I touched the urn with reverent gentleness, feeling the rhythmic pulse of magic in my pocket, where my wand vibrated in response. The urn’s surface was covered in ancient runes, meticulously engraved and bound to the altar by thick chains that gleamed with a sinister glow. Everything in this place radiated a dark, primal power, as if every inch of stone and metal held the essence of countless battles and sacrifices.
As I examined the urn, something made me pause: signs of a struggle etched into the very altar—shadowy remnants of a conflict as old as Profundia itself. My heart pounded as I realized what this meant. My ancestor, the one who had created this seal, had fought with a titanic force to imprison whatever lay within this urn. “What kind of power did it take to seal something so terrible?” I wondered, feeling a chill run down my spine.
I bent down a bit more, catching sight of a detail at the urn’s base—a hidden inscription, carved in stone with a coded script of runes I could barely decipher. My mind flashed back to days of training, when my mother would force me to spend hours tracing runes on enchanted scrolls. At the time, I hadn’t understood her insistence, but now, those lessons held a clear purpose. The runes began to form words in my mind, a dark and enigmatic message:
> “In this sanctuary lies the sword of broken dreams. I have sealed its power so that hope may endure. Whoever frees it shall unleash a chaos that consumes all but the dreams it has preserved. Do you dare to play with fate?”
A shiver ran through me, as if the essence of those words seeped into my soul. The weight of what I was about to release became even more apparent, but before I could fully process their meaning, Vesper’s voice interrupted, his tone sharp with impatience and threat.
“Kaion! Your time is running out!” he snapped, his voice like a knife.
I was sick of his threats, his arrogance, and his utter lack of understanding about what was truly at stake. I drew my wand, holding it firmly in my hand as I turned to face him.
“I’ll do it, Vesper,” I replied, my voice heavy with weariness and resolve. “But that thing”—I gestured toward the Deathweaver, still weaving its mana threads in the air—“won’t let me concentrate. If you want me to break the seal, keep it away from me.”
Vesper frowned, annoyed, but finally relented. He gestured with his staff, and the Deathweaver withdrew a few paces, though its many eyes remained fixed on me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Now, I had a bit more room to breathe, but time was still against me.
“Now or never,” I told myself as I began to trace the runes around the urn. The wand moved with a guided precision, completing the unfinished runes encircling the seal. As I progressed, a realization struck me like lightning: the runes weren’t complete.
“It’s a puzzle,” I thought, feeling a glimmer of hope. “The runes are designed to look broken, but if I complete them correctly, I’ll unlock what’s trapped here.”
Each stroke felt vaguely familiar, as though I had seen these runes before, but I couldn’t remember where. The runes were arranged in a pattern only someone with a deep knowledge of runic magic could understand. Like a missing key in a complex code, all I needed to do was complete the set of runes my ancestor had left half-finished.
The paralytic venom in my body grew stronger with every passing second, and the destructive energy emanating from the urn swirled around me like a vortex, threatening to pull me in. I felt dizzy, my vision blurring, but I forced myself to keep going. I knew I was close to solving the puzzle.
When I traced the final rune, the world seemed to stop for an instant. Absolute silence filled the cavern, and then a voice rang in my mind, strong and resonant, as if from the depths of the abyss.
“Why have you decided to free me?” The voice took me by surprise, but I quickly understood it was the entity sealed within the urn. Despite the situation, an ironic smile crossed my face.
“I’d rather have an honorable death at the hands of a legendary being, sealed by my own ancestor, than die at the hands of a cowardly, treacherous old man,” I replied, my tone defiant.
The presence in my mind let out a deep, resonant laugh that vibrated in my chest like a war drum.
“Why do you assume I will kill you?” the entity asked, its voice laced with genuine curiosity.
I hesitated, surprised by the question, and replied with ironic honesty:
“I’ve been near death for almost two days. All I want is to go home and rest.”
The entity laughed again, but this time its tone was warm, almost kind.
“Then rest easy, Kaion. I’ll take care of everything.”
Before I could process what I had just heard, the chains binding the urn shattered with a deafening crack, sinking into the lake as if pulled by an irresistible force. The seal in the middle of the urn began to fracture, emitting a blinding light, and I felt my energy drain away. The world became hazy, and as everything faded, the last thing I saw was Vesper, shocked, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
I collapsed to the ground, unconscious, as darkness enveloped me, yet with an odd sense of peace, knowing that I had released something Vesper could never control.
The cavern’s atmosphere grew stifling, charged with a nearly palpable tension. Vesper, who had been shouting threats at Kaion, finally realized the young man wasn’t moving. His fury faded just as the chains binding the urn fell with a hollow clang, sinking into the dark lake. The sound echoed through the cavern, and then… silence.
An eerie silence, broken only by the faint drip of water from stalactites above. Vesper stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. “Could the treasure… not be real?” he thought, a torrent of doubt flooding his mind. The urn, the very center of this dangerous endeavor, lay shattered, its contents lost in darkness. His heart raced with fury, and cold sweat covered his brow.
Then, something changed. The Deathweaver, that fearful, stealthy creature that had been his faithful guardian, began to panic. Its many eyes, usually cold and calculating, showed a flash of fear. Without warning, the creature retreated, scrabbling up the rocky walls and desperately clawing at the cavern’s ceiling, trying to escape. It was as if it had sensed a predator, something more terrifying than itself.
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The Edict of Destruction’s energy filled the air like an invisible tide, exerting an oppressive pressure on everyone present. Vesper felt as if the air were being sucked from his lungs, his legs trembling under the weight of that incomprehensible force. He tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, his throat dry. His eyes, now wide with fear, frantically searched for the creature. Just then, a flash swept across the cavern, followed by a swift, slicing sound.
The Deathweaver, which had been such a threat to Kaion, was cut in two with deadly precision. The creature’s two halves fell heavily to the ground, its thick, greenish blood spreading into a nauseating puddle, soon consumed by a strange, eerie glow emanating from the perfect cut. The destructive energy, a color somewhere between yellow and red, devoured what remained of the creature, reducing it to ashes. Vesper couldn’t believe what he was seeing: one of the area’s strongest beasts reduced to nothing in mere seconds.
Time seemed to stop for Vesper as he witnessed the slaughter. The cut was so perfect, so precise, that even the cruel Edict of Destruction seemed like an act of macabre art. The creature had died so quickly it hadn’t had time to react or feel anything. Cold sweat ran down his back, fear taking hold of every fiber of his being. “What… what is this?” he thought, feeling his life slipping out of control.
The soft sound of wind chimes broke the terrifying silence, filling the air with an ethereal and disturbing melody. Vesper spun around, his heart pounding in his ears, searching for the source of the sound. And there, beside Kaion’s unconscious body, appeared a figure that looked like something out of a nightmare or an ancient fairytale.
It was a woman, elegant and deadly at once. She wore a black kimono adorned with intricate embroidery, merging the softness of the fabric with light armor that only added to her elegance. At her waist rested a beautifully ornamented katana, its silhouette reflecting a light that didn’t seem to come from any visible source. Her kasa hat was adorned with tiny wind chimes, whose soft tinkling contrasted with the tension in the cavern. Half her face was covered by a mask, leaving only a glimpse of stunning features and eyes that sparkled with cold intensity.
image [https://i.postimg.cc/CMX61J4B/Whats-App-Image-2024-08-29-at-01-05-09-2.jpg]
Vesper felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of this woman. Her presence wasn’t just terrifying; it was profoundly enigmatic. Every movement she made, every slight tilt of her body, radiated utter contempt for the creature she had just killed.
“Pathetic,” the woman said in a firm voice, her icy tone dripping with authority and disdain. “Such an insignificant creature, yet you dared to disturb the slumber of a superior being.”
Vesper, barely able to breathe under the weight of the Edict’s energy, tried to back away, his legs trembling. He wanted to respond, to say something, but the woman’s voice had paralyzed him. He hadn’t faced anyone with an aura this dominant in centuries, and now, every instinct in his body screamed at him to flee, to abandon Kaion and this accursed place.
But before he could move a muscle, the woman took a step forward, and with it, the cavern’s pressure intensified.
“Who… who are you?” Vesper managed to say, his voice fractured by fear and disbelief.
The woman didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she leaned over Kaion slightly, placing a delicate hand on his forehead, as if assessing his condition.
“I am the one you, in your arrogance, have awakened,” she finally replied, her voice low but so laden with power that it echoed off the cavern walls. “And I have decided that this boy will live, for he now belongs to me.”
Vesper took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. The woman’s overwhelming presence terrified him, but his pride and knowledge of Profundia’s laws pushed him to make a final attempt to regain control of the situation.
“I am Vesper of Draconia, one of these lands’ ancient guardians,” he said, forcing his voice to sound steady. “According to Profundia’s laws, whoever finds an Abyssal Treasure becomes its rightful owner. You, great treasure of the past, owe me obedience.”
The silence following his statement was almost unbearable. The woman remained still, her face partially obscured by her mask, and then, to his surprise, she began to laugh. It was a soft, almost musical laugh, but it was filled with mockery, with a disdain that shattered Vesper’s pride like glass.
“Obedience?” she repeated, her voice laced with amusement. “You think that simply finding a treasure entitles you to its power? Such a limited… and pathetic perspective.”
Vesper felt a chill creep down his spine but tried to maintain his composure.
“Profundia’s laws are clear…” he began, but the woman interrupted, her tone hardening, leaving no room for his arguments.
“The laws of mortals and insignificant beings like you hold no power here,” she said, with an air of superiority that made Vesper feel his very existence was absurd in comparison. “Finding an Abyssal Treasure is not the same as freeing it. That’s a distinction that seems beyond your understanding. You did not free me, old man. The only reason you’re still breathing is because I have not yet decided to destroy you. And if you persist in your delusions, I may change my mind.”
The woman’s words froze him. The reality of his insignificance before her struck him with overwhelming force. His authority, his years of wisdom—everything seemed to crumble before this figure, who regarded him as if he were an insect she could crush at any moment.
Vesper tried to speak, to say something that might regain control of the situation, but the words died in his throat. All he could do was stand there, staring at the woman who had mocked his ambitions, his pride, and who now looked at him with palpable contempt.
The cavern, once a place full of promise and treasures, now felt like a place of condemnation—a judgment he had lost without even knowing how.
Satisfied with Vesper’s silence, the woman turned toward Kaion, her interest in the old man already completely gone. With one last glance of disdain toward him, she raised her katana gracefully and, in a soft but dangerous voice, added:
“Remember this, old man: not all treasures are meant to be possessed. Some exist only to destroy those who seek them.”
Vesper didn’t reply. His mind was trapped in a cycle of fear and humiliation. Seeing the woman walk away, he gulped and whispered with what little voice he had left:
“Are… are you one of the Blade Lords…?”
The woman, still half-shrouded by her mask, looked at him coldly, absolute contempt reflected in her gaze.
“You are not worthy of knowing who I am,” she replied, her voice dripping with frigid disdain. “You are the kind of being I despise most in this world—someone who preys on the weak, using underhanded tricks for his own ends.”
Her words cut deeper than he cared to admit. But Vesper wouldn’t be intimidated. His face twisted in a snarl as he raised his staff, which began to glow with a sinister, dark light. His voice reverberated through the cavern as he shouted with fervor:
“I do all this for a greater cause! All for and by my great master! Glory to the Eternal Void!”
The glow of his staff intensified as he invoked the power of the Edict of Destruction. Vesper summoned the surrounding Deathweavers to the nest, a small army assembling behind him—of various sizes, though none matched the might of the one slain by the mysterious woman. He watched them gather, then turned his gaze defiantly back to her.
“If you don’t submit now, I’ll use all my power and these creatures to destroy you. No matter how many you kill, I have many more awaiting orders,” he threatened. “Then, I’ll raze the village in the name of the Eternal Void.”
The woman stood unmoving, observing the scene with palpable disdain. But when she heard the words “Eternal Void,” her expression changed to one of even greater mockery and contempt.
“Pitiful,” she said, her voice filled with absolute disdain. “A wielder of my very element, devoted to such a miserable being. You’re truly pitiful.”
Vesper, though enraged, tried to maintain his composure. Then, the woman stepped forward, positioning herself in front of Kaion’s unconscious body, her katana resting at her waist.
image [https://i.postimg.cc/L4x2bd2d/Whats-App-Image-2024-08-29-at-01-05-09-1-1.jpg]
“I’ll put you to the test, old man,” she said, her tone cold and calculating. “If you can guess the color of my sword’s blade when I use my drawing technique, I will swear you my obedience. But if you fail… you die.”
Vesper’s heart skipped a beat. The woman’s confidence and calm demeanor unnerved him, but he couldn’t afford to show weakness.