The Ruins of Aetheria stretched beneath the crimson sky like a kingdom that had died mid-breath.
Once, this place had been a jewel of the Eternal Dominion—spires of alabaster marble, enchanted gardens, floating amphitheaters woven with song. Now it was a graveyard: toppled pillars half-swallowed by creeping vines, shattered mosaics bleeding colors into dust, and fractured walls that whispered as the wind knifed through them.
The ruins felt alive.
And they felt hungry.
Elias followed behind Lirael Voss with an exaggerated limp, dragging his feet just enough to seem fragile but not enough to fall behind. His arm—"injured" by the shadow wolves—had already healed beneath the blood-soaked rag. Hidden Harvest had processed the wolves' essence with clinical efficiency, strengthening bones and accelerating regeneration until the wound was barely a bruise.
But Lirael didn't need to know that.
"Keep up, serf," she said, not bothering to look back. "If you fall behind, I leave you. Good intentions get you killed here."
"Yes, Lady Lirael," Elias murmured, head bowed.
But inside, behind the fear he painted across his face, his mind was a quiet storm.
Noble Knight. Level 15. Aura stable, controlled. Sword at the hip, but her real weapon is certainty.
He watched her gait, the way she scanned corners, how quickly she judged threats. Competent. Disciplined. Predictable.
Pride was the easiest weakness to navigate.
The path curved to reveal a ruined amphitheater filled with movement and firelight. A makeshift camp sprawled across its ancient seats—tents stitched from monster hides, tables stacked with soul shards, weapons glimmering with faint arcane residue. A silver lion sigil fluttered above them.
[Cohort Detected: Voss Retainers]
Members: 14
Territory Claim: Minor—Aetheria Outskirts
"Found a stray," Lirael announced to her people. "Forgotten Serf class. Weak, but he'll do for bait or labor."
A scarred mountain of a man barked a laugh. Garrick Thorne—Level 12 Berserker. His muscles were slabs of stone wrapped in leather and arrogance.
"He'll die to the first imp that sneezes on him," Garrick said. "Waste of rations."
Lirael's gaze cut him like a blade. The Berserker fell silent.
Dominance. Efficient.
Elias shuffled forward, eyes trembling just right. "I-I can cook. Clean. Anything. Just… don't leave me."
Snickers.
Dismissive looks.
Perfect.
No one feared a begging dog.
They tossed him chores—fetching water from a corrupted spring, stacking supplies, tending the fire. He obeyed without complaint, quiet and invisible. But his ears were open.
The First Trial wasn't just survival. It was conquest. Cohorts vying for territory, resources, artifacts—each hoping to seize the Citadel at Aetheria's heart, an ancient floating bastion rumored to guard a Divine relic. Most would die without ever glimpsing it.
War was already moving toward them.
They were too loud, too confident to see it.
Night fell like a blade drawn across the sky. The blood moon rose, staining the ruins with arterial red. Monsters stirred in the dark.
Elias lay curled near the fire under a threadbare cloak, eyes half-lidded in feigned sleep, when the forest breathed a warning.
A low growl.
Then another.
[Nightmare Beasts Incoming]
Corrupted Treants (Lv. 10–15) × 8
Threat: High
Alarms erupted.
Awakened scrambled for weapons.
"Formation!" Lirael shouted, holy flame roaring along her sword. "Archers rear! Garrick—front!"
The treants surged into the clearing—towering wooden monstrosities, eyes glowing ruin-red, vines lashing with murderous intent. One smashed through the barricade, splintering it like rotten parchment.
Chaos detonated.
Garrick met the first beast with a roar, axe cleaving through bark. The mages lit the night with flares of elemental magic. Arrows streaked through the air, bursting in radiant shards.
Elias "woke" with a gasp, stumbling backward.
A vine snapped toward a young mage—Mira, Level 9—her hands trembling, her spell collapsing. She was seconds away from being torn apart.
No one else saw.
Elias moved.
His "panic" sent him tripping forward. The vine cracked over his head, missing Mira by inches. His rusty dagger slashed upward in a clumsy, desperate arc.
Only it wasn't desperate.
Hidden Harvest tugged the trajectory like an invisible puppeteer.
The blade severed a vital root cluster.
The treant convulsed.
Essence poured into Elias, warm and electric, filling hidden reservoirs.
[Essence Absorbed: +5 Vitality, Thorn Resistance, Minor Plant Manipulation]
[True Level: 9]
The treant staggered.
Lirael's holy blade pierced through its heartwood.
"Down!" she roared, fire consuming the creature.
The battle lasted only minutes, but each heartbeat was a war. Elias kept himself behind collapsing rubble, shifting through shadows, always "barely" escaping death and "coincidentally" striking weak points as treants passed.
By the end, three retainers bled on the stone. One would not see dawn.
But they survived.
As soul shards materialized, Lirael claimed most. A few were distributed.
Elias received none.
Officially.
[Hidden Harvest Complete: Equivalent to +2 Levels]
[True Level: 12]
[Skill Unlocked: Shadow Step (Concealed)]
A burst of speed, silent as a dying star.
He hid his smile beneath a mask of exhaustion.
Lirael approached, kneeling beside him. Up close, her eyes were fierce, her face smudged with ash and sweat. She pressed a glowing potion to his cuts—tiny scratches he'd kept deliberately shallow.
"You did… well," she admitted. "That trip of yours saved Mira. Clumsy luck, but effective."
Elias gave her a trembling, grateful smile. "I—I didn't want anyone to die."
She studied him. A beat too long. Something softened.
"Stay close tomorrow," she said. "The Citadel push begins soon."
When she left, Mira approached—freckled, red-haired, eyes filled with fragile warmth.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You saved me."
Elias looked down shyly. "I just did what I could."
But the truth was simpler:
He saved her because people who believed you'd saved them became loyal without realizing it.
Seeds planted.
Later, when the camp quieted, Elias slipped into the ruins, Shadow Step turning him into a smear of darkness between broken pillars.
He reached the place he'd sensed earlier—the battle's destruction had exposed a stairway leading underground.
A hidden chamber awaited him: an ancient altar of obsidian and bone, cracked but pulsing with dormant power.
[Hidden Legacy Detected:
"Echo of the Forgotten King"
Absorb? Y/N]
Elias's heart quickened.
He touched the altar.
The world fractured into light and whispers.
[Aspect Evolution Initiated]
Veiled Requiem → Requiem Sovereign (Partial)
New Ability: Dominion Seed
Plant a hidden territorial claim. Undetectable. Corrupts land over time.
Grows with you.
Hungers with you.
He planted the first seed beneath their camp.
The stone drank it eagerly.
No one would notice. Not yet.
When he returned to his bedroll, the blood moon hung fat and predatory above the ruins. Elias lay still, listening to the distant roar of monsters.
Three days until the Citadel.
Three days until every cohort marched to war.
They thought they were climbing toward a relic.
Toward glory.
They didn't understand.
A shadow had already planted roots beneath their feet.
And when their kingdoms rose?
Elias Kane would be the quiet thing growing underneath—
the soft whisper becoming a storm,
the forgotten serf becoming the sovereign in the dark.
The game had begun.
Not theirs.
His.