Lisa watched Sam from the corner of the workshop as he hammered at a blade. There was something… off about the air around him. It shimmered faintly, pulsing with a strange rhythm that made her skin crawl. The same unsettling presence she had felt on the night the mountains trembled.
"Sam," she called softly. "What have you been doing lately?"
Sam froze for a moment, his eyes flickering with that familiar, faint darkness before returning to normal. "Just training," he said quickly, forcing a smile.
"Training doesn't make the air hum like this," Lisa said, stepping closer. "Tell me, Sam… what did you find in that church?"
His hand tightened around the hammer. "It's nothing, Lisa. Just some old ruins."
"Don't lie to me!" she snapped, fear edging her voice. "That power—whatever it is—it's changing you."
But before she could press further, Sam turned away, his voice low."Trust me, Lisa. I need to understand it first… before it understands me."
And with that, he slipped away, leaving her standing in silence as the lingering shadow of his energy rippled through the air.
Later that night, the church bells tolled softly under a silver moon. Sam entered quietly, his eyes scanning the ancient walls until he found her—Sister Lili, the keeper of old knowledge. She was the only one who might hold the answers to the strange symbols and the voice that haunted him.
The church lay bathed in pale moonlight, its tall windows shimmering with a quiet, sacred stillness. Sam pushed open the heavy oak doors, each step echoing softly against the marble floor. The faint scent of candle wax and aged books filled the air.
At the altar stood Sister Lili, arranging wilted lilies into a vase. She turned, smiling warmly when she saw him."Sam? It's quite late, child. Is something troubling you?"
He hesitated before answering, his voice low and uncertain."I… couldn't sleep. I thought I might read in the library. There are… things I don't understand."
Lili chuckled softly. "Books have comforted many restless souls." She walked toward the shelves lining the far wall. "What is it you seek to understand?"
Sam's gaze drifted to the mural behind her — the same one he had seen countless times. But tonight, it felt different. The figures of light and shadow almost seemed to move, alive in the flicker of candlelight.
"Stories," he said finally. "The ones about the Great War. The Elethels. And… the ones people don't tell anymore."
At that, Sister Lili paused. Her hand froze on the spine of a book. "The ones people don't tell?" she repeated softly.
Sam nodded. "There must be truths that were buried… right?"
Her eyes softened with something between pity and caution. "Some truths are kept hidden because they were never meant to be remembered," she said quietly. "Even faith has its shadows, Sam. You must be careful where your curiosity leads."
He lowered his eyes, his hand brushing against the pendant beneath his shirt — still faintly warm, as if alive."I understand," he murmured, though he didn't.
Sister Lili studied him for a moment longer, her expression thoughtful. Then she placed a thick, dust-covered tome on the table beside him. "If your heart seeks answers, start here," she said gently. "It tells of the first days of darkness — though I warn you, some pages were never meant for young eyes."
Sam offered a faint smile, accepting the book. "Thank you, Sister."
As he turned to leave, the candle nearest the mural flickered violently, its flame bending toward him as if drawn by something unseen. Lili's eyes widened for just a heartbeat — and then the moment passed.
She whispered a silent prayer after he was gone, but her fingers trembled as she touched the symbol of her pendant.
Something… was changing.
That night, the village slept under a curtain of clouds. Only Sam's window glowed faintly, a single candle flickering beside the old tome Sister Lili had given him. Its leather cover was cracked and dry, etched with runes that pulsed faintly when touched — though he told himself it was just the light.
He turned the first page carefully. The ink was old, faded, yet the words still held a strange energy, as if whispering to him.
"When light grew arrogant, the world sought balance. Thus came the Keeper — the one who would guard the unseen realm between creation and ruin."
Sam's breath caught. The Keeper. The same word he'd glimpsed carved beneath the church.
He leaned closer, scanning line after line, but much of the text had been scorched, the parchment blackened by time or perhaps by intention. Only fragments remained—
"The shadow was not evil… merely truth unbound by mercy.""It chose a vessel… one born of light yet touched by the forgotten."
The candle flickered violently. Sam looked up. The room felt colder.
A faint voice stirred in the back of his mind — soft, melodic, almost human.| "Do you seek me, little heir?"
Sam froze, his heart hammering. "Who… who are you?" he whispered.
No answer came — only the faint echo of laughter, ancient and distant, like the memory of a storm. The candle's flame elongated, darkening to a deep crimson hue before returning to normal.
He shut the book quickly, his breathing unsteady. Yet… something in him refused to stop. Curiosity burned stronger than fear.
He reopened the tome and flipped to the final few pages. They were written in a script he couldn't fully understand — yet as he stared, the letters shifted, rearranging themselves into words he somehow could.
"When the darkness awakens once more, it will call to its vessel. The seal will tremble. The world will forget peace."
Sam's pendant grew hot against his chest, a dull red glow seeping through his shirt. He clutched it tightly, whispering under his breath,"What are you trying to tell me…?"
The voice returned — this time clearer, colder.| "You already know."
A sudden gust blew through the open window, extinguishing the candle. The room fell into perfect darkness — and for a moment, Sam could see eyes staring back at him from the shadows.
Then, silence.
Only the soft thump of his heart, echoing in the dark.
The candlelight danced across the old pages as Sam traced his fingers over the faded symbols. The more he read, the clearer the connection became — one of the markings on the scroll matched a passage from the ancient tome. His pulse quickened.
"This one…" he whispered, touching the spiral-shaped rune near the bottom corner.
The moment his skin met the ink, the scroll flared with an eerie, violet glow. Shadows coiled up from its surface, swirling like smoke, and the entire room shuddered.
"Not again…" Sam muttered, but the scroll pulsed once more — and before he could react, a figure emerged from the darkness above it.
A tall, armored man cloaked in shadow stood before him, his face hidden beneath a crown-like helm of black steel. The air around him bent, distorted, as if rejecting light itself. His presence alone made Sam's chest tighten; each breath felt heavier, slower, as though the darkness were consuming the air itself.
Then came visions — fragments, flickering like shattered memories.
The man raised his hand, and people bowed instantly, their eyes turning black as his will overtook theirs. With a glance, he commanded armies. With a motion, he bent shadows into blades, shields, and beasts that devoured the light.
Sam's heart pounded as more scenes followed — each one more overwhelming than the last.
And then he saw it.
A battlefield that stretched beyond the horizon. A blinding radiance tore through the heavens as a colossal being descended — a god with eight wings and six arms, wreathed in pure light, its voice shaking the world.
Sam staggered backward, clutching his chest. The divine aura pouring from the image was suffocating, crushing. It wasn't real, yet it felt more alive than anything he'd ever experienced.
But then, amidst that impossible brilliance, the shadowed man moved.
He drew a sword.
It was like watching the void take form — the blade shimmered with condensed darkness, absorbing the god's radiance rather than reflecting it. Its edge hummed with power that defied reason, cutting through reality itself.
When the man swung the blade, the world split. Light shattered like glass. A single stroke carved open the sky — a rift tearing between dimensions.
"God-Slaying Art: First Style — Annihilation."
The words echoed inside Sam's head, searing into his mind.
The god's scream filled the void, and everything went black.
Sam gasped, collapsing to the floor as the vision faded. The scroll's glow dimmed, curling into smoke. His hands trembled uncontrollably.
"What… was that?" he whispered, his breath ragged. The mark beneath the pendant on his chest began to faintly glow — the same symbol from the scroll.
And somewhere, deep within the ruins beneath the church, a seal cracked.