Morning crept across Ashridge with gray light and cold wind. Rain had finally ceased, but the streets were thick with steam rising from the cracked cobblestones. The outer districts of Draegor never truly slept, but they did fall quiet during dawn, when the Guild patrols were thinnest and the desperate emerged from shadows.
Kian stood atop the rooftop, the Boneblade Knight silently at his back, and stared out over the decaying cityscape. Draegor's skyline was jagged, a mix of old-world towers fused with modern mana-tech cranes, arcane relays blinking across rooftops. Over it all, the Guild Tower loomed like a vulture.
He had trained through the night, refusing sleep. The Codex's training protocol continued to shape him.
Training Protocol: Ongoing
– Physical Training: Complete (3/3 Hours)
– Mana Channeling: Complete (1/1 Hour)
– Meditation: Incomplete (0/0.5 Hour)
His bones ached. Muscles, long unused, throbbed with slow fire. He was beginning to see change, minor but real. When he channeled mana now, it didn't seize through his circuits. It flowed, sluggish but steady.
He closed his eyes and sat cross-legged on the cold concrete.
"Breathe," he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse.
The Codex didn't speak aloud but echoed like a second mind inside him. It whispered techniques older than Draegor itself. Breathing methods, visualization, mental cleansing routines. As he meditated, he imagined his mana circuits, veins of blue fire laced through muscle and bone, and gently guided energy through them.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
Meditation Complete
The Boneblade Knight stood guard. Kian didn't need to speak to command it—he merely willed its presence hidden when others approached, veiling it in shadow with the Codex's illusions.
When his stomach growled, he rose and returned indoors.
His house was still. It always was. A building made for four now held only one. The fireplace flickered with a low flame, barely keeping the chill away. He warmed a ration over the heat—processed grain wrapped in wax paper. It tasted like salted dust.
He sat alone, chewing slowly.
Kian's thoughts returned to the Trial. The Codex pulsed in his chest like a heartbeat.
First Trial: Bind what death cannot hold.
The Boneblade Knight had been one such soul—a warrior bound to forgotten ruins. But the trial wasn't complete. There was more. And if he wanted to survive, he needed power.
After eating, he gathered supplies. A salvaged satchel. His old focus dagger. Half-burned torches. A cracked mana sensor that still beeped when near aether-rich areas. He tucked everything inside and slung the bag over his shoulder.
The rooftop hatch creaked open. As he stepped out, a voice met him.
"You look like you're about to rob a crypt."
He froze.
Sylie leaned against the outer stair rail, arms crossed. Her coat was patched with minor glamours, flickering with a pale blue shimmer. Her gaze flicked to the bag, then to his face.
"What are you doing, Kian?"
He hesitated. "Scavenging. Eastern Expanse."
"You do know that's where the gate opened. People say it's unrated. Are you planning to die before breakfast"?
"I've survived worse."
"Barely."
She stepped closer. Her expression softened.
"I heard what happened in the slums. Someone saw you dragging out a knight's helm, old world design. The Guild doesn't have records of that in any mapped dungeon. That wasn't scavenging. That was a find."
Kian said nothing.
"Whatever's going on," Sylie said, her voice low, "be careful. You're playing in spaces people aren't meant to touch."
Kian met her eyes. "Then maybe I'm not a person anymore."
Sylvie's breath caught. Her hand twitched toward her satchel.
Then she looked away. "I won't report you. Yet. But don't make me regret it."
He nodded. Then stepped past her into the rising mist.
The ruins of the Eastern Expanse stretched like broken teeth across the landscape. Old railways twisted through collapsed stone. Mana storms still flickered in the distance—storms that bent time, fried circuits, and corrupted the minds of those too weak to resist.
Kian walked quickly, guided by instinct.
He passed the Gate again, still hidden to anyone unbound to the Codex. The illusion shimmered faintly to his eyes, but he didn't enter. Not yet.
He had another plan.
Nearby, he found a burial site, an old Guild war memorial half-swallowed by vines and rubble. The statues were broken, and names were were half-carved into stone. But the essence of the dead still lingered.
He knelt beside a shattered tombstone, hand pressed to cold rock.
Codex Response: Resonance Detected
Initiating Soul Bind Protocol…
Blue fire flared across the ground. Dust swirled. Bones rose, not a warrior this time, but a shadowy figure in tattered robes. A mage. No armor. No blade. Just hollow eyes and flickering energy.
Kian reached for it with his will.
"Rise. Serve."
The spirit trembled.
Then obeyed.
Undead Bound: Hollow Arcanist – Tier D
Status: Unstable. Loyalty: Conditional.
A second servant.
But this one was imperfect, flickering, bound by lesser threads. The Codex pulsed again.
New Directive Unlocked: Stabilize Soulbound
– Gather Soul Anchors
– Channel Codex Energy
– Maintain Mana Presence Nearby
Kian staggered backward. Binding was exhausting, like pulling ice through his blood. He took a deep breath, then glanced between the Arcanist and the Knight.
His army had begun.
But he needed a place to train them, a place shielded from Guild eyes.
Hours later, Kian found the basement of a collapsed cathedral near the city's edge. Forgotten, blackened by old fires, the ruin still stood over a crypt carved deep into stone. Ancient wards lined the walls, too faded to activate but intact enough to conceal.
It would do.
He returned over the next two days, dragging supplies, marking glyphs, and setting hidden alarms with scavenged sensors. He carved training circles into the stone with a chisel and the Boneblade's sword.
There, he trained the knight in advanced maneuvers, taught the Arcanist to cast simple fire runes, and studied Codex entries on necromantic hierarchy.
Codex Entry: Hierarchy of Command
– Tier D: Common Constructs (Loyalty Varies)
– Tier C: Elite Shades (Intelligent)
– Tier B: Wraithbound (Magically Gifted)
– Tier A+: Revenants (Soul-Echo Entities)
– Tier S: Deathlord Class (Requires Ritual Ascension)
It was more than power. It was structured. A future.
And he wasn't alone.
One evening, as he practiced channeling mana through dual bindings, Sylie appeared again. This time, she carried a satchel and a canister.
"Mana syrup," she said flatly. "You're running dry."
Kian stared. "Why?"
"Because you'll die without help, and I hate seeing kids get eaten by the city."
"I'm not a kid."
She smirked. "No. You're something else. Not sure what yet. But... I want to see."
She dropped the satchel and turned. "Train smarter. I'll be watching."
As she vanished into the mist, Kian held the canister in his hands.
Hope, perhaps, came in strange forms.
The Codex stirred again.
Second Trial Approaching.
Domain Anchor Detected. Prepare.
Kian rose, two servants flanking him, cloak tattered, heart steady.
The dead were only the beginning.
End of Chapter 3