A crimson comet tore across the heavens, a burning slash of red against the black velvet night. It streaked so fiercely that it seemed as if the gods themselves had ripped open the fabric of the sky, spilling their wrath across the continent of Serith.
In towns and cities far and wide, people stopped to watch. Mothers clutched their children tighter. Soldiers halted in mid-step. Old priests, their faces lined with decades of faith and despair, dropped to trembling knees, whispering fervent prayers to gods who might not listen. Monarchs behind iron gates stared out from high towers, their knuckles whitening as they gripped scepters and swords, eyes burning with a mixture of fear and resolve.
From the shadowed halls of the Sovereign Council, heavy doors creaked open. Advisors exchanged hushed words, their voices thick with dread.
"A bad omen," one whispered. "The comet of the Bloodcrown. Nothing good comes with it."
The world dissolved in a blinding flash. Erevan's last conscious memory was of his heart shattering a cold finality swallowed by endless darkness.
And then, he was somewhere else.
His eyelids fluttered open, heavy as if weighed down by centuries of dust. The sky above was an alien canvas a twilight of swirling stars that he could not name, constellations twisting in strange, impossible shapes.
Beneath him, the ground cracked and crumbled like old parchment. Hot sand sifted through his fingers as he lay on his back, his body aching in a way that was both unfamiliar and excruciatingly vivid.
He tried to breathe. Air, thick and dry, burned his throat. He coughed, hacking up grit, spitting out blood that tasted metallic and strangely invigorating.
His vision blurred.
Then, a voice deep and cold echoed inside his mind.
Not his own.
It did not ask. It commanded.
[System Activation…]
[Soul Signature Identified: Erevan Valen]
[Welcome, Host.]
[You have been chosen by the Bloodcrown Codex.]
[Warning: System classified as Forbidden.]
[Proceed with caution.]
A searing pain flared through his chest. He gasped, clutching at his heart as if to hold together something shattering within.
Blood. His blood.
It surged a living tide beneath his skin, pulsing with power and something else… ancient.
The voice returned, softer now, almost like a whisper.
[Vital Signs Critical. Initiating Emergency Regeneration.]
[Blood Essence Level: 5%.]
[Host revival in progress.]
Erevan's breath came in ragged gasps. His lungs felt tight, like they'd forgotten how to expand.
He coughed again, this time with less grit, more life.
He blinked slowly, noticing the desert sun sinking low, painting the horizon with bruised hues of red and purple.
The air was thick with heat, the scent of dry earth and cracked stone. His skin prickled under the unforgiving sun.
He tried to move. Every muscle screamed in protest, but he forced himself up.
His fingers scraped against a jagged shard of rusted metal a broken sword, half-buried in the sand.
Instinct gripped him.
He swallowed hard and clenched the blade.
A low growl sliced through the stillness.
Movement rippled beneath the sand, and from the earth's embrace burst a creature long, serpentine, scales glittering like shattered glass.
A Sand Fiend.
It hissed, jaws snapping.
Erevan's heart hammered, primal fear mixing with the strange new power thrumming in his veins.
He steadied his grip.
"Come," he muttered, voice rough as stone. "Let's see what you're made of."
The beast lunged.
The fight was savage sand whipped around them, a storm of grit and blood. Erevan slashed blindly, the blade biting deep into scales and flesh.
Pain flared as claws raked his arm.
He gritted his teeth and focused on the strange warmth flooding his blood a fire igniting within.
Suddenly, crimson threads shot from his palm, wrapping around the fiend's neck like living chains.
The beast choked, struggling desperately.
Erevan tightened his grip on the blade and drove it home.
The fiend collapsed, twitching in the sand.
Breathless, Erevan sank to one knee.
His chest heaved.
A window flickered before his eyes the Codex.
[Experience Gained: +20]
[Current Level: 1 | XP: 20/100]
[Stat Points: 2]
[New Skill Acquired: Bloodsense (Level 1)]
[Objective Updated: Hunt 4 more Sand Fiends.]
He looked down at his bloodied hands.
Power.
It wasn't just survival anymore.
It was the beginning.
Night came like a velvet shroud.
The stars above were cold and indifferent, their light distant and dim.
Erevan built a small fire, the flames flickering against his tired face.
He studied the Codex's shimmering runes floating in the air before him a map of stats, abilities, and objectives.
[Level 1]
[XP: 20 / 100]
[Stat Points: 2]
[Skills: Bloodsense (Lv. 1)]
He swiped through the menu.
[New Skill Available: Veinbind.]
[Requirement: Allocate 1 Skill Point.]
His fingers hovered.
The wind carried distant howls creatures stirring in the dark.
Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through his side.
He grasped the wound a shallow cut leaking blood.
His vision dimmed for a moment.
"This… is real," he whispered.
A laugh escaped him dry, bitter, yet strangely freeing.
"I'm alive."
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
A stranger a man draped in desert rags, eyes sharp as daggers.
He smiled, showing teeth stained with dirt.
"New here, friend?" the stranger said. "This desert doesn't forgive mistakes."
Erevan met his gaze, steady.
"I'm learning to survive."
The man laughed again, the sound echoing.
"You'll need more than that. The sands are alive, and they hunger."
He stepped forward, offering a water skin.
"Name's Kael. You look like you've got some fire in you."
Erevan took the water, the cool liquid burning away the dryness in his throat.
"Erevan," he replied.
Kael nodded, sizing him up.
"Erevan… maybe you're not just another lost soul."
The fire crackled between them.
The desert stretched endlessly beyond the flickering flames.
A long journey had begun.