The forest had changed.
It breathed in unnatural rhythms now, roots coiling like veins, leaves whispering secrets that had no tongue. Kiro moved through the overgrowth with quiet purpose, his Core still humming from its awakening. Blood Venom rested against his back in a fluid sheath, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
The System was silent. Not gone. Watching.
Listening.
He could feel it… a pull. Like gravity, but deeper. Not of mass, but of memory.
The deeper he went into the untamed wilds, the more the world twisted around him—trees hollowed into shapes of humanoid sorrow, fungal growths shaped like ancient symbols, and moss that clung to stone like language.
At first, he thought it was madness. Then, he heard it again.
A voice.
Not the Blood God. Not the cold, commanding presence that had once flooded his veins.
This was… different. Fractured. Weary.
"You walk the corpse of a god, child. And you are not the first."
Kiro paused at the edge of a ravine. Below, half-buried in centuries of overgrowth, lay something massive—its outline forming only as he adjusted his vision. Not stone. Not steel.
Something older.
A throne.
Carved from obsidian, wrapped in shattered chains of gold and bone, the monolith pulsed weakly beneath layers of earth. It rose like the vertebrae of some titanic corpse, crowned by a shattered effigy—its face eroded, its limbs broken.
Still, it radiated power. Not the hunger of the Blood God. Not the searing heat of war.
But stillness.
Judgment.
Kiro descended without thought. Every step forward made his breath catch. Something in his blood recognized this place.
When he reached the shrine's base, a gust of hot wind struck him. Not from above.
From within.
The moment his foot touched the last step, his Core responded.
[Resonance Detected: Forgotten Authority]Cognitive Imprint AnchoredDo you wish to engage the Memory of the Silent Warden?Y / N
He didn't hesitate.
Y.
The world fractured.
The sky peeled away, revealing an endless battlefield frozen in ash. Titans warred in the distance—gods against monsters, stars collapsing above them. Kiro stood in the center of it all, surrounded by the ghosts of those long erased by history.
A single figure approached.
It wore no face. No voice. Its body was clad in armor the color of old bone, its steps silent across the memory-sand.
"You bear the mark of the devoured one," it said. "But you are not him. You are... something made after."
Kiro raised his head. "Who are you?"
"I was called the Warden. Keeper of Chains. Sentinel of the Ninth Seal."
It paused. Head tilted.
"And I was left behind. Forgotten. When the Void came, even gods fled. I remained."
Kiro felt the blood beneath his skin pulse.
"You seek power. Not for conquest. For survival. But what will you do when survival is not enough?"
The figure raised a hand.
Chains erupted from the ground—binding Kiro in place. Not physically. Spiritually. Each link was a memory: his father's broken hands, the laughter of slavers, the screaming silence of the hunting fields.
"To walk the path of gods is to carry the weight of every soul you failed."
"Endure. Or break."
Kiro screamed—not in fear, but defiance.
His Core surged. The chains cracked.
Core Resonance Amplified.Aspect Alignment Detected: Twin Legacy PathNew Seed Acquired: The Warden's Chain
The world snapped back.
Kiro collapsed to his knees at the foot of the throne, his breath ragged.
But something shimmered in his hand now—a broken fragment of a mask, etched with an ancient sigil. The first piece of a legacy older than the Empire.
And behind him, the throne groaned… as if waking.