The Codex of the Abyss sat atop the pedestal like a sleeping beast. The thick chains wrapped around it weren't ordinary metal—they shimmered faintly, etched with runes that flickered in and out of existence. They pulsed, as though alive, as though watching.
Ji-hyeon stood before the tome, not moving.
He didn't reach for it.
He didn't try to break the chains.
He simply observed.
There was no rush. No need to awaken something he didn't yet fully understand.
Instead, he knelt beside the pedestal, resting his hand on its cold surface. The stone responded to his touch—barely noticeable at first, like a heartbeat buried deep within the earth. His magic reached out instinctively, brushing against the chains, and the runes reacted, glowing slightly… then dimming again.
Not yet, Ji-hyeon thought.
He didn't have the key. Not a physical one, but a key made of memory, of soul, of rightful claim.
This place is trying to see if I'm truly him... the one I once was.
Rather than fight it, Ji-hyeon closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe. He began to focus—not on spells, not on the book, but inward. On the fragment of the past that now stirred like sleeping embers.
Images flickered behind his eyelids: a throne of shadows, a crown that bled darkness, armies bowing under the stars. A kingdom… and a betrayal.
The whispers returned.
Faint. Distant.
But this time, they didn't speak warnings or threats.
They spoke names.
"Aelthar."
"Kaelin."
"...Solemn Pact."
Ji-hyeon opened his eyes slowly.
The chamber felt colder now, heavier.
And the chains around the codex… loosened just slightly.
He stood, eyes sharp.
He didn't need to open the book yet.
Not today.
He turned and walked away from the pedestal, the magic in the chamber receding into quiet, but not vanishing. It would wait for him.
He had awakened a path, and the next steps would come not through power alone—but through discovery.
Back at the surface, the sun was setting. The sky glowed a burnt orange, and the wind carried the distant scent of pine and coming rain.
Ji-hyeon didn't say a word. He simply looked up at the fading light and whispered to himself:
"I remember more now. But it's only the beginning."