come to you by itself, she retorted, her tone firm despite her youth.
Amir looked at her, a faint smirk touching his lips. This child is clever, he thought. I wish her a long and safe life.
Before the thought could fully form, a thunderous crack split the air as lightning struck a nearby tree. Amir jolted but steadied himself, refusing to show his fear. He used the sudden flash of light to survey their surroundings—the ancient temple stood silhouetted against the night, a crumbling monument of moss-eaten stone and forgotten grandeur. Its arches were broken, its walls scarred by time, and a presence of deep, resonant age seemed to emanate from its core.
Amir stayed close behind Reil as they moved. How long must we stay here?
Until we find the specific markings. Do not be so fearful.
Do not call me that. I am far older than you.
Older? Reil repeated, her tone lightly mocking.
After checking several stone gates, Reil finally stopped before one shrouded in thick vines. This is it,she whispered.
What is it?
These are Ouijae symbols.
Oo-ee-jay? Amir struggled with the pronunciation.
It is the ancient international language of Echogard.
How do you know this?
I do not know much, Reil admitted softly. When I was very young, my grandfather told me stories of ancient Echogard. He taught me a few Ouijae symbols because I loved to write his tales down. I remember this one." She pointed to a carved character. "It means 'gods.' And this one," she indicated another, "means 'stone.' Stone often signifies artifacts."
Amir studied the markings skeptically. "How can you be certain there is an artifact inside this tomb? How do we know it is not some… dangerous creature waiting for us?"
Reil remained calm. "I have read many books on artifacts and Tuners. One thing is consistent—those who become Tuners often find their artifacts in dungeons, ruins, temples, shipwrecks, graveyards, or even random mines. An artifact can look like anything—a pebble, a book, a shard of glass. But one thing distinguishes a god artifact from a normal one: it contains god essence. A normal artifact might grant a temporary advantage or reduce the cost of a sacrifice, but a god artifact can change your very nature."
"But that does not explain how you are so sure this tomb holds one," Amir pressed. "If normal artifacts are rare, god artifacts must be rarer still."
"They are," Reil confirmed. "But according to the texts, wherever a god artifact rests, these specific Ouijae runes—'god' and 'stone'—are found together."
Amir shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this. Did your brother never speak of such things? He was a Tuner, after all."
Reil's expression grew somber, though she replied with a faint, brave smirk. "The Sky-Sunder Line. To become a Tuner of this Gear, one must retrieve a stone from a wyvern's nest—an egg-stone, used to keep their eggs warm. It contains the god essence of the Wyrm King Heliaus."
An egg-stone? Amir asked.
Reil nodded. Though my brother was a Tuner, he never shared how he became one. As a boy, he was always fascinated by wyverns. One year, he followed a fire wyvern that passed over our village… and he disappeared for a month. When he returned, he was quiet. Withdrawn. He never allowed me to learn about Tuners. He always said it destroys your life. Her voice grew softer. "And in the Iron Republic, becoming a Tuner without government permission is a crime punishable by death. After too many paranormal incidents in Steelhaven, only the military and the Cog-Watch are permitted to awaken.
Amir fell silent, remembering Gail—how he had given his life to protect him, and how his final wish had been to keep Reil safe.
No matter what happens, Amir vowed silently, I will protect her.
The heavy stone door, covered in intricate, spiraling symbols, began to grind open as Reil's voice rose in a soft, rhythmic chant.
Keth'vor… Aes'nara… Ith'dul… Rh'kaelis…
Each word seemed to vibrate in the air, and the ancient Ouijae runes etched into the door pulsed with a faint, eerie blue light. As the door slid inward, a vast chamber was revealed—a long, high-ceilinged hall filled with thousands of chests, golden idols, glittering coins, and artifacts of impossible beauty.
Amir's eyes widened. "Whoa… so much gold. It's a treasure trove!"
"Do not touch anything," Reil warned sharply, her voice echoing in the vast space. "Not a single coin. Everything you see is a trap. One misstep, and we die."
Amir nodded, staying close behind her as they moved cautiously between the towering piles of wealth.
"Be careful," Reil whispered. "You may hear whispers—voices of the dead, or those you love. Do not answer them. They are ghouls. If one possesses you… you are already gone."
They moved deeper into the hall, the only light coming from a faint, sourceless glow that reflected off the gold. Then, Amir heard it—a low, drawn-out whisper from the shadows.
Amiirrrrrr…
He froze, turning his head. Reil, a few steps ahead, hadn't noticed he'd stopped.
Then another voice—Gail's voice—cold and clear:
You let me die.
Amir's blood went cold. He knew Gail was gone. But the voice was so real.
Then, his mother's voice, frail and trembling:
You left your sick mother… you pathetic child…
A single tear traced a path through the grime on Amir's cheek. "Mom…?" he breathed.
Gail's voice hissed again, closer now:
You watched me die. You are weak. A coward.
And then, Captain Squawks' shrill, accusing tone:
You forgot my seeds… you forgot me… pathetic owner…
A chorus of whispers swelled—every mistake, every regret, every moment of guilt he'd ever felt clawed at his mind. Amir gripped his hair, sinking to his knees.
Stop… please… I can't take this anymore…
Suddenly, a soft light fell over him. Reil stood there, holding a kerosene lamp he hadn't seen before.
Why are you crying, Amir? she asked, her voice calm.
Amir looked up, confused. She never called him by his name before.
Come, she said softly, turning.
Still dazed, Amir followed. But as they walked, he realized they were moving in the opposite direction from where they'd been heading.
Reil… where are we going? This isn't the way.
She didn't answer.
Reil?
Then—a scream from behind.
RUUUUN! THAT'S NOT ME—IT'S A GHOUL!
Amir froze. Every hair on his body stood on end. His skin went pale.
He slowly turned to the "Reil" he had been following.
She was smiling—a wide, unnatural grin. Then, her head began to rotate. A sickening crack-crack-crack echoed through the hall as it spun completely around, bones snapping audibly beneath her skin.
Before Amir could scream, a pale, bony hand burst through her chest, fingers clawing at the air. Another hand, slick with dark fluid, tore out from her open mouth, gripping her jaw and ripping it downward with a wet, tearing sound.
The body convulsed, skin splitting as the thing inside began to emerge—a gaunt, grey-skinned ghoul with hollow eyes and a mouth full of needle-like teeth, still draped in the tattered remains of Reil's form.
Amir stood paralyzed, trapped in a state of pure, mind-shattering horror.
The real Reil sprinted toward him, slapped him hard across the face, and grabbed his hand.
RUN!
As they ran, suddenly a CRACK.
The Ghoul's fingers snapped. The stone beneath Amir and Reil vanished.
They fell.
Not far—but into biting cold and absolute darkness. The trapdoor sealed above them, cutting off the world.
A voice oozed from the walls, guttural and intimate, as if spoken inside their own skulls:
You are in my territory now…
Amir pushed himself up, his hands sinking into something damp and fibrous. A faint, phosphorescent moss coated the walls of a narrow, low-ceilinged passage—a maze. The air was thick with the smell of wet soil and rotting petals.
Reil's breath fogged in the chill. Do not speak to it. Do not listen.
They ran. The corridors twisted, a madman's design. The walls seemed to breathe, contracting and expanding softly. And from the darkness around them, things began to stir.
Not one Ghoul. Many reil said
A pale, skeletal hand slid out from a crevice, fingers brushing Amir's ankle. He jerked back with a gasp.
From the left, a whisper: "Amir… why did you leave me to burn?" — his mother's voice, choked with smoke.
From the right, a wet, tearing sound, and Gail's final, bloody cough.
They weren't just hearing them—they were feeling them. The heat of the fire, the cold of the blade.
A figure shambled into the path ahead—a Ghoul, its face a shifting mask of stolen features. One moment it wore his mother's weeping eyes, the next, Gail's grimacing smile.
You carry so much guilt, it hissed through Gail's lips. It smells… divine.
"Don't look at it!" Reil yanked him down a side passage.
But the maze was alive with them. Ghouls peeled themselves from the walls, their forms unfinished, their voices a cacophony of every regret, every failure, every unspoken goodbye from Amir's past.
Pathetic owner… Captain Squawks' voice taunted from a creature with too many limbs.
You watched me die… Gail's voice came from a Ghoul that was now blocking their way, its body elongating, joints cracking.
Reil skidded to a halt, her back against a dead end. They were surrounded. The Ghouls closed in, a slow, tightening circle of whispering death.
Amir's mind was fracturing under the assault. He squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the end.
But Reil's voice cut through, sharp and clear. "The moss! It only grows where air flows!"
She pointed upward. A narrow crack in the ceiling, almost invisible, hinted at a way out.
"Boost me!" she commanded.
As the first Ghoul lunged, Amir linked his hands. Reil stepped up, shoved a stone aside, and hauled herself through. She immediately turned, reaching down.
AMIR! NOW!
He jumped, her small hand clamping around his wrist as the Ghoul's claws ripped through the air where his head had been.
They collapsed together in a small, dry cavern—a forgotten burial niche. The whispers from below faded to a frustrated, distant hum.
As they stood up to examine the burial niche, their eyes fell upon a large, imposing statue of the Wyrm King Heliaus. A heavy, palpable energy surged through the chamber, raising the hairs on their arms.
Reil's eyes widened. "This is it—there must be a god artifact nearby."
While Reil began carefully inspecting the statue, Amir wandered further into the sealed chamber. His footsteps echoed softly until he stopped before another statue, smaller and less ornate. "Reil," he called softly. "Which god is this?"
Reil approached, studying the unfamiliar figure. "I… don't recognize this one. But why is it placed alongside the Wyrm King Heliaus?"
Amir glanced at her. "Didn't you say there were seven gods?"
"Yes," Reil replied, her voice low with reverence. "The Silent Weaver, the Great Artificer, the Wyrm King Heliaus, the Masked Speaker, the Iron Mourner, the Heart Fire, and the Land Weaver. But the problem is… which one is this?"
"Does it matter? He's one of the seven, right?"
"Since he stands with Heliaus… I suppose he must be."
"Then let's find the artifact quickly," Amir urged.
As he spoke, he leaned against the statue, his hand accidentally brushing the stone scythe held by the unknown god. A soft click echoed through the chamber.
Reil spun around, alarmed. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!" Amir insisted.
Just then, a small, hidden drawer slid open from the base of the statue. Inside rested a softly glowing stone, pulsing with violet energy.
Reil leaned close, tracing the Ouijae symbol carved beside it. Her breath caught. "This is it… a god artifact."
Amir grinned. Finally, we did it!
"Thanks to your carelessness, we found it," Reil said, a faint smirk touching her lips. "Wait—if there are two statues, there should be another artifact." She handed the glowing stone to Amir and returned to the statue of Heliaus. After a few moments of searching, she discovered a second artifact—this one shimmering with a deep, coppery light.
Two different artifacts? Amir asked. Is that common?
I don't know," Reil admitted. "Finding one god artifact is rare. Finding two is… unheard of.
Then there might be more in this temple. We should keep looking.
We can't. We've already spent too much time here. Aggresus and his men are still hunting us. We have to leave—we can return later."
Amir nodded reluctantly.
Wait, Reil said suddenly. "There's one more thing we must do before we go. Find a sharp, heavy stone.
Amir stared, confused. What for?
Just hurry!
After a brief search, Amir returned with a heavy, jagged rock. "What are you going to do with it?"
Watch.
Reil sat down, placed the copper-glowing artifact on the ground, and began smashing it with the stone.
Amir cried out, Have you lost your mind?
But as the artifact broke apart, a small, intensely glowing gem was revealed within—the same coppery hue, but brighter, purer. She repeated the process with the violet artifact, revealing a second glowing gem, this one shimmering with amethyst light.
Amir stared in awe. What is that?
This is what we truly need, Reil explained. We must consume it.
Consume it? Are you mad? How are we supposed to swallow a glowing rock?
Reil laughed softly. "Not like that. We must grind it into powder first. But we'll need water—a river or pond. Come on.
As they prepared to leave, whispers began to stir again in the dark—the ghouls were returning, drawn by the released divine energy.
We need to move. Now, Reil whispered.
They slipped out of the burial niche and back into the maze, now guided by the soft glow of the gems. The ghouls closed in, their forms shifting in the shadows, voices layering into a chorus of fear and regret.
But this time, Amir and Reil didn't falter. Holding the gems seemed to grant them a sliver of clarity—a buffer against the mental assaults.
They found a collapsed section of the temple wall, partially open to the outside. Moonlight filtered through ivy and broken stone. Without a word, they squeezed through the narrow gap, tumbling out into the cold, open air of the Wicked Forest
As they made their way to a river deep within the forest, Amir froze. His eyes widened with recognition—this was the same place where that horrifying deer-like wraith had chased him.
He grabbed Reil's arm gently. "Hold on… this is where that thing came after me.
Reil glanced around calmly. "You were lucky Gail was there to save you.
While Reil pulled out a water bottle and filled it from the river, Amir's mind drifted back to Gail—how he'd saved him not just from the wraith, but later from Aggresus. Gail knew he might not survive, yet he gave his life without hesitation.
That's it, Amir resolved silently. No matter what happens, I will protect Reil.
Reil, meanwhile, took out the glowing stones—one purple, one copper—and began smashing them carefully with a heavy rock. With each strike, a wave of dense, heavy energy pulsed through the air. She continued until both stones were reduced to fine, shimmering powder, which she carefully mixed into the bottle of river water.
She handed it to Amir. Drink it.
Amir stared at the now-vibrant purple liquid. Drink it? Are you serious?
Yes, Reil replied steadily. "The stones you saw are called harmonics—they're found inside god artifacts. They contain both mana and divine essence. You can consume harmonics by drinking, mixing them with food, or inhaling the dust—though inhalation is risky. Tiny particles can lodge in your airways. Mixing with water is safest.
Amir took the bottle, his hands trembling slightly. Is there… any chance I could die?
Reil met his gaze. "It's a fifty-fifty chance. If the god of this artifact allows you to live and wield its power, you'll become a Frequency 1 Tuner. If it rejects you…She trailed off.
Well, what? Amir pressed.
You die.
A cold dread washed over him, but just as quickly, defiance rose in its place. Dying here was still better than being hunted down by Aggresus and his men. It was a gamble worth taking.
In one determined breath, Amir lifted the bottle and drank.
Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness crashed over him. His vision blurred, and a deep, resonant voice whispered his name from somewhere beyond: Amirrrrrr…
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and the world melted away. He found himself standing in the same endless hallway from his dreams—a place of mist and echoes. Before him loomed a towering figure shrouded in fog, gripping a massive scythe. Its eyes burned with violet light.
AMIR ZEN… the being intoned, its voice shaking the very air. "You are the mortal who dares to wield my power. Give me one solid reason I should not end you now."
Amir stood frozen, fear icing his veins—but he gritted his teeth and forced the words out. I… I want to protect the ones I care about.
The god drifted closer, analyzing him. Hmm… Every mortal has their own reason for seeking power. But how do I gain value from this?
I can help you, Amir said, voice trembling but clear.
The god let out a low, mocking laugh. Help me? How amusing, mortal. Very well… I permit you to use my power. Good luck with your… motives.
As the final word faded, Amir's consciousness snapped back to the real world.
Reil threw her arms around him, her small frame trembling with relief. Finally, you're awake! I thought you were going to die for a second."
Amir blinked, slowly returning to awareness. Where's your harmonic? Did you drink yours too?"
Reil nodded. While you were unconscious. Since my brother was already aligned with the Sky-Sunder Line, the Wyrm King granted me permission to wield his power as well.
But wait, Amir said, frowning. Didn't you say the Wyrm King's essence is only found in egg-stones made by wyverns?
"Yes," Reil explained. But the Wyrm King also leaves behind artifacts—like the one we found. Those can be used to awaken his power, too.
The roar of flames dissolved into the crack of thunder. The stench of blood faded, replaced by the scent of damp moss in the Wicked Forest. For a glorious, fleeting moment, Reil's laughter echoed in his ears—alive, real, pulling him forward through the trees.
Then, the vision shattered.
Amir was back at the beginning.
Aggresus's men tightened their circle around him, rifles raised, blades glinting in the chaotic firelight of the burning village.
Amir barely noticed. His mind had already fractured.
Her pale face… her final, silent tear… The images tore through him, splitting him open. The grief and guilt crashed down, a tidal wave of failure. He had promised himself. He had promised Gail.
He had failed.
Gail's last words, spoken through blood, echoed in the ruins of his soul: Protect my sister…
And he had let her die.
Amir's gaze locked onto Aggresus—a look of pure, wordless fury that went beyond hatred, beyond vengeance. It was a promise carved from grief.
AGGRESUS! he screamed, his voice tearing through the chaos. I SWEAR TO GOD—ONE DAY, I WILL KILL YOU!
Aggresus didn't even flinch. A cold, dismissive smirk touched his lips. That day will never come, he replied, his tone chillingly calm. Because I will end you here. Now.
He gave a single, sharp gesture.
His men opened fire.
But the bullets passed straight through Amir's form as if he were made of smoke. No impact. No blood. Only the faint shimmer of disrupted air.
The soldiers stared, confused. But Aggresus understood instantly.
An illusion. The same kind I used against Gail.
His eyes narrowed, a spark of grudging respect mingling with his rage. So… you're a Tuner as well. The Gear of the Veiled Truth. He gritted his teeth, then let out a low, intrigued laugh. You truly are full of surprises, Amir Zen. I never expected a man from another world to resonate with one of our gods. You've just made this hunt… far more interesting.
Scene Shift
Deep within the Wicked Forest, Amir ran.
He ran until his lungs burned and his legs screamed. Tears streamed down his cheeks, cutting paths through the grime and ash. He didn't wipe them away. He didn't stop.
Wraiths watched from the shadows, their hollow eyes following his frantic movement, but as the first light of dawn tinged the horizon, they lost interest and faded back into the gloom.
He didn't slow until he stumbled into the outskirts of another village—this one larger, with cobbled streets and, mercifully, a small train station.
Without hesitation, he rushed to the ticket counter, his breath still ragged.
"When's the earliest train?" he gasped.
The woman behind the glass didn't look up. "Six a.m., sir."
"One ticket, please. Does it go to Steelhaven?"
She nodded. Amir didn't hesitate. "I'll take it."
"That'll be five gold coins."
Amir fumbled in his pocket and pulled out one of the ancient coins he'd taken from the temple—a relic from a dead civilization. He slid it across the counter.
The ticket master picked it up, frowned, and handed it back. Sorry, sir. We only accept currency bearing the Iron Republic emblem.
Amir managed to persuade the ticket master using a bargaining technique he'd picked up back on Earth—part charm, part persistence, part sheer desperation. Soon enough, he held a single ticket in his hand.
He found a bench and sat, the weight of the last few hours crashing down on him. Reil's smile. Gail's sacrifice. The burning village. The bodies. All of it, replaying behind his eyes.
It's all my fault…
An hour later, the steam train arrived with a great hiss and the clatter of iron on iron. People began to board and disembark—well-dressed men in tailored coats, women in fine dresses, all clearly middle-class or wealthy. Amir realized this wasn't a commoner's transport. It was a luxury line.
But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore except the single, burning goal etched into his soul: Revenge.
He boarded the train, ignoring the awkward and disgusted glances shot his way. His clothes were torn, stained with mud and soot and blood. He looked exactly like what he was: a man who had lost everything.
He found his seat and sat, staring blankly ahead as passengers gave him a wide berth. He didn't care. Let them stare. Let them whisper.
Thirty minutes later, with a long, low whistle and a belch of steam, the train began to move.
A new arc was beginning
THE END OF PART 1