Kian stood in silence, the weight of the spear resting against his shoulder. The defeated guardian's body lay still behind him, already beginning to disintegrate into fine grey dust. Every breath he drew felt heavier in this place—as though the air itself demanded something in return.
The chamber's walls began to shift again.
He turned just in time to see a second passage open in the stone, revealing a narrow hallway lit by violet runes. The path sloped downward. He hesitated for only a moment, then moved forward.
The deeper he went, the quieter the dungeon became. The echoes of dripping water vanished. Even the low hum he'd grown used to was gone. All that remained was the sound of his footsteps and his own heartbeat.
Eventually, the tunnel widened into another chamber, but this one was different.
There were no monsters here.
No traps. No glowing weapons.
Just a single stone monument in the center, its surface worn smooth by time. Around it, dozens—maybe hundreds—of old weapons were embedded in the ground. Swords, axes, spears, shattered bows, even rusted armor. They were offerings. Or graves.
Kian approached the monument slowly. There were words carved into the stone, though many were worn beyond recognition. What little remained was in an ancient tongue he didn't fully understand, but he recognized the structure.
A name. A list of titles. A farewell.
Someone had been honored here.
He placed a hand on the monument. The stone was cold, but for a brief moment, he felt a warmth behind it—like a presence watching.
Something stirred.
Then a whisper rose from the runes beneath his feet.
[Memory Trace Discovered: "The One Who Fell." Initiate?]
Kian hesitated. Last time he touched a memory trace, it nearly tore his mind apart. But he needed answers.
He nodded.
The world shifted again.
He stood now in a battlefield. Dark skies churned above as bolts of soul-fire rained down. Armored figures fought against twisted beasts—creatures of shadow and bone, their eyes glowing with madness.
At the heart of the battle was a man. Tall, cloaked in a tattered black coat, wielding a broken sword in one hand and a glowing seal in the other.
The seal was the same as the one on Kian's wrist.
He moved like lightning—fast, efficient, deadly. But there were too many enemies. One clawed beast struck him from behind, another pierced his side. Still, he fought on.
But in the end, he fell.
The battlefield faded as the man dropped to one knee, blood soaking the ground. A woman approached him—tall, armored, with white hair and cold silver eyes.
"You could've joined us. You had the strength."
"And you threw yours away," the man spat.
She didn't reply. Instead, she raised her blade.
The vision ended.
Kian staggered back, breathing hard. The mark on his wrist was glowing again.
"Who was he?" he whispered.
[Class Lineage Identified: Soulbound – Path of the Forsaken Flame.]
[Your soul resonates with the First Soulbound. Memories will surface with growth.]
Kian stared at the monument in silence. That man had fought alone. Died alone. But he didn't regret it.
Just like Kian—he had made a choice.
He wasn't like the others who came into the dungeon chasing strength for power's sake. He wasn't here for glory or coin. He had nothing left to prove.
He was here because he had nowhere else to go.
And now, the dungeon itself seemed to accept that.
As he turned to leave, another path opened behind the monument—this time wider, shaped like a descending staircase. At its entrance, a message hovered in the air:
[Trial of Will – Level 2 Begins. Prepare Yourself.]
Kian tightened the strap of his cloak and shifted the spear in his hand.
No more running.
No more hiding.
Whatever this trial was, he'd face it—just like the Soulbound before him.
The stairs led deep into the earth. As he descended, the temperature dropped rapidly. Frost began to spread along the walls. His breath turned to mist. The only light came from the faint glow of his spear and the mark on his wrist.
Eventually, he emerged into a frozen chamber.
Jagged crystals jutted from the walls and floor, and at its center stood a towering statue carved from ice, shaped like a knight in ancient armor. In its hands, a sword nearly as long as Kian was tall.
He stepped forward cautiously.
Then the ice cracked.
The knight's head turned.
Its eyes opened.
[Soulbound Trial: Guardian of the Hollow Stone – Initiated.]
The ice exploded outward.
The knight surged forward without hesitation, blade raised in a wide arc. Kian dove aside, narrowly avoiding the blow. The ground split behind him, shards of ice flying past his head.
The spear responded to his will—its tip glowing as he channeled his energy.
He struck the knight's shoulder, but the weapon skidded off. Armor. Reinforced.
The knight countered with a sweep, and Kian barely managed to phase through it—his new ability activating by instinct. His body shimmered briefly, passing through the attack like mist.
He landed behind the knight and drove the spear into the back of its knee. This time, the blade struck deep. The knight faltered.
Kian didn't wait.
He moved with precision—each attack cleaner, faster. He aimed for joints, gaps, weak points. His body ached, lungs burning, muscles screaming.
But he didn't stop.
Not until the knight fell, its massive sword clattering to the ice with a thunderous echo.
[Victory.]
[Trial Complete. Sync: 100%. New Skill Unlocked: Soul Step.]
[You are now recognized as a Soulbound Initiate. Class advancement possible at Level 10.]
Kian collapsed to one knee, gasping.
The spear, still warm in his grip, pulsed once before going still.
He didn't smile.
He didn't cheer.
But for the first time since he'd entered the dungeon, he felt something return to him.
Not power.
Not pride.
Something deeper.
Purpose.
To Be Continued…