A sudden, searing flash of dark energy burst forth from Aren's chest, cutting through the fabric of his clothes like liquid shadow. The energy coalesced into an emblem—an intricate dragon's head wrought in glowing black, pulsing with unstable power. It throbbed violently, like a living thing struggling to breathe, and Aren could feel it siphoning away his mental strength, draining the edges of his focus with an unforgiving hunger.
The bear, mid-charge, abruptly skidded to a halt, its fiery red eyes flickering with an uneasy caution as if sensing the ominous force now radiating from Aren's very core.
[Your Majesty, what just happened?] Val's voice crackled softly in his mind, calm but edged with concern.
"My emblem just awakened," Aren panted, struggling to steady his ragged breathing. Every breath felt like pulling smoke through iron lungs.
[Is it the Bright Dragon emblem?]
At first, Aren had thought so, but the truth came crashing down swiftly and uncomfortably. "No, it's something else. It's called the Dark Dragon. Another Prime emblem, I'm certain of it." He swallowed hard, recalling the brief but overwhelming presence of the entity that had visited him in that shadowed chamber. Unlike the familiar warmth and light of the Bright Dragon, this power was raw, dangerous, unpredictable. It wasn't an ally; it was a force that demanded respect and caution, or it could consume him whole.
The emblem's power was colossal, yet only a fraction of its true might was flowing through him—and even that sliver was enough to overwhelm his senses and wear down his stamina. Aren knew instinctively that this newfound strength was a double-edged sword: potent, but a ticking clock threatening to burn him out.
The bear, as if fueled by some infernal rage, gathered itself once again. Its eyes glowed deeper, the scarlet flames licking hotter across its fur, making the beast look as though it was wreathed in living fire. The ground trembled beneath its pounding steps as it surged toward him once more.
Aren's mind locked onto the emblem, feeling its chaotic pulse inside his chest. He willed the dark energy to flow outward, channeling it along his arm, down to the dagger he had unsheathed in his other hand. The connection felt tenuous, like trying to steer a wild storm with bare hands.
My body can't sustain this... The thought hammered in his mind, I'm burning through focus like dry leaves in a blaze.
The energy was volatile, untamed, and this was his first attempt at wielding it. He had no choice but to release it as a concentrated blast if he hoped to survive.
The bear closed the gap between them in terrifying strides, then launched itself into the air with a deafening roar. Its massive claws swiped forward, claws razor-sharp and hungry, while its jaws opened wide, teeth gleaming like polished ivory knives.
But then something extraordinary happened.
Aren's silver eyes began to shimmer and glow with an otherworldly intensity, the emblem's power extending beyond mere strength to heighten his senses. The world around him seemed to slow—time itself bending, stretching in a moment of perfect clarity. In this suspended instant, Aren's gaze pierced the bear's thick hide, tracing the flow of raw energy coursing through the beast.
It wasn't coming from the chest, as he'd always assumed—it radiated from deep within the stomach, where a pulsating emblem throbbed like the heart of a savage beast. The intricate pattern glowed red, fiery and alive, revealing the emblem's true shape—a primal, feral creature etched in pure energy.
What... is happening to my vision? Aren's mind raced. Is this what they call awakening?
"Val, can you see what I'm seeing?" Aren's voice was taut, barely a whisper.
[Affirmative. Your retina has acquired a new depth of visual perception.]
Time snapped back to its normal pace as the bear's momentum crashed toward him, but Aren's eyes remained locked on the pulsing red emblem within the beast's gut. With lightning reflexes, he twisted his body, pulling the dagger behind him and slashing in a fierce horizontal arc across the creature's vulnerable belly.
The blade, now coated in the black energy of the Dark Dragon, unleashed a surge of power that erupted in a wave of shadowy force. It sliced through the bear's flesh, and the energy blast rippled outward, slamming into the ancient tree behind it with a thunderous crack.
Aren's gaze remained fixed on the emblem embedded in the beast's stomach. To his astonishment, the glowing pattern fractured, spiderweb cracks spreading from his slash as if the emblem itself were shattering from the inside out.
Did I just destroy his emblem? What kind of power is this? he thought, breath catching in disbelief.
The bear staggered, its fiery aura flickering as the crimson energy began to fade. Though wounded and bleeding, it was still alive—and dangerously so.
But Aren knew his time was nearly up. The Dark Dragon's power inside him was nearly spent, and his body screamed for relief.
Suddenly, a tremendous noise tore through the forest—a deafening crack and a crashing roar. The massive tree that Aren had struck earlier, nearly severed by the lumberjack's unfinished work, was finally giving way.
I've got to move! Aren gasped, leaping and rolling away just as the great trunk thundered down, crashing precisely onto the wounded bear. The ancient tree split the earth with its weight, pinning the beast and finally ending its terrifying rampage.
Aren's chest heaved with exhaustion, sweat pouring down his brow, muscles trembling from the strain. In his mind, he knew the blow alone wouldn't have been enough. It was the emblem's energy, the perfect alignment of his strike and the tree's fall, that delivered the fatal blow.
"Val, is the bear still alive?" he asked, voice cracked but steady.
[Negative, Your Majesty. The creature shows no signs of life. However, your body is heavily bruised, and your muscles are tense to a dangerous degree. I recommend you drink water and eat soon.]
A weak grin tugged at Aren's lips. "Now you sound more like my Val."
As he settled down, the truth settled in his bones—he had become Awakened. Though he barely understood the Dark Dragon, he was proud to carry the power of a Prime emblem. It was a second chance, a fresh dawn after centuries of trials and losses.
Closing his eyes, Aren allowed himself a few moments of peace, feeling the steady pulse of the emblem beneath his skin, before rising again—ready to face whatever lay ahead.
⁂
The bear's lifeless carcass lay crushed beneath the massive fallen tree, its once-fiery red fur now matted and stained with dark blood. Aren crouched beside the beast, his hands steady despite the exhaustion weighing heavily in his limbs. He retrieved the axe, still intact, from the thick smear of gore and dirt. Slowly, methodically, he wiped the blade clean, each stroke a silent ritual — part respect, part grim necessity.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy, casting long, trembling shadows over the forest floor. Aren's breath still came in ragged gasps, the aftershocks of the fight pounding in his chest. Yet, he knew time was slipping away—there were still hours left before nightfall, and the wilderness around him offered no comfort. He needed to keep moving, to explore and search for clues, for answers.
[Your Majesty, I detect a digital trail just beyond that bush.] Val's voice chimed softly in his mind, the holographic path shimmering faintly, weaving through the undergrowth.
Aren's gaze followed the glowing indicator, and his lips tightened. "Looks like this path is well-worn... someone has been traveling here regularly." But then his eyes caught something far more disturbing a few meters ahead—a motionless figure, face down on the cold earth.
His steps slowed as he approached cautiously, a heavy weight settling in his chest even before he confirmed his fears. The man was dead.
The clothes and build matched the lumberjack from the cabin—a man likely in his fifties, worn by years of labor and hardship. His back was riddled with deep, brutal lacerations—ragged wounds perfectly matching the bear's savage claws.
Aren knelt, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Judging by these wounds, this attack happened a few days ago. The earthquake must have startled the bear, driving it into this area, where it encountered this poor man."
His eyes wandered farther, searching the shadows for more signs. Not far off lay another carcass—the female bear, also trapped beneath a toppled tree. This one had been uprooted violently, likely a casualty of the same seismic tremors that unsettled the forest. Around her head, small animals lay scattered, lifeless but strangely untouched—no signs of scavenging.
Aren studied the scene in silence, piecing together the tragic story. The man had been chopping wood when the tremors began. A frightened bear had fled, only to be crushed beneath the falling tree. By the bear's proximity to the man, Aren guessed the lumberjack had tried to free her. But the male bear, raging and confused, arrived afterward—saw the man near the female and, in a desperate act of rage or misunderstanding, attacked and killed him.
He must have tried to feed her, Aren thought quietly. The smaller animals nearby... a failed offering, a last hope.
The weight of the story pressed on him, stirring a complex knot of sorrow and respect.
[Your Majesty, your deductive skills are impressive—almost better than mine, I must admit.]
A tired smile flickered on Aren's lips. "As a king, I have faced countless disputes, had to weigh all sides before making judgments. One wrong assumption can destroy lives. This... this is a sorrowful truth of the wild. Brutal, but clear."
The path ahead looked straightforward, a well-trodden line winding deeper into the unknown. Aren made up his mind—it was time to return to the cabin, to prepare himself for the long journey that lay ahead.
⁂
Morning light filtered softly through the windows, casting a warm glow over the cabin's humble interior. Aren felt surprisingly rejuvenated, the soreness in his muscles tempered by restful sleep and the subtle, lingering surge of the emblem's power. He ate a hearty bowl of soup, the warmth soothing more than just his hunger.
He finished his morning meditation and training with a new sense of purpose, swinging the axe with fluid strength and control. His body felt different—lighter, more capable—as if the emblem's power were stitching him back together from the inside out.
[Your Majesty's biometrics have improved dramatically overnight. Muscle mass has regenerated and even increased—a remarkable response.] Val's voice was tinged with admiration.
"I forgot how this felt," Aren admitted, flexing his fingers. "After being Awakened, it's common to experience a burst of physical power. The emblem floods the body with energy, helping it adapt."
[Still impressive. When will you be able to wield the emblem properly?]
"That's the hard part. It's not just the emblem—it's also Valoria's blood in me that accelerates my recovery. Superficial wounds have healed already, but mastering a Prime emblem takes time, training, and patience."
Throughout the morning, he attempted meditation, testing how long he could sustain the emblem's power. Less than a minute. A small improvement from yesterday, but progress nonetheless. He could see the bear's emblem, the flow of its internal energy, yet his own emblem remained a blur—an elusive presence just beyond his full grasp.
"Right now, using my emblem burns an enormous amount of energy. I can only release raw blasts or enhance my strength briefly—then I'm drained. For the moment, I'll rely on my physical skills, and use the emblem sparingly, only when necessary."
[You mentioned your blood allows you to live longer. Does that mean you'll age more slowly? How long will you look like this?]
Aren paused, a distant look clouding his eyes. "It's complicated. I don't fully understand what's happened to my body—or my true age. But if I follow Valoria's growth patterns, I'll age slowly after reaching adulthood. For the first twenty years, I aged normally. Then my body stabilized—aging at a snail's pace, appearing to stay in my thirties for perhaps a century. It's a blessing... and a curse."
He glanced away, wary of how much to reveal. "For now, I keep it to myself. To avoid unwanted attention."
He packed carefully: fresh clothes, dried meat scavenged from the cabin, the medical kit from his pod, and some herbs he'd found nearby. Water was light in his bag—he'd already located several streams in the forest.
Among the few belongings left behind by the lumberjack, Aren found a small pouch containing bronze and silver coins. He decided to keep it. Alongside, he picked up a weathered notebook and some pencils.
[Your Majesty, there's no need to carry that—I can take notes for you.]
A soft chuckle escaped him. "Thanks, Val, but I want to keep my handwriting sharp. Plus, I like to sketch. Drawing is still close to my heart."
He pulled a black hooded raincoat over his clothes, both to shield himself from the elements and to conceal his weapons—the axe and dagger. A sturdy garden shovel was slung over his shoulder, an unexpected but practical tool for the journey ahead.
"Let's go," Aren said firmly, a spark of resolve in his eyes. "It's time to leave this forest behind."
⁂
The graves were a solemn task, and Aren devoted more time than he expected to the simple act of burying. He filled the holes with care, unwilling to rush or disrespect the dead.
The lumberjack's grave lay beneath the spreading roots of a towering tree—strong and silent, like a sentinel watching over a lost soul. Though Aren barely knew the man, it felt right.
The bears were laid to rest a short distance away, off the path. Moving the massive trunks that crushed their bodies tested his newfound strength; with breaks and bursts of emblem-powered energy, he managed the heavy labor.
Near the graves, he found wildflowers and gently placed them atop the fresh soil. Memories stirred—his parents had taught him to accept the cycle of life and death from a young age. A Valorian's long lifespan meant many friends and foes would pass before him. It was a painful truth, but a necessary one.
Sitting quietly, Aren opened the notebook and began to sketch, his pencil moving almost automatically. A soft, tentative hum escaped his lips—a melody from his mother's favorite song, long forgotten but comforting nonetheless. He didn't remember the lyrics, but the tune was enough—a farewell to what was lost, a greeting to the uncertain future.
His gaze lingered on his reflection in a nearby pool of water, wondering if his lifespan had truly changed—if time itself had shifted for him. Questions without answers. For now, they could wait.
Gathering his pack, he rose, heart heavy but steady, and stepped onto the worn path once more, ready to face whatever lay ahead.