Tyro moved through the blood-slicked corridor, footsteps uneven, echoing in the silence. The bodies of Arven and his Silver-tier team lay broken behind him. leaving only the raw burn of exhaustion and the weight of what he had done.
He didn't feel a sense achievement. He only felt hollow.
The faint glow of the marks on his skin had dimmed, but he could still feel something beneath the surface. Watching. Waiting.
---
The hallway eventually opened into a vast underground chamber, circular in shape, lined with towering obelisks carved in ancient runes. In the center, there is a pool of black liquid, untouched by dust or debris.
Tyro hesitated at the edge. The liquid calls to him—not with words, but a vibration deep in his bones.
His reflection stared back at him: wild eyes, cracked dry lips, and unfamiliar marks across his arms and face. He looked like a monster.
As he stepped into the pool.
Pain shot up his legs instantly, a paralyzing cold that gripped his spine. The symbols on the obelisks lit up in response, and a deep voice resonated through the chamber.
"Heir of Chains. You have broken the first. Now face the memory of Ashen."
The world shifted.
---
Tyro found himself in another place.
A battlefield. Not a real—memory—but something more vivid than anything he'd ever seen.
The sky was red. Mountains burned in the distance. Thousands of armored figures—humanoid— fought beasts made of fire and smoke. Towering giants swung tree-sized weapons. Sorcerers shattered the heavens with beams of gold.
And at the center of the carnage was a figure cloaked in chains, eyes burning like fire, standing on top of a mountain of corpses.
The figure turned—looked directly at Tyro.
"You will fall. And you will fail. But if you survive, you will rise as the Ashen Incarnate."
The vision shattered.
Tyro collapsed back out the pool, gasping. His clothes were drenched in frost and sweat. He stumbled out, heart racing.
"What… was that?"
The mark on his chest burned again, as if branding the memory into him.
---
Tyro emerged from the Nura four hours later.
His legs barely held him. His eyes ached from the pale sunlight.
At the checkpoint, guards sat lazily under a tarp, playing cards. One of them noticed Tyro's approach and stood up, squinting.
"Wait... weren't you with the Silver-tier squad that went in earlier?"
Tyro kept walking.
"They left me to die."
The guard frowned. "What's your name?"
"Tyro Virein."
As he pushed past the guard.
He had no time for questions. He needed to get back to Lina.
---
Back in the outer slums of Skyhold, the streets were a maze of rusted metal and steam-hissing pipes. Children played with broken gear pieces while merchants shouted over each other at makeshift stalls.
Tyro moved quickly, every step a reminder of how drained he was. His thoughts drifted between the battle, the transformation, and the vision.
He reached the dormitory, pushed open the door, and nearly collapsed from relief when he saw Lina asleep on her cot. Her breathing was shallow but steady.
He knelt beside her, brushing her hair aside.
"I'm back," he whispered.
She stirred. "You're hurt…"
"I'll be fine." He pulled out a satchel he'd looted from Arven's squad—filled with healing serums, and credit chips. "We've got enough now. No more working with Silver-tier scum. I'll figure something out."
Lina gave him a faint, worried look. "You look… different."
Tyro looked away. "Yeah."
---
Later that night, Tyro stood on top of the dormitory roof, watching the smoke rise from the inner city.
Something was coming. He felt it in the marrow of his bones.
As he stared into the night, a chill crept down his spine.
Across the city, in a chamber beneath the Hunter Guild's tower, a man in gold-trimmed robes read a report by candlelight.
"Subject: Tyro Virein. Unauthorized survivor of The collapse Nura dungeon. Potential unknown. Unregistered anomaly."
The man closed the file and turned to a figure wrapped in black behind him.
"Send someone to observe him, the figure moved and disappeared. If he's what I think he is…"
"…he may be the first Ashenbound to walk this world in a thousand years."