The wound in Cedric's side throbbed with each breath. He pressed a hand against it, teeth clenched. The fractured rib hadn't healed, and he had no potions, no healers—just stolen cloth and cold silence.
Still, he moved.
The forest east of Ish'thar's Keep had long been abandoned. Dead trees clawed at the sky, their branches gnarled with old curses. Ruins littered the underbrush—remnants of old battles, demon wars long since scrubbed from history. He moved like a shadow between them, blade sheathed, eyes sharp.
He had two goals now: recover, and find a foothold.
> SYSTEM NOTICE
You are within proximity of a Faded Shrine.
Ancient Mana Detected.
Would you like to Investigate?
[YES] [NO]
Cedric's fingers hovered over the screen.
He pressed [YES].
---
Half-buried beneath stone and root, the shrine pulsed faintly. It was small—nothing like the grand sanctuaries of the Church. Its altar was cracked, the statue atop it eroded into little more than a faceless figure with wings half-broken.
Yet magic clung to it like dust.
Cedric approached, and the system responded with a low hum.
> Analyzing...
Residual Mana Resonance: 6% Matched to System Core
Unlocking Fragmented Function: THREADS OF MAGIC (GLIMPSE MODE)
Duration: 5 minutes
A rush of cold flooded his veins. Then he saw it.
Like silver cobwebs strung between reality itself, threads of pure, raw mana danced through the world—interwoven with air, stone, even his own body. Some glowed with warmth. Others writhed like serpents.
He reached toward a nearby thread, one tied to a dying vine.
With a flicker of intent, he plucked it.
The vine twisted—and bloomed.
It withered again a moment later, but Cedric's heart raced.
He could touch magic without chant, without ritual. The way the system framed it, the full version of this function would come much later—but this glimpse proved it was real.
He turned toward the shrine again. "What are you?" he whispered.
No answer came. But the feeling lingered: something ancient. Something broken. And something watching.
---
By nightfall, he was gone from the shrine, deeper into the forest. He needed supplies, and the nearest source of civilization was the town of Moltrin's Hollow, a minor trade outpost several leagues south. It would be risky, but he couldn't keep surviving off roots and rainwater.
When he neared the town's outskirts, he spotted a patrol.
Three men in chainmail bearing the Church's sigil—a sunburst carved over a sword. Their gear was polished, but their movements sloppy. These weren't elite guards.
> THREAT SCAN: Green/Yellow
Suggested Action: Engage with Caution
XP Yield: Moderate
Cedric crouched low behind a fallen tree, scanning their path. They talked loudly, unaware of the danger a few steps away.
"…still say it's dumb to be this far out," one muttered. "No demon sign in years. Just scared villagers and empty woods."
"Orders are orders," another replied. "High Priestess thinks the signs are changing."
The third scoffed. "Whatever. I'm just glad we got posted here. No freaks. No war. Easy coin."
Cedric narrowed his eyes.
Easy coin?
He slipped forward. Silent Blade activated, his steps muffled as if the forest held its breath.
Two fell before they even realized they were under attack—quick strikes to the throat and chest. The third tried to scream, but Cedric's dagger found his windpipe.
The bodies hit the ground.
> XP +61
New Equipment Acquired: Chainmail (+5 Defense), Basic Shortbow, Church Ration Pack x3
XP: 132/200
He dragged the corpses into the underbrush and took what he needed. Armor, food, a new weapon. No glory here. No applause.
Just survival.
He stared down at the church sigil. His hand tightened until the metal bent.
They wore the symbol of his enemies.
And they didn't even know who he was.
But they would.
Soon.