Adyr spent half an hour silently tailing the skeletons as they dragged the man through the twisting tunnels. He remained hidden the entire time, avoiding any movement that might draw attention.
At last, the path opened into a vast chamber. The space was so large that when Adyr looked up, he saw countless blue crystals embedded in the ceiling, glowing like stars and casting a radiant light that illuminated the entire room like a false sun.
As the skeletons continued dragging the man down a sloping side path into the lower level of the chamber, Adyr took cover behind a large boulder and observed from above.
This had to be their gathering place. Below, there were at least a hundred skeletons—and that wasn't even the strangest part.
Every single one of them was kneeling, arms raised, facing the same direction, as if in worship.
And at the center of their collective focus, perched atop a stone platform, was a white bird.
"What is this, the dungeon boss?" He muttered, instincts shaped by old MMORPGs. But it was far too small to be one.
As Adyr studied the creature, plain at first glance, yet strangely ethereal, a familiar sight returned. Once again, green text flickered before his eyes—a system message, presenting new information.
[Spark detected]
[Name] Dawn Raven
[Path] Astra
[Rank] 1
[Ability] Lifegrace
Description:
Dawn Ravens are born from the remains of the living on battlefields and inhabit bright, cold regions. They feed on fresh flesh and the life force of their prey. Though often mistaken for creatures of the Nether path due to their abilities, their powers affect only matter, firmly aligning them with the Astra path. Typically sluggish and non-aggressive, they're easy to catch—but rarely found alone. One must always be cautious of one's loyal guards.
Ability – Lifegrace: Dawn Ravens are grateful sparks, known to repay kindness with power. In exchange for a meal, they offer a fragment of their unique life force, transforming their prey's physical bodies into living skeletons bound to their will, and granting them an unnaturally extended existence.
As he read the description and looked at the raven, it hit him—this was the spark Vesha had mentioned. The one she was after.
One line in the description had especially caught his eye. At first, he'd assumed it was a boss to kill and loot—but the word "catch" shifted his perspective, and for the first time, the empty [Spark] slot in his stat panel began to make sense.
The game was still shrouded in mystery—if it even was a game at all—but he felt he had just peeled back another layer: a power system that included active skills.
"Oh fuck… I don't want to be a necromancer. That's so cliché," he muttered, a trace of irritation flickering across his face as he thought through the skill's mechanics.
But he quickly reminded himself—it was too early to jump to conclusions. Besides, he had a more immediate problem in front of him.
Tearing his gaze away from the raven, he noticed two bodies lying at the center of the skeleton gathering. The third—dragged all this way—was about to join them.
One of the bodies belonged to a man, clad in metallic armor much like the other. The second was the one Adyr had come for.
Vesha lay semi-conscious, her eyes fluttering open now and then—fighting to hold on, struggling to stay aware of her surroundings through the fog of fading consciousness.
Though still alive, Vesha looked deathly pale. She had already lost a significant amount of blood and was still bleeding. A dark red pool had begun to form beneath her. It was clear she didn't have much time. But what came next made it clear her blood loss was no longer the most pressing concern.
Just as Adyr had suspected, the skeletons dragging the third man didn't lay him beside the other two. Instead, they marched forward, past the circle, toward the stone platform where the Dawn Raven perched. There, they placed the unconscious man at the bird's feet, then stepped back and dropped to their knees, raising their arms like the others in silent worship.
It was unmistakably a ritual. A sacrifice.
The Dawn Raven remained still for a moment, eyes fixed on the offering. Then, with a sharp, soundless cry, it spread its wings and glided down to the man's side.
What followed was enough to freeze the blood of anyone with a conscience.
With a sudden jab of its beak, the raven gouged out one of the man's eyes and swallowed it in a single, clean motion.
"Aaaghhh!"
The searing pain jolted the man back to consciousness. He screamed, flailing, trying to escape the unknown torment—but the two skeletons flanking him pounced, pinning his limbs to the ground with an unyielding grip.
"Let me go, you cursed fiends! Let go!"
But neither the skeletons nor the raven paid him any mind.
The raven continued its work without pause. Each strike of its beak tore another piece of flesh from the man's body. Blood splattered across its white feathers, staining them deep red. The man's struggles grew weaker as the raven devoured him piece by piece—until his body, organs, and all, were nearly gone.
Adyr watched the entire scene with an unreadable expression. The carnage didn't faze him. If anything, his face showed faint disapproval.
As he kept watching, the raven finally stopped. With blood-soaked wings spread wide, it released a soft beam of green light that fell over the mangled remains.
The moment the ritual began, the kneeling skeletons around the chamber, who had until now been eerily still, began clacking their jaws. The sound echoed through the cavern like a chorus of bones, sharp and unsettling.
Within seconds, the green light consumed every trace of blood and flesh. It burned like fire, reducing the remains to ash. Even the blood staining the raven's feathers turned to dust, revealing once more its pristine white plumage.
Then, the real transformation began.
The man's skeleton, the only part left untouched by the flame, started to shift. The bones thickened, took on a metallic sheen, and grew in proportion—his limbs lengthening, posture changing. His frame now matched the other skeletons.
As the ritual's glow began to fade, a faint stream of green light branched off toward the two skeletons who had carried the offering. Their brittle, timeworn bones shimmered briefly—then grew denser, stronger, restored. The clatter of their jaws quickened, sharper now, echoing with something that almost resembled excitement.
Moments later, the light vanished completely. The Dawn Raven folded its wings and returned to its perch atop the platform.
Below, the freshly reborn skeleton slowly rose to its feet, only to kneel again—raising its arms toward the bird in solemn, wordless devotion.