The first thing Rin noticed was the silence. It was not the serene quiet of a peaceful world but the oppressive stillness of one long abandoned by hope. The crimson-tinged sky above loomed ominously, casting eerie shadows over the decaying remnants of what once might have been a grand estate.

He stood in the ruins of a once-great hall, its walls cracked and its floors littered with debris. Fragments of shattered columns jutted out like broken teeth, and the faded remnants of an elaborate crest—two intertwining ash trees—adorned the farthest wall.

Rin staggered forward, his legs weak and unsteady. His body ached, as though it carried the weight of lifetimes, yet it was new, unfamiliar. He looked down at his hands—pale, calloused, and trembling slightly. This body felt younger, unscarred by the trials he remembered, yet a faint mark on his left wrist caught his eye. It was a small sigil, faintly glowing with the same runic patterns as the fragment of the Eternal Chronicle in his hand.

The artifact whispered incessantly, its words indecipherable but laced with urgency.

“Where am I?” Rin muttered, his voice hoarse.

"The Ashveil Estate," the fragment answered, its tone cold and devoid of emotion.

Rin frowned. The name stirred something in the recesses of his mind, a flicker of recognition buried beneath the fog of unfamiliar memories.

“Ashveil… my name?”

The fragment offered no response, and Rin’s frustration simmered. Shaking off the disorientation, he took a tentative step forward, his boots crunching against shards of broken glass. He approached the tattered crest on the wall, running his fingers over its rough surface.

"You are the last of a broken lineage," the fragment whispered. "A forgotten heir to a fallen dynasty. This place is both your heritage and your burden."

Rin’s fingers curled into a fist, his nails digging into his palm. He didn’t need cryptic riddles; he needed answers.

“Why am I here? What do you want from me?” he demanded.

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The fragment pulsed once, a faint light illuminating the darkened hall.

"Survive."

The word hung in the air like a death sentence.

Before Rin could press further, a sudden noise shattered the stillness. A faint rustling, followed by the low growl of something primal. He turned sharply, his heart racing as the sound grew closer.

From the shadows emerged a creature—a grotesque amalgamation of sinew and bone. Its eyes glowed a sickly green, and its elongated limbs ended in jagged claws. The creature's form was twisted, as if it had been forcibly reshaped by an unnatural hand.

Instinct screamed at Rin to run, but his feet remained rooted to the spot. The creature sniffed the air, its head snapping toward him with unnerving precision.

"You are being watched," the fragment whispered. "Prove your worth."

The creature lunged.

Rin barely dodged, his body moving on sheer adrenaline. He stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the creature’s claws as they raked through the air with a hiss.

His eyes darted around the ruined hall, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. Spotting a rusted blade partially buried in the rubble, he dove for it, grabbing the hilt and pulling it free. The weapon was heavy, its edge dulled by time, but it would have to do.

The creature snarled, circling him like a predator toying with its prey. Rin tightened his grip on the blade, his mind racing. He had no training, no combat experience—or so he thought. But as the creature lunged again, a flicker of memory surfaced.

He stepped to the side, his body moving fluidly, and slashed upward. The blade connected, slicing into the creature’s flank. It howled in pain, ichor dripping from the wound.

The satisfaction was short-lived. The creature retaliated with a ferocious swipe, knocking Rin off balance. He hit the ground hard, the sword slipping from his grasp.

As the creature loomed over him, its jaws opening to reveal rows of jagged teeth, something within Rin stirred—a surge of energy, raw and untamed. His hand instinctively reached for the fragment, its runes glowing brighter as he gripped it.

A single word echoed in his mind.

"Rewrite."

The world seemed to slow, the creature frozen mid-attack. Rin’s vision blurred, replaced by a cascade of possibilities—a dozen outcomes, each ending in his death. But among the chaos, he glimpsed one thread, faint but unbroken.

Focusing on the thread, he willed it into reality. Time snapped back into place, and Rin rolled to the side just as the creature’s claws struck where he had been moments before.

Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the sword and plunged it into the creature’s exposed side with all his strength. The blade sank deep, and the creature let out a guttural screech before collapsing in a heap.

Panting, Rin stumbled back, his hands shaking. The fragment pulsed faintly in his hand, its whispers subsiding.

“Rewrite…” Rin murmured, the word heavy with meaning. The power was exhilarating, yet it left him drained, his body trembling from the strain.

Before he could process what had happened, the fragment spoke again.

"This is only the beginning. Others will come."

The ominous warning sent a shiver down his spine. He looked around the ruined hall, the reality of his situation sinking in. He was alone, unarmed save for a rusted sword, and hunted by creatures far beyond his understanding.

But as fear threatened to consume him, Rin clenched his fist.

“I won’t fall here,” he said, his voice steady despite the odds. “If this is my heritage, then I’ll claim it. If this is my burden, then I’ll bear it.”

The fragment pulsed in approval, its light dimming as it settled into silence.

Rin stepped out of the ruined hall, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily on his shoulders. Somewhere in the distance, a faint light flickered, beckoning him forward.

The forgotten heir had taken his first step.