The void surrounds you, an overwhelming absence of everything. There is no sound, no sight, no scent, no taste. You are nothing, just as the emptiness that cradles you is nothing.
But then, a whisper, more instinct than voice, echoes through the void:
Lift your head, child. Wonder. Discover what it means to be alive, or in your case, what it means to be Forsaken.
Time loses meaning as you drift, suspended in eternity. You have no sense of self, no anchor to reality. Yet, something stirs within you, a flicker of curiosity, the first emotion you've felt since your eyes fluttered open.
Are your eyes open? You can't be sure. You don't know if you're blind or if the endless whiteness around you truly swallows everything.
The urge to move grips you. You twist, turn, struggle against the weightlessness. Control eludes you at first, your efforts are clumsy, chaotic. But you persist. The flailing gives way to something more deliberate. It's far from graceful, but it works.
You move forward.
You once drifted aimlessly, weightless and purposeless. Now you can move, though direction still eludes you. Why do you keep moving? Perhaps because it stirs something deep inside, a flicker of sensation, the first hint of what might be "feeling."
What is "feeling"? The question gnaws at you. You can't answer it, but the need to understand drives you forward. It will come to you, child, just wait. Be patient.
Then, a shift. The space around you changes. You feel something new, a presence, faint but undeniable. Your body reacts instinctively, a strange familiarity tugging at your core. What is it? Why does it feel so… known?
Compelled, you move toward it. The sensation grows stronger, more insistent, as if it's calling to you. And then you realize, it is calling to you. Not with words, but with your name.
Before you, something takes shape. It glimmers faintly, fractured and incomplete, like the shattered remnant of something once whole.
You kneel, drawn to it, your hands outstretched. Carefully, you reach for the fragment. As your fingers near it, it rises, hovering just above your palm. The connection feels profound, like a part of yourself you never knew was missing.
A warmth spreads through you, unfamiliar yet comforting. The endless white encasing your body begins to crack, splintering apart to reveal warm, brown skin beneath. For the first time, you hear something other than silence, the wild rush of wind, chaotic and untamed, roaring past you.
"Ebon."
The sound echoes in your mind, a name, your name. At first clear, it repeats, over and over, each time losing coherence until it becomes a jumbled cacophony, impossible to understand. But one truth stands firm: I am Ebon.
As that realization takes hold, the void around you responds. Cracks form in the whiteness, spreading violently like shattering glass. Then it collapses entirely, breaking away in a flash as you are cast into freefall.
Raw, unfiltered fear surges through you. The wind tears at your body, whipping through your hair as the ground rushes up to meet you.
Below, you see it, a wooden cage, part of a carriage, hurtling closer and closer. Instinct screams that impact will bring unbearable pain, but as you crash through the cage with a deafening crack, there's… nothing.
No pain.
Just the strange sensation of arrival.
I jolted awake, my eyes snapping open as I shot upright. Voices erupted around me
"He's awake!"
"The boy lived!"
The shouts blended together, a chaotic mix of astonishment and relief. Moments ago, I was falling, hurtling through the air. Now, I was here, in a cage. Faces surrounded me, their features diverse and strange. Some weren't even human.
What is human... Am I human?
I glanced down. Shackles bound my wrists and ankles, the cold metal biting into my skin.
A heavy thud drew my attention. An older man approached, his frame broad and strong, his movements deliberate. A long, bushy tail tipped with white swayed behind him as he dropped heavily beside me.
"When they dragged you in here, we thought you were already dead." His voice was rough but not unkind. "What happened to you?"
Dragged? I thought. No. I fell here.
I tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. My throat strained, and only garbled, broken sounds escaped my mouth.
The man froze, realization dawning. "S-Shit. Didn't know you were a mute. My bad, kid." His cuffed hands rose awkwardly, patting my head with a rough but surprisingly gentle touch. Then, without another word, he got up and moved to the opposite side of the cage.
Left alone, I slumped against the bars, letting the cool wood press into my back. I leaned back harder than I intended, wincing as my head struck a wooden bar with a dull thud.
But when I opened my eyes, I froze.
Something was there. Something new.
It shimmered faintly, just outside the edge of perception, as if it didn't fully belong to this world. No one else seemed to notice it.
Only me.
It was hard to describe, like a screen displaying information, yet strange and intangible. The only clear details were my name and level:
[EBON. LEVEL 1.]
I stared at it, my mind racing to make sense of what I was seeing. Time seemed to stretch as I tried to process it, my thoughts chasing clarity that wouldn't come. Curiosity took over, and I reached out to touch it.
The people around me began to stare. Their eyes bore into me, curious and uneasy, making my skin prickle with discomfort. Embarrassed, I leaned back against the bars, pulling away from their gaze.
The carriage jolted over a bump in the road, the sudden motion sending everyone briefly into the air. I braced myself for the landing. It wasn't a hard fall, but when I opened my eyes, the screen was gone, vanished, as if it had never been there.
A new sensation clawed at my senses. The air had turned foul, thick with the stench of rot. The smell was overwhelming, like decay lingering far too long in the sun. Around me, the others recoiled, covering their noses with whatever they could. I quickly followed, pulling the tattered rags I wore over my face to shield myself from the nauseating odor.
The carriage jolted again, this time more violently. The sudden lurch threw us around the cage like discarded refuse. My hands scrambled for the bars, desperate for some sense of stability.
The smell grew stronger, oppressive, as though the air itself was rotting.
By the looks on everyone's faces, tight with fear and unease, it was clear I was the only one who didn't understand what was happening.
The carriage creaked as it slowed to a stop, the sudden stillness only amplifying the tension. From the front of the caravan, two men emerged, walking with an air of authority that made the others shrink back.
Each carried a curved weapon, its wicked edge glistening with some kind of liquid that reeked of lethality. I didn't need to touch it to know, it felt wrong, as if even the air around it was poisoned.
Whispers broke out around me, faint but urgent. The name "Khopesh Brothers" was repeated in hushed tones. I couldn't tell if it referred to the men themselves or the weapons they wielded.
The brothers barked something in a harsh, guttural language I didn't understand. Their voices cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and demanding. Whatever they said, the others understood immediately, raising their cuffed hands for inspection.
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I hesitated for only a moment before mimicking them, lifting my shackled wrists into view. Whatever this was, I couldn't afford to stand out.
The brothers stared at us, their piercing eyes the only visible part of them beneath their black, head-to-toe coverings.
One raised his weapon, a silent, menacing reminder. while the other unlocked the cage. The door creaked open, and we filed out in a slow, somber line, every step heavy with tension.
The ground was unforgiving. Pebbles and jagged sticks jabbed at my bare feet, each step uncomfortable and raw. But I kept moving, my resolve hardening as I saw what happened to those who didn't.
The last person who broke formation didn't get a warning. A flash of steel, swift and merciless, and her head hit the ground with a sickening thud. Blood pooled beneath her body, mingling with the stench of rot that hung thick in the air.
I swallowed hard, forcing my legs to keep moving. I won't end up like her.
My thoughts churned as we marched. What is life? And why is it so easily stolen by others, as if it means nothing?
They led us to the entrance of a cave, the air heavy with dampness and the faint metallic tang of ore. The walls shimmered faintly, speckled with shining rocks that reflected the dim light. Scattered across the ground were pickaxes, their surfaces stained with dirt and dark, dried flecks I didn't want to identify.
Without a word, the others picked up the tools and began to work, the rhythmic clang of pickaxes striking stone filling the cavern. I hesitated for a moment, watching them. They moved like they'd done this a thousand times before, resigned and mechanical.
I bent down and picked up one of the pickaxes, turning it awkwardly in my hands. The shackles on my wrists made it hard to find a comfortable grip. It felt heavy in my grasp, maybe the tool was massive, or maybe… I was just weak.
Dragging my feet, I shuffled to an empty section of the cave, away from the others. With a deep breath, I raised the pickaxe over my head and slammed it into the wall. The blow barely made a dent. I tried again. And again. The truth settled in: I am weak.
Minutes passed before I managed to chip free a single shard of the shimmering crystal embedded in the rock. It clattered to the ground, catching the dim light in a way that made it seem alive. Something about it drew me in.
I bent down, reaching for the shard. Its smooth surface glinted in my hand as I admired it.
A sudden roar of anger broke my focus. One of the brothers stomped over, shouting in that harsh, guttural language I still couldn't understand. Before I could react, his boot slammed into my side with brutal force.
I was thrown across the cave, my back slamming into the wall. Pain exploded through me, sharp and searing.
[WARNING. LOW HEALTH. 20%]
The message appeared in front of me, hovering faintly in my vision. My breath hitched as I wiped blood from the corner of my lip. One kick. That was all it took to bring me to the brink of death.
I pushed myself to my knees, the shouting continuing above me. The brother loomed over me, his voice sharp and unrelenting.
Before he could strike again, the old fox-tailed man from the carriage stepped forward. He raised his hands, speaking quickly in their strange language, his tone placating. I couldn't understand a word, but it was clear he was trying to defuse the situation.
The brothers exchanged a brief glance before raising their weapons in unison. In one swift motion, they beheaded him. He had stepped out of line.
The sound of his body collapsing to the ground echoed in the cave, but no one moved. No one dared to.
With what little strength I had, I dragged myself toward him, my hands trembling as I placed one on his chest. The system flared to life again, the message cold and emotionless:
[SKILL ACQUIRED: GLUTTONY]
I froze, staring at the words, trying to understand their meaning. Then, like a surge of lightning, a wave of power washed over me. My breath caught as I felt his vitality pour into me, his lifeforce becoming mine.
But it wasn't just his health points I had taken. My mind expanded with new knowledge, fragments of spells, incantations, the raw talent for magic that had been his. My "MP" stat, previously a meager 2, climbed to 11.
The brothers began to laugh, their cruel amusement ringing in the air. I rose unsteadily to my feet, the crystal I had mined still in my hand. I walked toward them and handed it over, the color slowly returning to my cheeks.
They stared at me for a moment, then motioned for me to continue working.
Returning to the wall, I picked up my pickaxe once more. This time, as I swung it, I felt the difference. His strength had become mine as well. My "STR" stat, previously 0, had risen to 6.
The pickaxe struck the wall with ease, shards of crystal falling to the ground. I continued to mine, silent but purposeful, the weight of my newfound power simmering beneath the surface.
Hours passed without a break. The old man's body remained where it fell, a grim reminder of the cost of disobedience. My hands were still smeared with his blood, both physically and in a way I couldn't escape, no matter how much I tried.
The brothers claimed more lives as the day dragged on. For a fleeting moment, you might forget the stench of death and focus on the rhythmic clang of pickaxes, only for the silence to shatter when another body hit the ground.
As time went on, I noticed something strange. My swings became steadier, more efficient. My mining stat had risen, making the process less taxing and draining. I started to understand this "system" better. It wasn't some magic controlling me but a visualization of my own attributes, strength, endurance, and whatever else made me… me.
But the repetitive glare of the crystals began to strain my eyes. Their light blurred as I blinked furiously, trying to clear my vision. That's when the system flared to life once more, the faint chime of a grandfather clock ringing in my head.
[ADAPTING...]
The words hovered in front of me, and then:
[SKILL ACQUIRED: APPRAISAL LEVEL 1]
When I opened my eyes again, the system had changed. The familiar information board appeared, but it wasn't showing my stats. Instead, it was focused on the crystal I had been mining.
"Craftonium."
Its name was displayed in bold letters, along with additional details. Its rarity was classed as "uncommon."
I stared at the information for a moment, processing this new ability. Appraisal… The skill let me analyze the materials around me. I felt a strange sense of accomplishment, even in this nightmare of a situation.
I glanced over my shoulder at the brothers. The system displayed their level, both were level nine. Their names floated above their heads, but I refused to acknowledge them. Names are for the living, for those who deserve the gift of life. They didn't.
If I wanted to act, to survive, I'd need more than just blind courage. I needed to gauge their stats, their weaknesses. Charging in without knowing would be suicide.
A sudden shout broke through my thoughts. This time, their guttural voices carried a sharper tone, more commanding than their usual brutish barks. The others seemed to understand and immediately dropped their pickaxes, moving to the front.
I followed their lead, unsure of what was happening. Two of the largest men among us hesitated before stepping forward. They approached the old man's lifeless body, their faces grim as they grabbed his arms and legs.
They dragged him deeper into the cave, their footsteps echoing into the darkness. Moments later, they returned, their faces pale and etched with fear.
Whatever was waiting in the depths of the cave had terrified them.
The two men returned to the group, sitting among us in silence. One of the brothers barked orders for what felt like a full minute, his voice echoing harshly off the cave walls. Then, without warning, they both turned and left, disappearing into the outside world.
Confusion settled over me. Everyone else wore fear like a second skin, their faces pale and their movements tense. A few of the larger men took deep breaths, muttering quietly to one another before gathering their courage and stepping deeper into the shadows of the cave.
One by one, the others began to follow, their footsteps hesitant and slow. Before I knew it, I was alone.
I hesitated. The oppressive silence of the cavern pressed against my chest as I shuffled forward, each step deliberate. I couldn't see anyone.
The faint drip of water echoed from somewhere ahead, amplifying the eerie stillness. The sound of my breathing filled my ears until-
A noise.
Low, rapid panting, growing louder with each passing second. It came from the darkness, fast and feral.
Then, it attacked.
A wolf-like beast burst from the shadows, its eyes glowing an unnatural crimson and its claws glinting like polished steel. It lunged at me, faster than I could react.
[RED-EYED HUNTER.]
The name hung in the air, the text glowing blood-red, seething with menace.
Instinctively, I raised my arm in defense. Its jaws clamped down, teeth sinking into flesh. The force sent me sprawling to the ground as it snarled viciously. Pain exploded in my arm, sharp and burning.
I twisted my body, using my weight to roll us over until I was on top. I shoved my arm further into its mouth, hoping to force it to release, but it only growled louder, its glowing eyes fixed on me.
With a sudden burst of strength, it kicked me off, its hind legs sending me flying. My body slammed against the cold, hard floor. Pain radiated through me as I struggled to stand, my arm bleeding freely and my breathing ragged.
The beast charged again. I barely ducked in time, scrambling toward the nearest large rock. My hands closed around its rough surface, it was heavy, unwieldy, but it was my only weapon.
I turned, lunging at the beast and slamming the rock against its skull with every ounce of strength I had. The blow staggered it, but only for a moment. Its roar echoed through the cave as it recovered, faster than I anticipated.
It pounced again, this time pinning me to the floor. Its saliva dripped onto my face as it snarled. Then, its teeth sank into my neck.
The pain was unimaginable, a searing fire that consumed me, spreading through my body like an unrelenting inferno. I gasped, choking on the agony until it was replaced by something else. Cold.
A deep, all-encompassing cold.
This must be death.
I died as I lived, weak.
[TRIAL 1.]
[FAILURE.]
[ERROR.]
[RESTARTING TRIAL.]
The words turned into my mind, the meaning sinking in like a slow, inevitable tide.
And then, I woke.
The rattling of the carriage returned to my senses. Familiar voices rang out around me.
"The boy's alive!"
"He's awake!"
The same scene. The same sounds.
I blinked, my mind reeling. I was back in the cage.