Smoke clung to the forest like a second cloak, thick and bitter in Raen's lungs as he crouched beside the corpse. The charred remains of the rogue mage were still warm, flesh seared into metal, soul well away. Raen's eyes did not blink. He was staring at the charred husk of a human, but all his mind could concentrate on was the silence.
Not just outside him. Inside.
The System had not uttered a word since the previous strike.
Even after he collected the smoldered ash-covered crystal that had formed in the corpse's chest—a compressed Soul Core, ephemeral and rare—there had been no communication. No ping. No icy, robotic voice muttering New Skill unlocked or Experience gained.
Nothing.
He stuffed the Soul Core into a pouch lined with shredded cloth. Its feeble heat seeped through the material, beating like a pulse.
Something had changed.
Raen eased himself up, the ferocity of what he'd just accomplished weighing chains across his limbs. He'd pushed the Burning Sigil past its breaking point. Symbols on his forearm continued to burn softly, fiery red lines seared into his skin like searing blisters. He hadn't meant to activate it all the way. That wasn't mere rage—that was something different.
Desperation.
He exhaled. "I overextended…"
It worked.
The rogue wizard was dead. Burned alive by fire that did not exist here. The trees nearby were scarred by it—blackened trunks, smoldering leaves, a ring of ash around the battle like the mark of a curse.
Raen stood in the direction of the fled scouts. He had not chased them. Not yet. He did not know whom they were reporting to. Bandits? Another noble house? A rebel faction from within the Whispering Gate itself?
He must know.
His boot scraped against something. Half-melted amulet. He stooped to retrieve it, bending. The sigil was bizarre, but… familiar. A knotted silver curve with an inverted eye.
Not bandits. Not standard mercenaries.
That logo was that of a clan he'd ever heard of once in his former life—of one that walked in darkness and spoke prophecies.
The Echoed Eye.
They weren't allowed to exist yet. Not until the Third Collapse.
But they did. Interfering.
Raen's hand on the amulet closed into a fist.
This world is breaking from within. And his reincarnation could not have been a second chance. Could've been a trap.
System Notification:
ERROR: Timeline Desynchronization Detected.
Recalibration processing… Partial suppression eliminated. Updating system interface…
Raen staggered as a wave of coldness overwhelmed his mind.
The system voice returned, distant and twisted.
System Update Complete.
Traits Unlocked:
Soulflare Sigil (Dormant)
Your body has been presented with a Soul Core by direct contact. This enables hidden affinity with soul-type energy. Dormant until activated by appropriate essence or ritual.
Ashwalked
You have slain with fire from forbidden roots. Your footsteps leave behind warmth. Passive intimidation + slight resistance to fire magic.
Raen blinked as the words flowed through his line of sight. The second attribute felt… off. "Forbidden roots"?
He did not recall drawing on anything forbidden. Unless…
Unless the Sigil had drawn upon deeper within him than he knew.
Was the power of burning really just magic?
Or had something else been stirred?
He looked at his hand. The veins were barely humming with that growing light, pumping orange embers like the heart of a dying forge. He curled his fist and forced the light down. It retreated—gradually.
"I have to be careful," he growled.
The fire was not all his.
No longer.
He spent the next hour walking through the forest, tracing over the escape routes of the scouts. But they had fanned out smartly—trained. Whoever had sent them out had anticipated defeat.
Instead, he discovered something else.
A marker stone.
A moss-covered old one, fissured down the middle.
But not natural.
It had been left behind. On purpose.
Raen knelt beside it and brushed away the moss. Below was a symbol—a circle of interlocking stars, with one lonely crescent moon in the center.
His breath caught.
That symbol is the Temple of the Forgotten.
Another group that wasn't supposed to be in the picture here.
They were historians. Time-keepers. Unofficial recorders of world loops and shattered realities. Deadly, not because they killed—but because they knew too much.
Why had there been a temple marker here? In a burnt-up forest of stolen magic?
Was he under observation?
Raen stood up and scanned the tree line. He felt no eyes. But he didn't think that.
"First the Echoed Eye, then the Temple." He ran his hand over his hair. "What tale am I sitting in the middle of?"
He turned away from the marker. He could not afford to pause.
Not yet.
But now one thing was sure: his reincarnation was not a second chance.
It was a piece on somebody else's board.
And he did not enjoy being moved.
Quest Updated:
Main Quest - Fracture of Fate (Altered)
Reveal the connection between the rogue mages, the Echoed Eye, and the Temple of the Forgotten.
Reveal the origin of the Soul Core you ingested.
Survive long enough to regain access to the [First Memory].
Progress: 14%
Raen let out a hard breath. That final line—First Memory—was new.
He hadn't even realized anything had been suppressed.
But the system had. And now it was teasing him.
He glanced up at the sky. It was bleached now, not smoking anymore, but a dull gray like ash had tainted even the sun. Somewhere, beyond the trees, the highway to the city still stretched out.
He needed allies. Information. Supplies.
He needed control.
And this time, he wasn't going to let the world scorch him first.