The fog was thick, piercing the cold morning breath of a land that screamed under the weight of memories.
In that gray dawn, "Shaw" stood among the ruins of the city of "Valheim," the city that had burned on the night his blood was tested for the first time. Its charred walls, the stones shattered by magic and fire, and the towers that had become black phantoms trembling in the wind—everything there told a tale of pain and curse.
He looked at his right hand. The burn marks were still there, faint but unforgettable. Since his last encounter with "Hymn," something had changed inside him. He began to feel something stirring deep within his blood. Not just power, but... a calling.
His steps were slow, heavy. Behind him, "Aster" followed, her features reflecting a mixture of caution and sorrow. She had seen this city before, but she never imagined returning to it in this state.
She whispered:
"Everything here... is dead."
Shaw replied without looking at her:
"No, not dead. It's asleep... just like I was."
The wind carried a warm ash that had no explanation, as if the fire that had destroyed the place was still breathing in its ruins.
Suddenly, the two heard a faint humming. It echoed through the air like a distant melody. Shaw advanced toward the source of the sound until he stood before a shattered statue in the city square. The statue depicted a woman holding a broken spear, her face covered in rust and stone-carved tears.
"This... is my mother," Shaw murmured.
Aster looked at him in shock. "What?"
His voice trembled:
"My mother was a priestess of Valheim... I no longer remember her face clearly, but I remember her voice, chanting prayers to protect the temple. She was strong, and she used to hide me when they sensed something strange in my blood. This curse began here..."
His face paled as he knelt before the statue, placing his hand on its broken base. As his fingers touched the stone, a shiver ran through his body, and he heard a whisper in his ear, as if echoing from within his very bones:
"O heir... The chains are breaking, but the price has not yet been paid..."
He jerked backward, breathing heavily. Aster looked at him in concern.
"What happened?" she asked.
His voice was unsteady:
"There is something here... An ancient power... waiting for me."
And they were not alone. In
the shadows, unseen eyes watched...
The silence of the dead city was deceptive.
Though nothing moved, the air itself was saturated with something unseen—an omen of impending danger, or perhaps a past that had yet to be buried.
Aster moved quietly beside Shaw, gripping her spear with caution. The voices he heard weren't mere illusions—she had felt them too. A presence, the sensation of spirits... ones that did not belong to this world.
She spoke in a hushed tone:
"Shaw, if there's something here... we should leave."
But he shook his head, his gaze locked onto the collapsed temple at the far end of the square.
"If we leave now, I'll never get the answers I need."
His steps quickened, as if an unseen force was urging him forward. With every step toward the temple, the humming in his ears grew louder, until it felt like a chorus of souls weeping in ominous harmony.
Half-buried under rubble, the temple stood in ruin.
Its symbols were cryptic, carved in an ancient, incomprehensible language—but Shaw's blood responded to them. At the entrance, he saw a broken circular emblem—a spear piercing an open eye. He recognized the mark instantly. It was the Seal of the "Bound Blood," the sign placed upon those who carried the blood of the cursed kings.
"Father..." Shaw whispered, his gaze frozen on the emblem.
Suddenly, Aster gripped his arm.
"Someone is watching us. I feel it."
She was not imagining it. From amid the destruction, a long shadow emerged, walking on four legs, silent as death.
Creatures rose from beneath the earth, one by one—faces distorted, eyes pale, skin gray and cracked. They were remnants of spirits that had never left, guardians of the curse, bound by Shaw's blood.
One of them rasped, its voice raw like something pulled from the grave:
"Blood heir... You have returned."
Shaw stood his ground, his hand glowing with a deep crimson light.
"If you intend to consume me like you did the others... then try."
Energy erupted from his body like a storm,
The square echoed with the roar of blood-red flames, engulfing the creatures—but they did not fall easily. The battle had begun, and for the first time, Shaw was n
o longer running from his fate.
The gray bodies surged toward Shaw like a raging flood.
Their fangs dripped with black saliva, their white eyes ablaze with hatred. But Shaw did not retreat. He opened his right palm, and in an instant, a dark blade coiled around his forearm—"The Sealed Blood" weapon, untouched for thousands of years.
His strikes were a mix of raw power and suppressed fury, each blow sending a creature crashing to the ground. But he was not alone.
Aster joined him.
She thrust her spear into the heart of one of the creatures, then spun around and struck another at the back of its head.
Gasping, she said:
"Is this... some kind of royal welcome?"
Shaw responded with a voice tinged with bitterness:
"This... is my legacy."
But something was off.
With each creature he killed, he felt as though he was losing something within himself—a delicate thread of his humanity.
A voice whispered inside his head:
"Let them collapse... Let them melt into your blood..."
Suddenly, the creatures stopped attacking.
They gathered at the edges of the square, as if something greater had arrived.
From between the shattered columns of the temple, "The First Guardian" emerged.
A massive figure covered in stone-like skin, its face obscured by a half-shattered metal mask, with a single eye glowing crimson red.
It wielded a double-bladed axe the size of a human corpse, and with each step, the ground trembled beneath it.
Aster whispered:
"This isn't like the others..."
Shaw stepped forward without hesitation:
"He is not just a guardian... He is one of those who buried the secret here."
The guardian raised its axe and slammed it into the ground, sending shockwaves rippling outward like a miniature earthquake, hurling Shaw and Aster off their feet.
Shaw crashed a meter away, but he got back up, his face smeared with blood, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
He spoke to the guardian in a fractured voice:
"If you are the last barrier... then I am the last to cross."
The blade in his hand ignited, and blood glowed in his eyes.
The true battle had begun.
The air was filled with the scent of burning metal and ash.
The sounds of clashing weapons rose, intertwining with the distant cries of the creatures watching from afar, as if witnessing a sacred ritual they were forbidden from interfering with.
Shaw sprinted toward the First Guardian, each step echoing within him—not in his body, but in his soul.
He felt that this battle was not merely a physical struggle… but a test.
A test for the Blood Heir.
Shaw's blade met the Guardian's axe,
and a great spark erupted between them, sending gusts of air in all directions.
The pressure was unbearable, and the ground beneath his feet began to crack.
The Guardian let out a terrifying roar and swung its axe in a sudden arc, forcing Shaw to retreat. But he wasn't fast enough—the blow struck his shoulder, sending him rolling away.
Aster cried out:
"Shaw!"
But Shaw rose again, blood dripping from his hand, his eyes burning brighter than before.
Something was awakening inside him.
A mysterious voice whispered in his mind:
"You are not just your father's son… You are the son of the covenant."
Time froze for a moment.
Shaw saw strange visions—
A dark throne, a golden shackle coiled around his heart, shadows bowing before him.
His eyes snapped open, and the ashes around him swirled into a vortex.
His blood-forged blade reshaped itself, becoming sharper, as if responding to his inner transformation.
He charged at the Guardian again, but this time, he fought not just with his body—
but with his legacy,
his pain,
and the blood of all those who had fallen before him.
One strike,
another,
a third—
Finally, his blade pierced the Guardian's chest with a direct thrust.
The giant staggered backward, then slowly knelt, before its body crumbled into black dust.
Silence…
Then, the temple began to tremble.
The ground cracked open, and from beneath the square, a colossal stone gate rose, covered in ancient engravings.
Shaw approached, his face streaked with blood and ash, and muttered softl
y:
"I have opened the door... but at what cost?"
The gate was waiting.
Its ancient engravings pulsed with a faint glow, as if breathing for the first time in centuries.
Shaw stood before it, his ragged breaths turning to mist in the air saturated with old magic.
Every cell in his body screamed in pain, but his eyes remained locked on the goal.
Aster stepped forward hesitantly, her expression filled with awe and fear.
She whispered,
"This isn't just a gate… It's alive."
Shaw replied softly,
"It's testing us… just like the Guardian did."
Leona approached from the side, clutching her injured right arm.
"What lies beyond isn't just part of the path… It's part of you, Shaw. I can feel it."
A deep resonance echoed from within the gate,
a sound like the growl of something ancient, something that did not belong to this world.
Then, the gate slowly split apart, revealing a long staircase descending into the depths of darkness.
The air flowing from within was cold as ice… yet it wasn't ordinary air.
It was thick with an energy that reminded them of the curse rooted deep within Shaw.
Aster spoke with concern,
"Are you sure you're ready?"
Without hesitation, Shaw answered,
"I no longer have the luxury of doubt. Everything that began here… will end there."
Before stepping onto the staircase, he turned to his companions.
Their eyes were all on him.
Filled with support… fear… and fragile hope.
He said,
"I won't ask you to follow me. This is my step to take."
Leona let out a soft laugh, despite her pain.
"Idiot… Who said we ever listened to you?"
Aster smiled with quiet determination.
"We started this journey together… We'll finish it together."
The three descended, step by step, into the unknown.
The staircase stretched deeper and deeper… until they vanished into the darkness.
---
Above the surface,
the shattered Guardian began to reform—but this time, it did not rise from ashes.
It rose from black flames.
Deep within the temple,
eyes that had slept since the first age opened once more…
And the next chapter of fate was about to be written.