Re: God Slayer

Kael stared at the massive stone door open in front of him, its surface was worn and cracked with age yet still had an oppressive air around it.

Steeling himself, he took a slow breath, clenched his fists, and stepped forward into the suffocating darkness beyond the door.

As he entered, the door groaned shut behind him, sealing with a final thud that echoed in his ears. The room plunged into pitch-black silence, but Kael's mind was far from calm.

Suddenly, fragments of images flashed in his head—a colossal sword, towering thousands of feet high, it was broken and fractured, its remains thrust deep into the ground. The vision was so vivid that Kael stumbled, clutching his head, gasping as the scene faded as quickly as it had come.

Before he could make sense of it, a voice, deeply resonant echoed through the shadows.

"Mortals are born weak... afraid."

Kael froze, his eyes darting around as low light lit the room. Across from him, a figure emerged from the darkness. Wrapped in tattered robes that hung loosely over dented and battle-scarred armor, the figure moved with the slow deliberation of someone who had seen centuries pass.

His face remained obscured, but Kael felt an unsettling presence exuding from him.

"I feared a great many things," the figure continued, his voice harsh and layered, as though it was multiple beings who spoke in unison, "until I feared nothing at all."

Kael's left eye throbbed as the red cloth merged within it flared to life. He winced as ghostly symbols and text appeared in his vision.

> ◇ Unknown Entity

> ◇ ???

> ◇ ???

"What the…?" Kael muttered, his voice drowning over the sound of his pounding heartbeat.

He looked up at the figure, confusion clear on his face. Before he could process what was happening, the figure threw a blade toward him. It clattered across the ground, coming to a stop just inches from Kael's feet.

Kael looked up at the figure, dread sinking into his stomach. He understood the unspoken command: Pick up the sword.

"I can't fight," Kael stammered, his voice trembling he raised his hands defensively. "I'm not a Lightforged. I don't have abilities—I'm just—"

The figure tilted his head slightly, his posture unchanging, before he began to pace slowly to the side, his footsteps echoing in the large space.

"When this world met its end," the figure began, his tone lost of anything familiar or human, "I had not yet awakened as a Lightforged. The Vitality Crystals were shattered, and blight swallowed everything, turning this world into a graveyard. I was nothing but a powerless child. The Ravagers hunted me. I survived in this empty, ruined world, killing those beasts with my bare hands."

The figure stopped, turning his gaze back to Kael. "I breathed in the corruption of blight every second of that ordeal. Waiting for the day it finally killed me. But then I understood. Blight… was more than a curse. It was pure. Raw. A chaotic, unfiltered energy. Etherion is a pale mockery of it."

The figure's words reached Kael with an intensity he couldn't quite understand.

"No," the figure said, pointing at him with a steady hand. "You are no Lightforged. You are something more profound. Pick up the blade."

Kael hesitated, his eyes flicking from the figure to the thin sword lying at his feet. With trembling hands, he bent down, gripping the hilt awkwardly.

It felt foreign in his grasp, heavier than it looked, but there was no time to think. He raised it in front of him, the blade wobbling as he struggled to steady it.

The figure didn't wait.

With terrifying speed, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air. Kael barely reacted, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his body refused to move fast enough.

The blade slashed through his side, blood spraying as he let out a choked cry. Pain erupted through him as the figure's strikes continued, relentless and brutal. Kael's bones cracked under the onslaught, his vision blurring as he fell to his knees.

Every strike was accurate, calculated to inflict maximum pain without granting the mercy of death. Kael's body was a broken, bleeding mess by the time the figure finally stopped. He gasped for breath, the taste of iron filling his mouth as his trembling hands fell limp to his sides.

Through his haze of pain, he saw the figure kneel before him, grab him by the face and raise his bloddy form causing his feet to dangle above the floor.

His hand forced Kael's mouth open, and before Kael could resist—not like he could, a bitter liquid was poured down his throat. He gagged, choking on the strange potion, but the figure's grip was firm.

Then, the figure tossed Kael on the floor and backed away.

The pain surged, spreading through his veins like fire. Kael screamed, his body convulsing as the potion worked its way through him. His wounds closed rapidly, his bones resetting with sickening cracks.

In seconds, the agony faded, replaced by a strange, unnatural calm.

> ◇ 0.00006% memory unlocked.

Kael's vision cleared, and he looked up at the figure with wide, horrified eyes. The man kicked the bloodied sword back to him, its edge glinted in the low light ominously.

"Again," the figure said coldly, raising his own blade.