Why does a person choose to be an adventurer?

Some say it’s for the thrill—the idea of finding treasure, gaining power, and carving a name into history. Others say it’s about escaping the dull, quiet life they were born into, hoping to make something of themselves. Some do it for glory, while others do it because they’ve already lost everything else.

Tavian, with his quiet strength and natural leadership, had once said, “We choose this life because we seek something more than just surviving. It’s about proving we can face the darkness, and maybe—just maybe—find light in it.”

He had believed that.

But now, watching Tavian’s body crumple under Obrak’s cruel, blood-soaked axe, Alistair couldn’t help but question those words. Did Tavian die trying to prove something? Was it worth it?

I didn’t hesitate. My sword was already in my hand, and before I could think, I was charging at Obrak, the anger fueling my every move.

Clang, swishh, swoshh. I could hear Bram attacking beside me, but I couldn’t focus on him right now.

Obrak laughed, that mocking tone ringing in my ears. “You think you can take me down? You’re nothing but kids playing soldier.”

His axe whistled through the air as he parried my strike, effortlessly knocking my sword aside. I tried to regain my stance, but then I heard the sickening thud of Bram’s body hitting the tree with a force that made the leaves shake. My heart skipped a beat. He was down.

“Bram!” I shouted, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Obrak. He was too fast, too strong.

“Is that your friend?” Obrak mocked. “What a shame.” He turned his focus back to me, his grin widening.

He stepped closer, the smell of blood thick in the air, and his eyes gleamed with a sadistic satisfaction.

“I’ve got to admit, kid,” Obrak said, circling me like a predator. “You’ve got guts. Most people would’ve given up by now. But you—” He leaned in, his voice lowering to a cold whisper. “You keep fighting. Why?”

I didn’t answer, not because I didn’t know, but because saying it out loud would make it too real. I had nothing left. My friends were falling, and yet I still couldn’t stop fighting.

“Determination, huh?” He chuckled, a dark glint in his eyes. “That’s what keeps you going? It won’t save you.”

I raised my sword again, ignoring the exhaustion weighing on my body. I couldn’t stop. Not now.

"Come on then," I muttered, more to myself than to him. "Let’s see if you’re right."

But inside, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

He wasn’t even taking me seriously anymore. Each blow, each swipe, felt more like a test for him than a battle. He was enjoying this, toying with me.

I could feel his smirk even though I couldn’t look up from the fury of his strikes. His movements were so fluid, so natural, that it was impossible to keep up.

“You’re fast, I’ll give you that,” Obrak said, his voice full of mockery. “But not fast enough.”

His axe came down in a diagonal slash, and I barely managed to parry it. The sheer force of it sent a shockwave through my arms, making me stumble.

"You're too slow," he continued, almost like he was lecturing me. "Let me explain my weapon to you. Maybe it’ll make things easier when you die." He swung the axe again, almost lazily.

I barely blocked it, my sword clashing against the red axe. The impact sent a sharp pain up my arm.

“This,” he said, holding the axe in front of him like it was a prized possession, “is no ordinary weapon as you are aware. A gift from the gods, if you will. It feeds on blood, your blood.” He leaned in, his voice low, dark. “Every life it takes makes it stronger. And every kill I make, I get closer to perfection.”

I barely heard him.

I was too focused on surviving. His words didn’t matter. His arrogance didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was keeping my feet on the ground, keeping my sword in my hand.

But it was hard. So hard.

I dodged his next swing, but the wind from his blade cut across my cheek. I stepped back, trying to catch my breath, but Obrak wasn’t giving me any space. He closed in, faster than I could react.

“You won’t last much longer,” he said, his voice almost soothing, like a lullaby before death.

I lifted my sword, trying to defend myself, but it was futile. The gap between us was too wide.

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And then, in a flash of crimson, I felt it.

His axe sliced across my abdomen with an almost casual motion, the sharp edge cutting through my clothes, my skin, my flesh. The pain was immediate, hot, burning, as blood poured from the wound.

I gasped, stumbling back, but before I could even regain my balance, he kicked me hard in the chest. My body flew through the air, crashing into a rock with a sickening thud. My head hit the stone, and for a moment, everything went dark.

It was like a flashback.

I had been here before, hadn’t I? Not in this exact place, but in a dungeon, a lifetime ago. I had been Elian then. I had fought like this, trying to survive against the impossible odds, just like now. And then, I had died.

The familiar feeling washed over me—blood in my mouth, the darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. My head was spinning. This was it, wasn’t it? The end.

I could feel the cold seep into my body, my senses fading. The world around me became a blur.

This was the moment. The moment I had died before.

But then, something stirred deep inside me.

A part of me refused to give up. It wasn’t the physical pain that drove me—it was something else. I had lost too much already. I had fought too hard. I wasn’t ready to go out like this.

“Not again,”

The world spun, and I fought to hold onto consciousness. My body felt like it was on fire, but I couldn’t just let it end. Not now. Not when I had come so far.

Obrak stood over me, his grin wide, savoring every second of my suffering.

“You’re pathetic,” he spat.

I couldn’t stand up.

I couldn’t fight anymore. My blades lay a few feet away, too far for me to reach.

I wasn’t dead yet. And I wasn’t going to die like this.

I felt my consciousness slipping again, the weight of blood and pain pulling me deeper into the dark. Every breath was a struggle, and I couldn’t even tell if I was still breathing properly. My body was numb, a dull ache in my chest, my abdomen. Every part of me seemed to scream for me to just give in, to let it all fade away.

But then, I saw him.

Obrak. He was moving toward Bram.

Bram was on his feet—barely. He stumbled, his sword shaking in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, his body trembling, but he wasn’t backing down. Not yet. He was still fighting.

I wanted to yell, to warn him, but I could barely manage a breath, let alone a shout. My arm felt heavy, like it was made of stone. But somehow, I raised it. A weak gesture, my fingers barely moving.

I tried to signal him to stop, to run, to get away from Obrak, but he didn’t see it. He was too focused on Obrak, too focused on the battle.

And then, the sound of steel clashing with steel rang through the air. I could hear it clearly even through the haze.

Clang

Swishh

Thud.

Obrak’s laugh echoed in my ears, like the sound of nails on a chalkboard, grating and mocking. "Is that all you've got?" Obrak taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. "You're pathetic, just like the rest of them."

The sickening sound of steel slashing against flesh followed. Bram’s grunt of pain.

I couldn’t see much anymore, just blurry shapes and shadows. My vision was failing, everything blending into a mist.

But I could still hear them—Bram’s heavy breaths, his desperate attempts to defend himself, the cruel mocking laugh of Obrak.

I wanted to move. I wanted to fight, to help him, but I was too weak.

I was so weak.

The pain was unbearable, and yet, the worst part wasn’t the wound on my side, the blood dripping from my body. No, it was the feeling of helplessness, of knowing I couldn’t do anything.

Then, my vision wavered again, and I turned my head.

The sight before me made my stomach twist.

Tavian’s body. His lifeless eyes stared at nothing, his torso sliced open, his limbs contorted in unnatural angles. His blood was still fresh on the ground, staining the earth beneath him.

It was a nightmare.

I almost threw up right there, the sickening reality of it washing over me. Tavian. Tavian was dead. And all I could do was lay here, my body useless, unable to avenge him.

I could feel the bile rising in my throat, the world spinning faster. My body felt so heavy, like I was drowning in it. The sight of Tavian, the bodies around me, it all felt like a cruel joke.

And the worst part? I couldn’t escape it.

I shifted my gaze again. Dead bodies. More of them. The carnage surrounding me.

Bram was still fighting. Still standing. But for how long? How long before Obrak took him down too?

I had to do something. I had to fight back. But I couldn’t even stand. My body felt like it was breaking down.

I couldn’t let it end like this. Not like this.

Every breath felt like a battle. Every heartbeat was a struggle. But there had to be a way. There had to be something I could do.

I could still feel it. That burning determination inside me. It was there, deep down, buried beneath the pain, beneath the overwhelming exhaustion.

Then.

Everything went black.

It wasn’t like falling asleep or anything peaceful. It wasn’t quiet or still. It was like a void, a complete absence of anything. My body, my thoughts, everything just... vanished.

But I could still feel it. A gnawing sense of awareness, as though my consciousness was still there, floating in this empty space. The weight of everything—my failures, my mistakes, my wounds—crushed me. I didn’t want to face it. Didn’t want to accept it. But I couldn’t escape it either.

And then, a voice.

It pierced through the silence.

[You are an idiot. You have this system, and you’ve fucking just lazily slain the weakest monsters, not even using it to your advantage. What the hell is wrong with you?]

I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t even comprehend what was happening.

[I'm not giving you a second chance. You deserve to die right now.]

Was this it? Was this how it ended?

But the voice didn’t stop.

[But then you are lucky enough... there’s a mission you have to complete. I'm afraid. . You need to eliminate more of these fuckers who use relics in a demonic way.]

[It means you gotta surrender your dream of becoming a pathetic adventurer.]

The voice... it felt like it was coming from all around me, inside me.

[I'm afraid I must let you borrow my power.]

Borrow?

I couldn’t understand what was happening. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

But that voice—this voice...

[I’m giving you this chance because you're too stupid to realize it yourself.]

I could feel it in my blood.

[This isn’t a gift. It’s a curse.]

A strange, dark energy filled me, wrapping around me like chains, tightening and electrifying every fiber of my being. For a moment, I thought I might explode from the force of it.

I wanted to scream, but no sound came. My body was shaking, convulsing as something dark, something raw, began to fill every corner of my mind. This wasn’t just power. It was wrong.

It felt... dangerous.

[BlackOut]

[You are now on a blackout mode]

You transform into a formless dark entity, existing solely as a shadow, untethered to physical form.