The smell of breakfast hit me the moment I stepped downstairs—a mix of sizzling ham, fresh-baked bread, and eggs cooked in something rich and buttery. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I’d barely eaten the day before, too caught up in training and thinking about everything Sid had told me.

The mess hall was already buzzing, guild members swapping stories over steaming plates of food, the occasional clink of mugs punctuating the hum of conversation. I spotted Sid at one of the long wooden tables, his back to me, already halfway through his meal.

I grabbed a plate and piled it high—eggs, ham, sausage, and enough bread to feed a small family—then made my way over to him.

“Morning,” I said, dropping onto the bench across from him and immediately diving into my plate.

“Morning,” he replied, his tone casual but… off.

I paused mid-bite, looking up at him. Sid wasn’t usually subtle about anything—if he had something to say, he said it. But right now, there was something in the set of his jaw, the way he avoided meeting my eyes, that told me something was up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, setting my fork down.

Sid sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Got some news this morning. Guild’s calling me south. Level 70 quest.”

My stomach sank, and not because of the food. “How long?”

“A few months, maybe more,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes studying me carefully, like he was gauging my reaction.

I blinked, trying to process it. Sid leaving? For months? I wasn’t even close to being ready for something like this.

“You can’t take me with you,” I said, more a statement than a question.

Sid shook his head. “No. The quest’s in a high-level zone, Sigvard. The kind of place where even I have to be careful. You’re not ready for that, not by a long shot. If you came with me, you wouldn’t last a day.”

I stared down at my plate, suddenly not as hungry as I’d been a minute ago. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“Stay here,” he said simply. “Train. Take contracts, level up, sharpen your skills. You’ve already made good progress, but you need to keep going. You’ve got the time, and the city’s safe enough if you don’t do anything stupid. Use it.”

I didn’t like it. Not because I didn’t trust Sid—I knew he was right. But the thought of being on my own, without him there to guide me or watch my back, made the pit in my stomach grow.

“Look,” Sid said, his tone softening slightly, “I’m not abandoning you. This is just part of how it works. You can’t rely on me forever. Hell, you shouldn’t want to. If you’re going to survive in this world, you’ve got to learn how to stand on your own. This is your chance to do that.”

I nodded slowly, even though it felt like a weak response.

“Good,” Sid said, clapping a hand on the table. “Now finish your damn breakfast. You’re going to need the energy if you’re going to start working on those sword skills without me breathing down your neck.”

We spent the rest of breakfast like it was any other morning, though the weight of his news hung in the air between us. Sid was good at distracting people, though, and before long, he had a small crowd gathered around the table, everyone hanging on his every word as he recounted a story about a manticore he’d fought years ago.

“So there I am,” he said, gesturing dramatically with his fork, “sword in one hand, shield in the other, and this damn thing’s tail swinging around like it’s trying to swat flies. Big, ugly bastard—poison dripping from its stinger, teeth the size of daggers. I’ve fought plenty of monsters, but this one? This one was pissed.”

The crowd leaned in, laughing and wincing as he described dodging the manticore’s tail, slicing at its legs, and barely avoiding getting his head bitten off.

“And just when I think I’ve got the upper hand,” Sid continued, pausing for effect, “the damn thing trips over a root. Faceplants. Hard.”

The table erupted into laughter, a few guild members clapping him on the back.

“And that,” Sid said with a grin, “is how I killed a manticore without breaking a sweat.”

I couldn’t help but laugh along with everyone else, even though my mind was still stuck on the fact that he was leaving.

After breakfast, Sid pulled me aside before heading out. “Look, Sigvard,” he said, his tone serious, “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear. But you’re tougher than you think. You’ve got the tools. Use them. Keep training, keep growing, and when I get back, I want to see how far you’ve come.”

I nodded, trying to swallow the knot in my throat. “Alright. I’ll... try not to disappoint you.”

He smirked, clapping me on the shoulder. “You won’t. Now get to work.”

And with that, he was gone.

Sid's departure left a strange, hollow feeling in my chest, one I wasn’t expecting. I mean, I got it. He’d been summoned by the guild. Level 70 quest. Big responsibilities. I couldn’t exactly expect him to turn that down for babysitting duty, but still… he could’ve said goodbye better.

One slap on the shoulder and “you’ll be fine” wasn’t exactly the emotional farewell I might’ve hoped for. And now, with him gone, I realized something else that hit harder than I expected: I didn’t have anyone else.

Sure, I’d become a little friendly with the group we’d traveled with to the Con, but let’s be honest—I mostly just followed Sid around like a lost puppy. They probably saw me as “Sid’s stray” at best, or at worst, “that guy who almost got eaten by wolves.” Without him, I was... nobody.

And that thought festered.

I didn’t even try to make conversation with anyone that morning. The big mess hall, usually alive with chatter, felt emptier without Sid there to dominate the room with his stories and charisma. I finished my breakfast in silence and left.

I felt aimless. I wasn’t ready to go on some grand adventure, and I knew it. I wasn’t even ready for a proper fight, not without Sid. Without the corruption, my combat skills felt amateurish. The shadow blades and my Shadowform might’ve gotten me out of a few tight spots, but those were just crutches. I relied on them too much, and I knew it.

Still, I couldn’t just sit around feeling sorry for myself. The frustration, the sense of being abandoned, started building into something hotter, sharper. Before I realized it, I was storming out of the inn and heading straight for the job board.

The board loomed in front of me, a chaotic mess of pinned papers and scrawled descriptions, each one detailing some threat or task that needed handling. Normally, I would’ve taken the time to read through the quests carefully, looking for something manageable—something within my level. Not today.

Without even glancing at the details, I yanked a sheet off the board. The only thing I noticed before shoving it into my pocket was the Level 15 scrawled at the top.

More than twice my level. Perfect.

I didn’t even care what the quest was. A monster? Bandits? Delivering some lost grandma’s prized teapot to another town? It didn’t matter. All I cared about was getting out of here and doing something—anything—to prove to myself that I wasn’t completely useless without Sid.

Without stopping to prepare, plan, or even think, I started walking. The streets blurred around me as I headed toward the city gates, anger and determination swirling in my chest like a storm. I wasn’t going to be the lost puppy anymore. If I couldn’t fight as well without the corruption, then I’d fight harder. If I couldn’t rely on anyone else, then I’d figure out how to rely on myself.

Sid could go off on his high-level quest to the south. I didn’t need him.

At least, that’s what I told myself as I marched out of the city, the crumpled quest sheet still stuffed into my pocket. I hadn’t even read the damn thing.

It didn’t take long for the adrenaline and righteous anger to give way to an important realization: I had no idea where I was going.

I slowed to a stop just outside the city gates, staring blankly at the dirt road ahead. My pulse was still racing, my jaw tight with determination, but my feet hesitated. I had grabbed the quest, stormed out, and marched all the way here… without bothering to actually figure out where "here" was supposed to be.

With a sigh, I reached into my pocket and yanked out the crumpled quest sheet. Flattening it against my thigh, I squinted at the smudged ink.

Quest: Missing Miners

Level: 15

Location: Quarry, south of the city

Details: 30 miners have disappeared while working in the quarry. Investigate the cause and resolve the issue.

Reward: 75 gold

Quarry. South. Thirty miners missing.

“Great,” I muttered, stuffing the paper back into my pocket. "South it is."

I glanced up at the sun for direction, then mentally kicked myself because I didn’t actually know which way was south. After a quick, subtle check of the shadows and pretending like I totally knew what I was doing, I turned to what I hoped was the right road and started walking.

The further I got from the city, the quieter the world became. The noise and bustle of the streets faded behind me, replaced by the soft rustle of wind through the trees and the crunch of gravel underfoot. It was almost peaceful, if you ignored the fact that I was heading into what was likely a deathtrap for someone my level.

But I wasn’t going to think about that. Not yet.

Instead, I focused on the quest itself—or, at least, the bits of it I’d actually bothered to read. Thirty miners missing? That was a lot of people to just… vanish. And if the guild thought it warranted a Level 15 rating, that probably meant there was something nasty waiting at the quarry. A monster? Bandits? Something worse?

I didn’t know. And honestly, I didn’t care.

I wasn’t doing this quest for the miners, or the reward, or even the challenge. I was doing it because I needed to prove something to myself. That I could survive without Sid. That I could be more than a scared Outlander barely scraping by.

Still, as I walked, doubt began creeping into the edges of my mind. Level 15. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t even halfway to that. Did I really think I could handle this alone?

I glanced at my arm, flexing my fingers. The corruption was still there, a constant presence under my skin. I hadn’t summoned a weapon yet, hadn’t touched Shadowform since the last training session with Sid. But I could feel it, humming quietly in the back of my mind, like a shadowy reservoir just waiting to be tapped.

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If worse came to worst, I could use it. I would use it.

But deep down, I knew the corruption alone wouldn’t be enough. Not against something that could take out thirty miners.

“Too late now,” I muttered to myself, shaking off the doubt as I pushed forward. The road stretched ahead, winding through rolling hills and patches of dense forest. Somewhere out there was the quarry. And whatever was waiting inside it.

I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword and kept walking.

It had taken me nearly a full day of walking to get here, and my legs felt every bit of it. My frustration at Sid had carried me for the first few hours, but by the time the sun began its slow descent, all that was left was the dull ache of exhaustion and a gnawing sense of dread.

As I crested the last hill, the forest abruptly fell away, revealing the quarry below. It stopped me in my tracks.

The place was massive. The sheer size of it was overwhelming—almost a mile long in all directions, with tiers of rock carved into levels that stretched downward like some kind of giant staircase. Wooden rope bridges swayed gently in the evening breeze, connecting platforms perched on tall stilts, probably meant to keep them above water during heavy rains.

Dozens of dark mine entrances dotted the quarry walls, each one framed with thick wooden beams to keep the stone from collapsing inward. The wood was old and weathered, but sturdy—whoever built it had known what they were doing.

I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. This place had been alive once. I could picture it: miners hauling carts of stone and ore, ropes groaning under heavy loads, the clang of tools striking rock.

But now? It was dead silent.

Not a single soul in sight.

The platforms swayed gently in the breeze, but otherwise, nothing moved. No shouts, no footsteps, no distant clatter of tools or machinery. Even the air felt heavy, like the quarry itself was holding its breath, waiting.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. Thirty miners had disappeared here. Thirty. That wasn’t just strange—it was impossible. People didn’t just vanish without a trace.

And yet, looking down at the empty quarry, it was like the place had swallowed them whole.

I adjusted the strap on my pack, my hand instinctively brushing the hilt of my sword. I didn’t know what I was walking into, but I knew one thing for sure: this place wasn’t as empty as it looked.

“Alright, Sigvard,” I muttered to myself, steeling my nerves. “Time to see what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

With that, I started down the hill, toward the silent, yawning depths of the quarry.

The deeper I went into the quarry, the more uneasy I felt. The carved walls of the mine pressed closer, and the silence became suffocating. The torch in my hand flickered against the dark, casting long, jittering shadows that looked far too alive for my liking. Every so often, the tunnel split off into smaller passageways, their inky blackness inviting but unnerving. The further I descended, the more scattered signs of the miners I found: a broken lantern, a discarded pickaxe, a patch of dirt smeared with dark stains I didn’t want to investigate too closely.

Then I saw it—a crude hole dug into the side of the tunnel, smaller and rougher than the others. The edges were jagged, the wood supports around it splintered and hastily hammered into place. This wasn’t part of the original mine. It looked like something the miners had dug in a hurry, as if they’d stumbled onto something and couldn’t resist digging further.

My gut twisted as I crouched to inspect it. The tunnel’s entrance was barely large enough to crawl through, but faintly, deeper inside, I could see a soft, sickly green glow.

“Of course it’s glowing,” I muttered, shifting my torch to my off-hand. I didn’t trust the small space, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice. The miners were down here somewhere, and if they’d gone this far, I needed to see what they’d found.

Sliding onto my stomach, I crawled through the narrow tunnel, the rough stone scraping against my armor and elbows. The air grew colder and heavier with each foot I advanced, and the green light pulsed faintly ahead, dimming and brightening in an unsettling rhythm. It reminded me of a heartbeat, though whose—or what’s—I didn’t want to think about.

After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel opened into a wider chamber. Or rather, half of a chamber.

The miners hadn’t finished breaking through. What I was looking at wasn’t just a cavern—it was something else. Only half the room had been exposed, the other half still sealed behind a jagged wall of rock. Through the uneven gap, I could see a large black orb sitting on an ancient pedestal, the relic glowing with that same pulsating green light. The stone pedestal was smooth, almost polished, and the air around it shimmered faintly, like heat rising off a summer road.

It was eerie, otherworldly. Whatever it was, it didn’t belong here.

I stepped closer, drawn to the glow despite every instinct screaming at me to turn back. I had just crossed into the chamber when a low hum began to vibrate through the air. The green light flared brighter, and the voice hit me like a hammer to the skull.

“Serve me.”

The words weren’t spoken—they clawed their way into my mind, like a parasite burrowing into my thoughts. I staggered back, clutching my head as the pressure grew.

“Serve me.”

Images began flashing in my mind—kneeling before the relic, bowing, losing myself to its will. I tried to fight it, tried to push the images away, but the pressure kept building, harder and harder, until I thought my head might split open.

Then, just as I felt myself slipping, something inside me stirred.

“NO.”

The voice wasn’t mine. It was deep, guttural, and cold as death. It reverberated through me, drowning out the relic’s whispers like thunder over a whisper.

The pressure vanished instantly. My knees hit the stone floor as I gasped for air, my head pounding. The relic’s glow dimmed slightly, almost as if it were recoiling from whatever had intervened.

I wanted to believe it was my willpower that had fought back, but deep down, I knew the truth. It wasn’t me.

It was the Darkness.

The realization sent a chill through me, but before I could dwell on it, I heard movement.

The first miner stepped into the faint green glow, his silhouette hunched and lurching unnaturally. As he came closer, I saw his face—or what was left of it. His skin was pale and stretched tight over his bones, his eyes glowing with the same sickly green light as the relic. Veins pulsed across his neck and arms, black and swollen like they’d been poisoned.

He wasn’t alone.

Behind him, more miners emerged from the shadows—half a dozen at first, then a dozen, then more. They all looked the same: pale, gaunt, their eyes lifeless but filled with that eerie glow. Some carried pickaxes, others shovels, and a few had crude mining tools like crowbars and hammers. Their clothing was torn and bloodstained, their helmets cracked and barely clinging to their heads.

There were at least twenty of them.

They moved with an eerie, unnatural coordination, their heads tilting toward me in unison as the relic pulsed behind them.

“Wonderful,” I muttered, drawing my sword.

The first miner charged, swinging his pickaxe with surprising speed. I dodged to the side and countered with a slash, the edge of my blade cutting into his shoulder. He barely reacted, his glowing eyes fixed on me as he swung again.

Another miner lunged from the left, forcing me to pivot and block his shovel with my sword. The metal screeched as it slid against my blade, sparks flying. I kicked him back, but the moment he stumbled, two more miners were on me.

The fight was a blur of movement.

I ducked under a crowbar, sidestepped a pickaxe, and spun to deliver a slash that caught one miner in the chest. He dropped, only for another to take his place.

The coordination was unnerving—every time I struck one down, the others adjusted, pressing the attack. They weren’t mindless. This was something else, something deliberate.

I had no room to breathe. I summoned a second sword in my left hand, the black ooze hissing as it solidified, and swung wildly to keep the horde at bay. My stamina bar was already dipping, each movement slower than the last.

One miner lunged with a hammer, and I instinctively threw my left hand forward. The black sword in my hand compressed and launched, hardening into a dagger mid-air. It struck the miner in the chest, dropping him instantly.

I froze for a moment, staring at my hand. “Huh. That’s new.”

Another miner swung at me, forcing me to block and snap back into the fight.

The fight dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. The room was chaos—miners swarming from every angle, their tools clanging against my sword and armor. My health bar dipped dangerously low, and my arms felt like lead, but I kept moving.

I used everything I had: dodging, parrying, summoning daggers to throw, even activating Shadowform when the pressure became too much. The black flames engulfed me, doubling my strength and speed as I carved through the horde.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the last miner fell.

I stood there, panting, my vision blurry and my body trembling from exhaustion. The relic pulsed faintly behind me, its light weaker now, almost flickering.

Without hesitating, I turned and staggered toward it. Gripping my sword tightly, I raised it high and brought it down with every ounce of strength I had left.

The relic shattered, the green light exploding outward in a blinding flash. When the glow faded, the chamber was silent.

But the chill of the Darkness lingered in my chest, a quiet reminder that I wasn’t free of it. Not yet. And maybe not ever.

I leaned heavily on my sword, the blade sunk into the stone floor where the relic had shattered. My breath came in shallow gasps, each one burning in my chest. The air around me was still thick with the tension of the fight, even though the chamber was silent now, save for the faint drip of water echoing somewhere in the distance.

I looked down at the shattered remains of the relic. The black orb had splintered into hundreds of pieces, the sickly green glow completely extinguished. The cracks in the stone pedestal where it had sat still shimmered faintly, but the oppressive hum of its energy was gone.

“Thirty miners,” I muttered to myself, scanning the room for any sign of survivors.

There were none.

The miners, now lifeless and pale, lay scattered around the chamber, their crude tools lying beside them. Without the relic’s influence, they looked... normal. Gaunt and malnourished, yes, but they weren’t monsters anymore. They were just bodies. People who’d been caught in something far beyond their understanding.

I felt a pang of guilt settle in my chest. I’d killed them, but what else could I have done? They weren’t themselves anymore, their minds stolen by the relic. Maybe they were already gone the moment they touched it, but that didn’t make it easier.

“You couldn’t save them,” I whispered, trying to convince myself. “You did what you had to do.”

The words felt hollow.

I stumbled toward the tunnel I’d crawled through earlier, my body screaming in protest with every step. My torch had gone out at some point during the fight, leaving me to rely on the faint glow of my Shadowform, which still flickered weakly around my arms and shoulders. I could feel my stamina bar crawling back up, but it was slow—painfully slow.

As I reached the tunnel entrance, I paused to take one last look at the chamber. The relic was gone, the fight was over, but the room still felt wrong, like it didn’t belong in this world.

What had the miners been digging for when they found this place? What was the relic, really? It wasn’t like my corruption—at least, not exactly. The darkness inside me had rejected it, but why? Was the relic part of the same force that had tainted me, or was it something entirely different?

And that voice. The one that had shattered the relic’s control over me. It hadn’t been my willpower that saved me—it was the Darkness.

I belonged to it. And it wasn’t going to let anyone else claim me.

The thought sent a chill down my spine as I turned away and started crawling back through the narrow tunnel, dragging my exhausted body out of the chamber.

When I finally emerged back into the main mine shaft, the air felt lighter. The oppressive weight that had hung over the quarry was gone, lifted with the destruction of the relic. Even the silence felt different—less suffocating, more natural.

I slumped against the wall, letting myself slide down to the ground. My body ached, and my hands were trembling from exhaustion, but I was alive.

I pulled up my status screen, more out of habit than anything else.

Level Up!

You are now Level 8.

New Ability Gained: Shadow Dagger

You can launch a condensed dagger of shadow from your palm. Damage scales with Dexterity. Consumes stamina.

I closed the screen with a tired chuckle. “Shadow Dagger, huh? Guess I’ll take it.”

My health bar was dangerously low, my stamina barely a sliver, but I was still here. Barely.

The climb back to the surface was slow. Every step felt like dragging a mountain as I leaned heavily on the wall for support. The pale light of the surface grew brighter with each turn of the tunnel, and when I finally stepped out into the open air, I almost fell to my knees in relief.

The quarry was just as silent as before, but now the air felt clean, the oppressive hum of the relic’s energy no longer pressing down on me.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty expanse of rock and platforms, the weight of the fight settling heavily on my shoulders. Thirty miners were gone, their bodies lying lifeless in that cursed chamber. I couldn’t save them, but at least no one else would suffer the same fate.

I started walking, leaving the quarry behind me, the distant treeline marking the way back to the city.

The journey back was slow, every step a reminder of how close I’d come to death. I had plenty of time to think, though thinking wasn’t exactly comforting.

The relic wasn’t like me. The Darkness inside me was something entirely different, and whatever force had tainted me, it didn’t want to share. The thought of belonging to something—of being claimed—sent a wave of unease through me. The Darkness wasn’t protecting me out of kindness or some moral code. It had defended me because I was its.

“Great,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head. “I’m a damn trophy for some eldritch shadow.”

But the question remained: what was the relic, and why had it been here? Was it part of something bigger? Just another piece of a puzzle I didn’t even know I was solving? Or was it just a random artifact, a leftover fragment of some ancient past?

Whatever it was, it had nearly killed me. And something told me it wasn’t the last time I’d see something like it.

When I finally reached the city gates, I felt like I might collapse. The guards let me through without a word, though one of them gave me a long, puzzled look, probably wondering why I looked like I’d been through hell.

I didn’t stop at the inn. Didn’t stop for food or water. I just made my way back to my room, slumped onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

The miners were gone. The relic was destroyed. And I was still alive.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in over my head. That this world—this system—was far more dangerous than I’d ever imagined.

And somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I felt the Darkness stir, quiet but ever-present, waiting for its next move.