The village was quiet after the raider attack. Too quiet. Ash still clung to the air, the scent of blood lingering over Hallowford.
Elder sat alone on the ruined steps of the palisade, the broken spear across his lap. His hands still trembled from the fight. Each face he struck down replayed in his mind—their screams, the blood on his skin.
And yet, deep inside, the Covenant's Seed pulsed with satisfaction.
[Trial Complete. Synchronization Level Increased: 12%.]
Then, without warning, a surge of light enveloped his vision. The world blurred away, replaced by an endless black void filled with burning white lines.
It was not the real world. It was the Covenant's domain.
A massive tree appeared before him. Its trunk was dark stone, its branches stretching endlessly into the void. Each branch burned with faintly glowing runes, like veins of living fire.
[Skill Tree Unlocked.]
Elder stepped closer. Words and symbols floated along the branches, whispering promises of power.
Branch of Flame: Unleash destructive fire at the cost of your own life force.
Branch of Steel: Harden your body and weapons beyond mortal limits.
Branch of Shadow: Conceal yourself, strike unseen, bleed your foes silently.
Branch of Dominion: Inspire terror, command lesser wills, bind them to oath.
The Covenant's voice resonated, deep and cold.
"Choose, Vessel. Your path shall shape your destiny. Every branch carries strength. Every strength demands sacrifice."
Elder's throat was dry. "Do I have to choose now?"
[Choice Required. Power lies only in decision.]
His mind raced. Fire, steel, shadow, dominion. Each path carved a different future. But which was his?
He reached toward the Branch of Steel. It glowed faintly, and words appeared:
[Skill: Iron Veins (Passive). Effect: Increases endurance. Wounds close faster in battle.]
A rush of heat coursed through his veins. His lungs felt clearer, his limbs sturdier. The weakness of exhaustion lessened, replaced by raw resilience.
[Skill Acquired: Iron Veins.]
But as the glow faded, Elder noticed something else. The other branches twisted, their runes dimming, as if punished by his choice. He could still see them, but faint, waiting… demanding a price if he wished to touch them later.
When his vision cleared, he was back on the palisade, breathing heavily. His skin itched, his wounds tingled as though stitching themselves closed.
"It's real," he whispered. "It's all real."
Mara approached quietly, her steps heavy with exhaustion. She studied him, then the broken weapon at his side.
"You fought like no man I've ever seen," she said bluntly. "And you carry wounds that should've killed you. Yet here you sit, alive."
Elder avoided her gaze. "I… don't know how to explain it."
"Then don't." Mara folded her arms. "But hear this—Hallowford is grateful. Still, gratitude won't protect us forever. Raiders will return. Monsters will too. And beyond that…" she looked toward the horizon, "…there are empires who would devour us without thought."
Her words carried weight. Elder realized then how fragile the village truly was.
And the Covenant's whisper only twisted deeper.
[The weak will cling to you. They will look to you. Their survival or their ruin—such will be written in your hand.]
Elder clenched his fists. I never asked for this. I only wanted to live.
But fate had already chosen.
That night, sleep eluded him. He dreamt of the tree again, its branches stretching endlessly, its whispers promising more. But there was something darker beneath.
At the roots of the tree, shadows writhed—faces of the men he had killed, eyes wide, mouths open in silent screams.
He woke drenched in sweat, the Covenant's voice echoing faintly.
"Power demands memory. And memory demands blood."
By dawn, the council summoned him. The village elder, a frail man with cloudy eyes, looked at Elder as though measuring his very soul.
"You are not of this world," the elder murmured. "I see it in your bearing, your words. Something ancient walks with you."
Elder stiffened. "You… know?"
The old man shook his head. "I know nothing. Only that men touched by such powers are fated to change the course of kingdoms."
The council chamber fell silent. Every villager present stared at Elder, half in awe, half in fear.
Mara finally broke the silence. "What do you intend, Elder? Will you stay and fight for us—or walk away, leaving us to burn?"
The question struck harder than any blade. Elder had no answer. His heart was torn between his will to survive and the strange responsibility thrust upon him.
The Covenant, as always, whispered coldly.
[Your path is chosen, Vessel. Whether you accept it or not, their lives now bind to yours. And in the end, you will pay the cost.]