The Wyrmveil Forest was alive with silence—the kind that crawled into the bones.
Kael moved through its mist-draped hollows with quiet purpose, each step pressing deeper into the uncharted wild. Vareth's Shroud, as scholars called it, had many names—Wyrmveil among villagers, Grave of the Unspoken among hunters. And now, to Kael, it was simply the only place the world might forget him.
His hair drifted loosely around his shoulders—jet black, coarse, and wild like smoke carried by stormwinds. The shadows seemed to wrap around him, drawn toward the armor hugging his body—dark, jagged, and shifting. The Onyx Armor. It pulsed faintly with the echo of something buried beneath his skin.
He paused at a clearing, crouched, and touched the earth.
The world no longer spoke in wind or water.
It spoke in weight—the kind only he could feel now. The air twisted unnaturally where he walked. It felt like the world had paused to ask what he had become.
He clenched his fist.
Elenore's dagger hung at his side, untouched. He wouldn't clean it. The blood was hers. And theirs.
---
Far from the depths of the forest, the consequences of Kael's awakening rippled across the world.
Within the soaring towers of Obsidian Spire Academy, runes flared in urgent sequence as readings from the ley-lines reported instability. Headmaster Veiros, a Red Core High-Tier mage with a mind as sharp as his gaze, convened his council under the glowing seal of unity.
"This was not natural mana," he said grimly. "Nor corrupted. Something else awoke—and it threatens the arcane balance."
Simultaneously, reports flew across the tables of power. The Five Great Noble Houses dispatched their agents to investigate the energy. So did the Royal Empire, wary of any force outside its control. The Mage Association, with its vast knowledge and records of ancient magic, opened sealed grimoires. And from every tower, stronghold, and academy wing, eyes turned toward a forgotten place in the Outlands:
Duskmoor.
---
Lucien Ardyn led the Ardyn delegation.
Crimson-lined armor hugged his form, the color of noble blood. His sister, Selene Ardyn, followed close—cool-eyed and calculating, her mana aura refined and crackling beneath her lavender robes.
But they were not alone.
House Valewin sent a Green Core wind scout with tattoos swirling like storm currents.
House Corvan dispatched an elemental blade-dancer clad in robes streaked with violet lightning.
House Draeven—ever silent—sent two pale-eyed Seers draped in silver-threaded cloaks.
Even House Thorne, long believed dormant, had a shadow walker among the delegation.
They moved as separate wolves, but they hunted the same prey.
A ripple in power. A grave. A boy without a name.
---
The village of Duskmoor was dying slowly, its people small beneath the weight of watchful power.
The village head, Torlen, hunched and gray, stood before the coalition. The pressure of so many Core-ranked investigators made him tremble.
Lucien stepped forward. "Tell us what happened."
Torlen swallowed hard. "A boy… and a girl. They weren't from here. She worked, helped. The boy… he didn't speak much. Looked empty. But something about him… unsettled me."
"Names?" Selene asked.
Torlen blinked, startled. "I can't remember. I… know he was here. But it's like something carved him from my thoughts. Like a shadow that doesn't cast light."
One of the Seers whispered to her partner, "Not a memory block. A soul veil."
Another noble agent muttered, "That's not mana. That's something darker."
Torlen cleared his throat again. "The girl died. The boy buried her. We… didn't know who to contact."
---
Beneath the weeping willow, the group stood in grim silence. Elenore's grave was marked by a simple wooden stake, carved with a small dagger against a sun—her final trace.
Selene placed her palm against the earth. "There's still residual energy."
"It's not aligned with any Core," noted the blade-dancer. "Not even corrupted."
The green-eyed envoy from Valewin stepped forward. "It's dense. Heavy. Like… a shadow pretending to be flesh."
Lucien turned back toward the villagers. "What house did she serve?"
Torlen shook his head. "She never said. Only mentioned she used to work in a manor. Cleaned, cooked. Said she ran from something."
The envoy from the Mage Association scribbled down the clue. "We'll investigate servant records. Nobles don't forget who bleeds for them."
Lucien stared down at the grave. "And the boy?"
Torlen hesitated. "I wish I could help. I really do. I know he was here. But I can't even picture his face. It's like… the forest took him."
---
The forest hadn't taken Kael.
He had chosen it.
Deep within the Wyrmveil, Kael faced a snarling Tier III beast. Its body was covered in bark-like hide, and three yellow eyes shimmered in the dark. Foul spores clouded the air as it lunged.
Kael moved without hesitation.
The Onyx Armor flared. Black plates hissed and shifted as kinetic energy surged through his limbs. He ducked under the first strike, then launched into the air with unnatural grace.
He drove the dagger into the beast's eye. It screamed—thrashing wildly—but Kael didn't stop. His Ashen Eye ignited.
Time slowed.
He saw every twitch, every opening. He drove his gauntlet into its jaw, then stabbed again. The creature fell with a final gasp.
Ashuru's shadow twisted from Kael's own, consuming the beast's deathly energy.
Then the armor reacted.
A Soul Echo emerged from the chestplate—a translucent beast-shaped wraith, suspended in air for a breath before it vanished into the armor.
> "Soul Echo registered.
Entity: Tier III Wyrmveil Ravager.
Combat Efficiency: 78%.
Echo archived."
Kael stood, panting slightly. His armor now held the memory of the slain—each Echo a monument of his survival.
And each one... a cost.
---
That night, beneath a hollow tree, Kael held Elenore's necklace in his palm. He stared at it as if it might whisper to him.
But it didn't.
It had no magic. No secrets. Just memory. Just weight.
She was gone.
He was not.
And now the world stirred, searching.
An unknown energy intremerg woth the wind—distant voices, carried from the hills beyond the forest.
A girl. A grave. A boy without a name.
They were hunting.
Kael's Ashen Sigil Eye shimmered. He rose, silent and still. The forest parted for him now, shadows bending in acknowledgment.
> Let them come.
He didn't need to run anymore.