The morning sun barely pierced through the thick canopy as Arlen's boots crunched across the overgrown path. The forest was alive in ways ordinary eyes could not perceive — shimmering mana traces curled around the roots, and faint whispers of past life echoed through the leaves. Even after yesterday's harrowing dream in the void, Arlen felt drawn here, compelled toward something he could not name.
Lira walked beside him, her eyes scanning every shadow, every flicker of movement. She could sense the tension radiating off him like heat.
"Arlen… are you sure you want to go deeper?" she asked cautiously.
He nodded, though his mind was clouded with fragments of the void — the God's presence, the echoes of ancient authority, the surge of Fragment 1 stirring within him. He didn't fully understand it yet. All he knew was that something in this forest called to him, and he had to answer.
"I don't know why… but I need to see this through," he said softly, almost to himself.
As they ventured further, the air grew thick, heavy with ancient energy. The forest opened to a clearing dominated by the remnants of a colossal structure — a battlefield long forgotten, shattered stones etched with runes of unknown origin, and the skeletal remains of what appeared to be massive constructs.
Arlen stepped forward, feeling the pulse of Fragment 1 intensify. The relics, the ruins, the very air seemed to resonate with something ancient, recognizing him as a vessel it had been waiting for.
It's reacting… to me, he thought, clutching his chest as a sharp pain stabbed through him.
Suddenly, the fragment surged violently. Pain erupted from within his body, a blinding ache that left him gasping. Lightning arced along his veins, frost forming in delicate, jagged patterns across his arms. He fell to his knees, clutching the cold, rune-etched stone at the center of the clearing.
Visions assaulted him. Flames of an ancient battlefield roared around him, armies clashing under a blood-red sky. Faces of warriors he did not recognize twisted in fury and despair. He was both observer and participant, caught in a time that wasn't his own.
"Arlen!" Lira's voice rang out, breaking through the visions. She reached for him, but he barely registered her presence.
The fragment within him screamed, forcing images into his mind like shards of glass. Pain exploded behind his eyes, and blood trickled from his nose and mouth. He gasped, tasting iron, struggling to breathe as the sheer force of the memory threatened to overwhelm him.
This isn't empowering me… it's consuming me!
He fell backward, collapsing onto the cold stone floor, frost forming beneath his body as the fragment thrashed within him. Shadows of warriors flickered around him, spectral figures frozen in combat. He could hear the echo of commands, cries of betrayal, and the clash of weapons.
Lira dropped beside him, her hands on his shoulders. "Stay with me, Arlen! Fight it!" she shouted, her voice trembling with fear.
But Arlen couldn't fight it. Not yet. The fragment's power was beyond his comprehension. It didn't care about him, about his intentions — it was a fragment of something infinitely older, reacting to stimuli from a time long gone.
It wants… it wants to exist… through me.
His vision blurred, and for a fleeting moment, he saw himself standing atop a hill, leading an army of thousands. The ground beneath him cracked, lightning and frost spilling from his hands uncontrollably. He was commanding, directing, but not fully conscious — a puppet to a past he could not yet claim.
The pain subsided slightly, and he gasped, his body trembling from the residual energy. His eyes opened to find Lira watching him, her face pale but determined. She reached out, brushing frost-covered hair from his forehead.
"You're… alive. You're still you," she whispered.
Arlen's voice was hoarse. "I… I don't understand…"
The fragment pulsed faintly within him, no longer overwhelming, but still resonating. A shard of memory lingered — a battlefield, a name whispered in the wind, a sense of authority he had never held before. The fragment had partially anchored itself, leaving him with residue, but not full power.
Fragment 1… partially anchored, he realized, touching the cold stone beneath him.
He rose slowly, trembling. The forest seemed to exhale, the air lighter, yet the weight of what had just occurred hung heavily. He felt changed, but he didn't yet understand the full scope.
Lira's hand remained on his arm, grounding him. "You've faced something… ancient. Something older than us. But you survived. That's what matters."
Arlen nodded, swallowing hard. "It's not over. I… I can feel it. There's more inside me… more fragments. And this… this is only the beginning."
As they left the clearing, the ruins behind them seemed to shimmer faintly, as if acknowledging the vessel that had awakened a fragment of its power. Arlen didn't look back, but the fragment continued to stir inside him, its presence subtle but undeniable.
This is my power… but not all of it. Not yet.