Erydan laughed, the sound deep and resonant, rolling through the chamber like a warm tide. Despite the heavy atmosphere of the Dungeon, his laughter brought a fleeting sense of lightness, a stark contrast to his translucent, ghostly form. The warmth in his voice seemed at odds with the shimmering, ethereal quality of his appearance, as though the two halves of his existence struggled to align. “A ghost? No, not exactly. I’m more of a fragment—a shadow of who I once was. My physical body is long gone, but my essence is bound to this place.”
Jack’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the words. The idea of being bound to a Dungeon was troubling enough, but the implications of what Erydan said unsettled him even more. “Bound? To the Dungeon?” he repeated, the weight of the question heavy in his voice.
“Indeed,” Erydan replied, his gaze drifting across the room. His eyes lingered on the artifacts surrounding them, their shimmering surfaces reflecting the faint, otherworldly glow of the Treasury. “But this Dungeon wasn’t always here, nor was the forest. Once, this land was home to Shudra—a magnificent city of magic and ingenuity. It was the pride of my people, a testament to the heights we Ramkin could achieve.”
Jack’s curiosity deepened. “You’re saying the Dungeon is what’s left of a city?”
Erydan inclined his head, his expression clouding with sorrow. “Yes. Shudra was once a beacon of power and knowledge, a city that stood unmatched in its achievements. I was its Archmage, entrusted with guiding its magical advancements, ensuring that our people remained at the forefront of progress. For decades, Shudra prospered, a shining example of what we Ramkin could achieve. But prosperity often invites envy, and envy often brings ruin.”
The Avatar’s features darkened, and the air around him seemed to grow heavier, as if his sorrow seeped into the very fabric of the Treasury. “Our enemies,” Erydan began, his voice grave, “those who could not bear to see Shudra thrive, conspired against us. They delved into forbidden knowledge, uncovering an Artifact of unimaginable power. It was a relic tied to the Outer Realm, a realm beyond comprehension, where chaos and unbridled energy reign. Its power was vast, chaotic, and far beyond their understanding. They brought it to Shudra, hoping to wield it against us and destroy everything we had built.”
Jack felt a chill crawl up his spine. “Did it work?” he asked, though he already suspected the answer.
“Not in the way they intended,” Erydan said, his voice heavy with regret. “The Artifact’s power was unleashed, a chaotic force that tore through reality itself. The fabric of our existence began to unravel, and our city twisted under its influence. As Archmage, it fell to me to contain this catastrophe. I devised a ritual, a desperate attempt to sever the Artifact’s connection to the Outer Realm and destroy it.”
Jack’s brows lifted. “But something went wrong, didn’t it?”
Erydan nodded slowly, his voice lowering to barely above a whisper. “Terribly wrong. The energy within the Artifact was too volatile, too alien for our magic to contain. Instead of destroying it, the ritual caused it to transform. It became a Dungeon Core—a nexus of energy unlike any other, reshaping the ruins of Shudra into the Dungeon you now see. Its influence spread like a cancer, warping the land and binding my essence to its heart in the process.”
Jack’s gaze swept the shimmering walls of the Treasury, the eerie glow casting long, flickering shadows. “So this Dungeon exists because of the Artifact?”
“Partially,” Erydan replied, his tone contemplative. “Dungeon Cores are not unheard of, though their origins are typically more natural. They form when concentrated magic interacts with death and chaos—such as the aftermath of a great battle or the death of a powerful creature in an area rich with latent mana. But this Core… this was something different. Its connection to the Outer Realm makes it unique and far more dangerous. That connection allowed the Herald to open a rift within the Dungeon once it fully matured, a process that took centuries to complete.”
Jack crossed his arms, his mind reeling from the weight of the revelation. “And you? You’ve been here all this time?”
Erydan’s golden eyes dimmed slightly, a faint glow flickering within them. “My people found my body after the ritual and buried me in the crypt that now serves as the entrance to this Dungeon. They did not realize the truth—that my body had become the Dungeon Core. Over the years, the Core absorbed the city, converting everything into raw energy to fuel its growth. By the time my people understood what was happening, it was far too late. The Shudra they had known was too far gone.”
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Jack exhaled, the enormity of the story sinking in. “And your people? What happened to them? I’ve met some, and no offense, but they seemed more like savage barbarians than anything else.”
Erydan’s expression hardened, his translucent features etched with pain. “What you encountered are all that remains of my people—the Ramkin. But they were not always as you saw them. They were once scholars, mages, artisans, and warriors. They built Shudra with their brilliance and defended it with their valor.”
Jack’s frown deepened. “Then how did they end up… like that?”
The Avatar sighed, the sound carrying centuries of sorrow. “The Dungeon Core’s influence was insidious. Its corruption spread slowly, like a poison seeping into the land, the air, and the minds of my people. The connection to the Outer Realm brought alien whispers, haunting dreams, and a growing madness. At first, the effects were subtle—strange dreams, a growing unease. But as the Core grew stronger, the influence of the Outer Realm became more pronounced.”
He paused, his gaze distant. “The people of Shudra began to change. Their minds fractured under the weight of alien whispers that crept into their thoughts, sowing paranoia and fear. The Core drew upon their emotions, amplifying their basest instincts. Civilization unraveled. Neighbors turned on one another. their minds fractured, their culture faded, and reason gave way to savagery.”
Jack’s stomach twisted. “And no one could stop it?”
Erydan shook his head. “I tried. Even as a fragment of myself bound to the Core, I sought to guide them, to shield them from the worst of its effects. But I was no longer the Archmage they knew. I was a voice in the shadows, a remnant tied to the force that had already begun to consume them. Over generations, the knowledge and culture of Shudra faded, replaced by superstition and savagery.”
He gestured toward the distant walls of the Treasury. “The forest you see above is what replaced Shudra after the Dungeon fully consumed it. It wasn’t just the city that was gone it was everything my people had built over the years. Our history , our records everything. What is left of my people barely remember where they came from.Their bloodline remains strong, but their minds and memories have been eroded.”
Jack’s gaze fell to the polished floor, his mind churning. “That’s… a lot to take in. So, what happens now? Is there any way to fix this?”
Erydan’s golden eyes glimmered faintly. “The Core cannot be destroyed—not by any means I know. Its connection to the Outer Realm makes it indestructible in a way no natural Core could be. But perhaps its influence can be contained, weakened over time.”
Jack looked up at the Avatar, determination flickering in his eyes. “Then maybe that’s what I’ll do. I didn’t come here just to fight for the sake of it. If there’s a way to help your people—or at least stop this corruption from spreading—I’ll do what I can.”
Erydan studied him for a long moment before a faint smile touched his lips. “You carry the weight of a Protector of the Realm, Jack. That title suits you. Perhaps, in time, you will be the one to succeed where I failed.”
Jack opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, a familiar sound echoed in his mind—a low chime, clear and resonant, that signified a System notification. His vision blurred for a moment as glowing text appeared in front of him.
[You have been offered a Quest:]
Legacy of Shudra I
Objective: Find a way to restore the lost legacy of the Ramkin by reversing the corruption of the Dungeon Core or establishing a new path for their future.
Penalty for failure: The Ramkin will remain as they are, lost to savagery and corruption.
Rewards: Experience, Unique Skill, next stage of Quest chain.
Accept Yes/No?
Jack blinked, staring at the glowing text. He hadn’t been expecting the System to step in, especially not in such a personal and meaningful way. He glanced at Erydan, whose golden gaze studied him curiously.
“I think I just got... something important,” Jack said, his voice tinged with both surprise and determination.
Erydan tilted his head. “The System has acknowledged you, has it not? I cannot see it myself, but I felt a shift—a ripple of intent. What does it say?”
Jack read the Quest again, his heart thudding in his chest. The weight of it was monumental, but there was no hesitation as he looked back at the Avatar.
“It wants me to save your people,” Jack said simply.
For the first time, Erydan’s expression softened into something that looked like cautious hope. “Then perhaps the Protector I have been waiting for has truly arrived.”
Jack focused on the glowing text before him and took a steadying breath.
“Accept,” he said firmly.
The text shimmered and disappeared, leaving a faint warmth in his chest. Jack felt a surge of purpose, a clarity that sharpened his thoughts. This was no longer just about surviving or gaining power—it was about righting a profound wrong and giving the Ramkin a chance to reclaim what they had lost.