The crypt beneath Blackthorn Vale smelled of wet stone and decay. I knelt on the uneven floor, the Grave-Maw Boar's micro–Dao Shard cradled in my palm.
It pulsed faintly, death-tinged energy radiating outward, delicate yet sharp as a scalpel. The Warden above stirred at the disturbance—tiny threads of golden light brushing against the vaults and shadows of the Keep.
[Reforge Option: Fuse Death Shard → Hollow Death Sigil – 12 AP]
Twelve Abyss Points. Pain. Risk of Fate Backwash. I considered storing it, letting the shard sleep… but curiosity demanded more.
Fuse it.
I spent the AP, feeling the shard collapse, twist, and meld into a sigil of hollowed death. Its pattern crawled along my palm, then imprinted invisibly beneath my skin.
[AP Balance: −12][Hollow Death Sigil Complete]
The moment it fused, the world turned jagged. Fate itself recoiled. A cascade of coincidences threatened to crush me: a falling lantern, a loose stone underfoot, a blade swinging from a careless guard. One misstep, and death would be immediate.
The System hummed coldly. Mechanical, unjudging, waiting.
I calculated three counter-coincidences. Each movement precise, each breath timed:
Step aside, letting a loose stone slide harmlessly.
Diverted swinging blade with a fraction of Hollow Palm energy.
Snatched the falling lantern mid-fall.
The day ended. Fate's backwash passed… and I survived.
[Micro-Siphon Unlocked: Can pluck single filaments from weak fate threads once/day. AP +1, painful.]
I exhaled slowly. The shard's energy throbbed faintly, now bound to me, a whisper of death I could command.
The interface flickered in my mind. Tiny letters glimmered, mechanical, teasing:
[Fate Eater: 1% Calibrated]
A door had opened. A door I had barely glimpsed.
And I had survived the first brush with what lay beyond.
The Warden's gaze lingered, golden light tracing across the crypt, marking me as a disturbance, a predator in threads.
Let it watch. Let it wait. I was learning.
And learning was survival.