The doors creaked open with a sound like centuries sighing.
Beyond them, Lucien stepped into darkness—a long corridor swallowed by shadow and age. The air was thick with ash and memory. Every footstep echoed like it disturbed ghosts who hadn't been spoken to in ages.
Then the torches lit themselves.
One by one, runes flared along the walls, bathing the hallway in cold, orange flame. The stone beneath his feet glowed faintly with the Vaelthorn crest: a sword entwined with thorns, piercing a shattered sun.
Lucien's chest tightened.
Why does all of this feel… familiar?
At the end of the corridor, a gate pulsed with magic. Unlike the first one, this was pure energy—woven symbols rotating in layers. A new interface appeared before him.
[Vaelthorn Trial Gate Detected]Access Level: Hollow-Blooded / Scion Lineage
Realm Transfer Initiated: Welcome to The Academy of Fire and Ash
Lucien barely had time to blink before the world shifted beneath him.
He landed hard—on black marble.
Not ruins. Not dust. But a platform suspended in the void, beneath a sky of flame and ash.
Around him stood towering halls carved from obsidian and silver, floating platforms in perfect orbit, magical glyphs dancing in the air like fireflies. Everything pulsed with life, like the academy itself was breathing.
[Instance: Hollow Archive Campus – Initiating Tutorial Sequence]
From thin air, a figure materialized before him—transparent, robed in flames. Not a person. A projection.
"Welcome, heir of Vaelthorn," it spoke, its voice deep and metallic."You stand within the last sanctuary of your House. The Academy of Fire and Ash—built atop memory, war, and sacrifice."
Lucien's hands clenched.
"I don't know this place," he said. "I don't even know what Vaelthorn means."
The projection didn't falter.
"You carry its blood. That is enough. You have awakened the Hollow Core—something that should not exist. Something forbidden."
"That makes you dangerous. That makes you… ours."
Lucien frowned. "Then tell me who I was. Who I am."
"You are the echo of a curse. A broken legacy. The last scion of a house that burned half a realm to dust."
"And if you want answers… you'll need to survive the Trials."
A circle of flame formed beneath him.
Lucien stepped back instinctively, but it was too late. Glyphs surged up his legs, etching symbols across his skin. They didn't burn—they chilled, like ice against bone.
[Trial Initiated: Core Synchronization — Level 1]Objective: Survive.
Suddenly, the ground shattered.
He fell.
And landed in an arena carved from obsidian, walls ringed with blades and fire. A dozen portals opened in the air above—each spewing out twisted mockeries of men and beasts, constructs of bone and ember.
Lucien didn't hesitate.
He raised his hand. The sigil on his palm pulsed.
[NULL DOMAIN: 42% Activated]
The closest construct lunged—and froze mid-air.
Lucien dashed forward, slicing through it with his void blade in one motion. It collapsed into dust and data. The others followed quickly, mindless and relentless.
But something in him moved faster.
With each strike, his body responded before his thoughts. The blade danced, curving around attacks, carving perfect lines through weak points. It wasn't instinct.
It was memory.
Someone else's memory.
A flicker of a scene:—Lucien, older. Surrounded by flame. Eyes silver, blade dripping with void. Standing alone atop a battlefield of gods.
He staggered, and the vision vanished.
He returned to the moment, panting. All enemies were gone.
[Trial Complete: Synchronization Level 1: 73%]New Skill Acquired: Hollow Blink (Short-range Phase Step)Combat Rank Assigned: B-Class (Provisional)
Note: Potential exceeds evaluation parameters.
The projection returned, now more solid, its flames calmer.
"You've survived your first test. Few ever did."
Lucien looked up, exhausted, but firm. "Then I'll survive the rest."
"Many will come for you, Lucien Vaelthorn. To use you. To kill you. To worship you.""The Realms are waking. The Hollow has returned. And you... are its vessel."
The projection faded.
The obsidian arena rumbled.
Lucien was left alone in the heat and silence—his blade in hand, fire dancing on his skin, and a thousand questions burning in his veins.
To be continued in Chapter 3: The Inheritor's Trial