Chapter 42 – The Forest Where He Was Forgotten
Part 1: The Roots Beneath the Ash
The forest was quieter than he remembered.
The wind no longer stirred the trees the same way. The moss grew thicker. The clearing was smaller now, overrun with time—but the stones still knew him.
This was where it ended.
And now it would begin again.
Ariz al Sulieman stood barefoot in the tall grass, wearing only his worn trousers and silence.
No more tavern coat.No more mask.No more Ashern.
That name had burned with the second church.
There was no longer a need to hide.
He placed his palm on the blackened earth where his grandfather once stood. The old firepit was still there, half-buried. No wood. Just ash. He closed his eyes.
And the system responded.
[System Notification: Racial Evolution Available]Human → Umbrakin (Extinct Noble Line: Unsealed)
✔ Two Church Strongholds Destroyed✔ Bloodline Traumatized & Synchronized✔ Identity Fragment Burned
This evolution is irreversible.
Begin transformation?
[Yes]
He didn't breathe when it started.
The clearing dimmed. Even the light between the trees turned grey.
And then came the pain—but it wasn't pain. It was correction.
His spine stretched. His shoulders pulled back and widened. Muscles grew—not bulky, but sculpted like marble carved in shadow.
His skin lost its warmth—turning pale like moonstone, soft in shade, but gleaming where light touched it.
Violet markings traced themselves across his chest, collarbones, and arms—flowing in geometric paths that pulsed with something ancient. Not tribal. Royal.
His ears elongated slightly, refined into subtle points. Not elven—sharper. Clean. Elegant.
And when he opened his eyes…
They burned.
Pure, luminous violet.
The trees recoiled.
Even the shadows paused.
[Evolution Complete: Umbrakin – Shadowborn Noble]➤ Rank Advanced: Expert➤ Bloodline Ability Gained: Veilwalk (Passive – Merge into and travel through ambient shadow)➤ Aura Shifted: Suppressed by default➤ Light Resistance: Active
You are what the priests feared.You are what the light forgot.
Ariz exhaled for the first time in minutes.
No gasping.
No staggering.
He rose to full height—taller, more balanced, body defined with an inhuman grace. Not monstrous.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
Wrong for the world that betrayed him.
He stepped forward, and the grass flattened without his feet touching it.
The violet glow of his eyes dimmed as he walked into the woods.
Toward the village.
The houses hadn't changed.
Same crooked roofs.
Same stone path.
Same people pretending they didn't remember the fire.
But tonight, the shadow they ignored would knock on their doors.
And ask for names.
The village chief's house stood at the center—still proud, still intact.
A candle burned in the window.
Ariz didn't knock.
The door opened without a sound.
Inside, the old man looked up from his teacup.
The moment their eyes met, he dropped it.
Porcelain shattered.
He tried to stand, but Ariz was already there.
One pale, veined hand seized his throat.
Lifted him from the ground like he was weightless.
The chief choked, legs kicking.
Ariz didn't speak at first.
He let the fear settle. Let it fill the air like smoke.
Then, calmly:
"Tell me who burned my home."