Ren wasn't a hero. He didn't want to be.
He came to Ashes of Empyrea for one simple reason: peace.
Unlike most who rushed to level up or hunt rare monsters, Ren wandered. He liked the quiet. The hum of forests, the rustle of wind through ancient leaves, the warmth of NPC conversations—even when most players ignored them.
To Ren, the NPCs weren't just scripted characters. They felt real.
And in this world, where sunlight filtered gently through towering trees, where streams whispered beside mossy stones, and where the air tasted fresh and alive—he could almost pretend it wasn't a game at all.
He didn't know how close to the truth he was.
Today was supposed to be simple. He'd woken early, avoiding the busy markets and noisy gathering spots, and headed east toward the untamed wilds. Past the known roads. Past the leveling zones. He found comfort in the places others overlooked.
A narrow, overgrown path caught his eye. No quest markers. No warnings. No footprints.
Perfect, he thought.
His boots pressed softly into the damp earth as he walked. Sunlight pierced the canopy in scattered beams. Birdsong echoed faintly. Occasionally, his steps uncovered ancient stone beneath the dirt—cracked slabs of a forgotten road.
Hours passed. He didn't mind. He shared campfire bread with a wandering hunter NPC. He helped an old man repair a collapsed bridge—not for rewards, but because the man seemed tired and grateful.
And Ren liked it that way.
But the deeper he walked, the more the world changed.
No monsters prowled here. No animals stirred. Even the wind seemed reluctant to blow.
Ren stopped.
Ahead, shrouded in creeping mist, stood massive stone pillars. Cracked. Overgrown. Symbols faintly carved into their surfaces glimmered weakly, pulsing like the embers of a long-forgotten fire.
A structure. Silent. Watching.
He checked his map.
Nothing.
This structure didn't even appear.
Cautiously—curiosity stronger than fear—Ren stepped forward.
As he passed between the broken gates, the air shifted. Thick. Heavy. Like entering a sealed chamber after centuries.
Faint red glyphs glowed softly along the walls, illuminating what remained of a grand hall. Dragons—or something close to them—coiled along shattered columns, their stony gazes dim.
At the center stood a statue.
Humanoid in shape, but not human.
Clawed fingers. Folded wings. A tail. A horned head bowed low, as if in silent judgment.
Ren didn't know why he approached. Only that he felt drawn forward.
Then he heard it.
A voice.
Not in his ears. In his mind.
"At last."
The words rippled through him. Cold. Vast.
His vision blurred.
A flickering interface—foreign to the world he knew—appeared before him, etched in burning symbols rather than text.
[BLOODLINE RECOGNIZED.][SOVEREIGN CLASS PROTOCOL: ENGAGED.][WARNING: HERITAGE ACTIVATED WITHOUT CONSENT.][ADAPTIVE TRIAL WILL COMMENCE.][WORLD INTEGRATION: ACCELERATED.][SUBJECT UNDER DIVINE OBSERVATION.]
The earth rumbled.
Stone cracked. Glyphs ignited, casting blood-red light across the walls. His skin burned. His bones ached.
The statue's hollow gaze lifted toward him.
And the voice returned.
"Awaken, lost one."
Then came darkness.
When Ren awoke, he wasn't in the temple.
He lay beneath unfamiliar stars, ash in the air, muscles trembling from exhaustion.
His interface flickered uselessly in the corner of his vision.
He staggered to a nearby stream, cupping water in shaking hands… then froze.
Two small horns now curved from his forehead.
Real.
Not equipment. Not cosmetic.
Real.
And when he instinctively reached for the logout option… it wasn't there.
Not disabled.
Gone.
Ren sat back, breathing slowly, heart pounding.
Something far above watched.
And somewhere, silently, the gods began to move.