The journey with Lysia had been silent for the most part. Kael, still sore from the battle with the Remnant, leaned against the side of the wagon they'd acquired at a remote outpost. The stars blinked coldly above as they rumbled through the forests of the Eastern Blightlands, an area long abandoned by both kingdoms and guilds. It was here, Lysia claimed, where the System held no sway.
"We're close," she said finally, breaking the silence.
Kael sat up. In the distance, nestled between jagged hills and thick mist, stood a massive stone structure overgrown with vines, cracked by time, but undeniably formidable. The fortress looked as though it had been clawed from the bones of the earth itself.
"That's it?" he asked.
"The Broken Fortress," she confirmed. "One of the last places untouched by the Divine Codex. A sanctuary for those like you."
They passed under a crumbled archway, where glyphs in an ancient tongue shimmered faintly as they entered. Kael felt something stir in his chest not pain, not fear, but something else. Recognition.
Inside, the fortress pulsed with hidden life. Firepits glowed in hollowed halls, casting dancing shadows on walls etched with pre-System symbols. People moved within some armored, some cloaked, some with missing limbs replaced by crude magitek prosthetics. None looked particularly welcoming.
"They won't trust you at first," Lysia warned. "Most here have been betrayed too many times. They've learned to survive by being wary."
Kael nodded. That he could understand.
They dismounted, and a tall man with burn scars across his face approached them. His eyes were sharp, calculating.
"He's the one?" he asked Lysia.
"He survived a Remnant and wore the Warden's Echo. I'd say he qualifies."
The man gave Kael a long look. "Name's Garric. Head of security here. If you mess up, I bury you. Simple as that."
Kael didn't flinch. "Understood."
Lysia motioned him to follow. They passed through hallways reinforced with old magic, lined with training grounds, forge rooms, and even a small library. Eventually, they arrived at a great hall where several figures sat in quiet discussion.
A dwarf with a thick beard and a mechanical arm looked up and squinted.
"So this is the Forsaken boy, eh? Looks like he barely survived his own shadow."
"Kael," Lysia introduced. "This is Morgrim, technomancer, artificer, and one of the few who still remembers how to craft without the System."
"Pleasure," Morgrim grunted. "You've got potential, but potential without control is a recipe for disaster. You overloaded the Warden's Echo, didn't you? Almost fried your nerves."
Kael blinked. "You know about that?"
"Kid, I helped make it. Or at least the original schematics."
Before Kael could ask more, another figure stepped forward a woman with beast-like ears, soft silver fur along her cheeks, and eyes that shimmered with a healer's calm.
"I'm Selene," she said gently. "Healer and guide. You've walked a hard road. You'll need more than strength to survive the one ahead."
Kael felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly at her presence.
Lysia addressed them all. "Kael needs to be trained. Not just to survive but to lead. The System has marked him, but not as a pawn. As a threat. And he's not the only one."
Murmurs filled the hall. Garric crossed his arms. "We've already got enough mouths to feed and not enough steel. What makes this one special?"
Lysia's voice cut through the murmurs. "Because he's the first one in centuries to reawaken a Forsaken System."
Silence.
Selene stepped closer. "Then he must learn balance. The Forsaken System is volatile. It bends to will, not code. If he can't master himself, it will consume him."
Morgrim nodded. "We'll start at dawn."
The following days were brutal.
Kael trained until his limbs felt like lead. Morgrim pushed him to synchronize with relics without relying on stat boosts, teaching him how to resonate with an item's *intention*. Selene taught him to control his emotions, showing how fury or fear could alter the nature of Forsaken energy. And Lysia? She tested his limits with live combat drills no restraints.
But it wasn't just training.
Kael began to see the fortress not just as a stronghold, but a fragile ecosystem. Refugees, rebels, wounded fighters, and rejected misfits all coexisted here not always peacefully. Arguments broke out over rations. A former priest once tried to "purge" a mutant child. Some whispered Kael was a spy.
One evening, as Kael nursed bruised ribs near a bonfire, a boy no older than thirteen approached him. He had missing fingers and eyes that had seen too much.
"You were chosen by the Forsaken, right?" the boy asked.
Kael hesitated. "I guess."
"Then you're like us. Not broken. Just different."
Kael looked around. Children practiced sword forms. A limbless veteran carved a new arm from bonewood. A girl with a cracked crystal embedded in her chest meditated alone.
"What's your name?" Kael asked.
"Tirin. I saw my whole village get burned because our System selections were... wrong. We didn't fight. We just didn't fit."
Kael felt a fire stir inside him.
Later that night, Garric cornered him.
"You're inspiring them," the scarred man said with a growl. "They think you'll save them. That you'll lead something bigger."
Kael swallowed. "I didn't ask for that."
"Doesn't matter. When people are drowning, they'll cling to anything that floats. You better decide soon are you a raft or an anchor?"
That same night, an explosion rocked the northern wall.
Screams echoed through the fortress. Kael rushed out to see a hole blown through the perimeter. Smoke and fire licked the sky. Shapes moved in the darkness metal-clad warriors, marked with glowing runes. Not guilders.
Enforcers.
"They've found us!" someone yelled.
Kael's heart pounded. Selene barked orders. Morgrim grabbed his gauntlet and launched a flare from a rusted cannon. Garric engaged two invaders in a brutal clash.
Kael sprinted toward the breach and saw the impossible.
A shadowy figure hovered just beyond the smoke. Its form shifted like mist, and its eyes burned blue. A Herald. One of the System's direct agents.
The figure raised a hand.
A sigil exploded into the sky like a beacon.
Kael's Forsaken Mark flared on his chest. Pain lanced through his body.
He screamed.
The last thing he saw before collapsing was Lysia leaping into the fire, blades drawn, and the Herald stepping into the light face familiar. Too familiar.
His brother.