The battlefield stank of charred flesh and iron.
Kael woke face-down in the ashes, cheek pressed to cracked stone still warm from the firestorm he had unleashed. His breath rasped in shallow bursts, every inhale burning as if his lungs were lined with glass. For a long moment, he could not move. He wondered if he was still dying, or if death itself had spat him back out.
Then the shard pulsed inside his chest.
A single, steady beat.
Alive.
Groaning, Kael pushed himself onto his elbows. His sword was still buried in the scorched ground, its edge blackened, its hilt hot beneath his grip. Around him stretched silence—a silence broken only by the soft hiss of cooling stone.
The corpses remained.
Some were hollow shells, their eyes wide, skin stretched taut, bodies collapsed like drained wineskins. Others were scorched to brittle husks, twisted into unnatural postures, mouths open in frozen screams. The stink was worse than any charnel pit.
And yet… Kael's body thrummed.
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[ Soul Count: 1,457 → 1,463 ]
Vitality: 19 → 22
Strength: 21 → 24
Will: 25 → 29
Forgecraft: 29 → 34
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He stared at the glowing script. The numbers had leapt again. His veins still hummed with energy, his muscles aching but powerful. He should have been broken. Instead, he was more.
The forge's voice curled through his skull, a whisper threaded with hunger.
You feed me well, bearer. For this, you earn your first mark.
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[ Title Acquired: Ash-Feaster ]
Description: You have consumed death and fire alike. Where others choke on ash, you grow stronger.
Effect: Resistance to fire and decay + Minor intimidation aura.
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Kael's chest tightened. A Title. Something that changed reality's rules around him. Something that marked him, forever.
His reflection in the cracked steel of his blade was barely human. His eyes glowed faintly with forge-light, his veins etched in pale fire. He looked like one of the monsters whispered about in campfires, not the man he had once been.
"…what have I become?" he rasped.
Far from Kael, in the fractured ruins at the battlefield's edge, a scavenger scout crept closer.
He had followed the sound of screams, hoping to salvage scraps of steel or scraps of flesh to trade for bread. But when he reached the clearing, his knees nearly gave out.
He saw the husks.
He saw the charred line carved into the ground, as if fire itself had been shackled into a blade.
And in the center, he saw a lone figure struggling upright, his veins glowing with molten cracks.
The scout clamped both hands over his mouth to keep from crying out.
Monster. Demon. No—worse.
He stumbled back, eyes wild, then fled into the smoke. He would run until his legs broke. He would tell the camps. He would tell everyone.
By the time Kael staggered back toward the war-camp, the whispers had already begun.
"…a soul-eater, they said. Men screaming, then nothing left but husks."
"…no blade could do that. No fire either."
"…maybe it was a cursed relic. Or maybe—maybe it was a man."
Each rumor grew in the telling. By nightfall, the tale had spread through the scavenger bands like wildfire. Some laughed, dismissing it as fear-drunken lies. Others sharpened their blades, muttering that if such a monster existed, its power could be stolen.
But in every voice, there was unease.
Something had awakened on the battlefield.
Kael sat alone in the ruined barracks, body wrapped in ragged cloth, sword across his knees. His hands trembled. Not from fear—not entirely—but from the forge's hunger.
It was never silent now. Always whispering, always urging. Feed me. Grow. Break them all.
He closed his eyes. Faces flickered in the dark—the men he had killed, their souls ripped into him. He remembered their screams, their eyes wide with terror. He had devoured them like beasts devour prey.
And the truth was worse than the horror.
He wanted more.
"…I can't stop, can I?" he whispered to the shard.
The forge pulsed, its whisper silk and steel. No. But you can choose who dies. You can choose whose strength becomes yours. Rule or be ruled, Kael. This is the law of the forge.
Kael's grip on his sword tightened. He knew then: there was no turning back. The battlefield had birthed him into something new. Whether demon or king, the path was the same.
The Soulforge would not allow him to remain a forgotten corpse in the ash.
He had been marked.
And the world had already begun to whisper his name.
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[ Soulforge Bearer Status ]
Name: Kael Ardyn
Title: Ash-Feaster
Soul Count: 1,463
Vitality: 22
Strength: 24
Will: 29
Forgecraft: 34
Abilities:
- Wraith Claw [Active] → Manifest a shadow-claw to rend flesh and soul.
- Forge Instinct [Passive] → Instinctive combat reflexes while the forge is active.
Titles:
- Ash-Feaster → You have consumed death and fire alike. Resistance to fire & decay (minor). Enemies feel instinctive dread.
Forge Condition: Stable (Caution: recent overload detected)
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