Chapter 1
When Rylen opened his eyes deep within the forest, he wasn't met with a familiar sight. The tall trunks of pine trees loomed under the misty morning light, darkened by the shadows, while the wind's howl competed almost with the sound of a human voice. His body ached, his spirit was weary; the last thing he could remember was his village burning overnight, leaving nothing behind but ashes.
He whispered to himself,
"Everything… is gone…"
The soil beneath his feet was cold and damp. The scent of charred wood carried on the wind, dragging him back into the pain of the past. Rylen stepped forward, and his foot struck something hard. Kneeling, he uncovered an old sword buried in the earth. Its hilt was broken, the metal dark yet gleaming as if it had been born from the shadows themselves.
When he placed his hand on the sword, a strange electricity ran through him. His heart raced, and his eyes glimmered with a reddish hue. A voice echoed in his mind:
"You have chosen me, Rylen. There is no turning back now."
Rylen was stunned by the silent yet undeniable certainty emanating from the sword.
"Wh… what are you saying? Who am I to wield something like this?"
There was no reply. Only the wind's howl, and from the depths of the forest, a distant scream… he couldn't tell if it was human, animal, or something else entirely.
He quickened his steps, but with each stride, the shadows shifted differently. It was as if the forest knew him, as if it was testing him. He took a deep breath and gripped the sword tightly. A power within him lifted him to his feet. He was no longer a child; the pain of his losses had transformed into anger.
And then, his first enemy appeared:
A black silhouette emerged from the shadows with a swift, fluid motion. It was humanoid, yet completely warped, its face grotesque. Rylen realized: these were not spirits of the forest. These were… lost souls, twisted by a curse.
"You… you're alive…" Rylen stammered, his heart pounding.
One of the shadows lunged forward; its speed was beyond human comprehension. Rylen instinctively raised his sword. The clash when metal met shadow lit the surroundings like fire. Black energy and crimson sparks illuminated the night as if it were day.
The first strike empowered Rylen's sword. An energy he had never felt before surged through his body; pain gave way to strength and determination. The enemy retreated but only for a moment. The shadows regrouped and attacked again. Rylen struggled to steady his breath, but each strike, each maneuver, made him stronger.
"This… sword… it's helping me," he thought. "But why? Who… or what?"
Amid the assault, Rylen noticed symbols burning along the blade. Each glyph seemed inscribed in an ancient language; as his eyes traced them, a flood of knowledge washed over his mind:
The sword was the legacy of a cursed lineage.
Whoever wielded it would grow to become the master of shadows.
But all power came with a price.
After fending off the attack, Rylen sank to his knees, exhaling deeply. Yet in his eyes burned a resolute fire. There was no turning back; he had lost his village, his family was gone, and life hadn't given him a second chance.
"I… will become stronger," Rylen said, his voice fearless. "I will reclaim everything. And I will stop them."
At that moment, another scream echoed from the depths of the forest. But this time, it wasn't just a scream; it was a call. The call of lost souls and darkness pulled Rylen toward a new world, a journey filled with unknown dangers.
He quickened his steps. The sword vibrated almost as if alive, guiding him. With every step, new figures emerged from the shadows. Some were the spirits of ancient warriors, others entirely unknown beings. All of them were there to test Rylen's strength.
Hours passed. Time flowed differently in the forest. With each encounter, Rylen grew stronger. The sword's symbols glowed brighter, sharpening not only his physical strength but his mental acuity. His reflexes became superhuman; his eyes could catch the slightest movement in the shadows.
Finally, a beam of light pierced the night, leading Rylen to a clearing. There stood a great stone altar, carved with ancient inscriptions, grooves, and symbols from a bygone era. The sword in Rylen's hand quivered, and the symbols on it glowed on their own.
"Here… is where it begins," Rylen said, his voice a mixture of determination and faint fear. "Everything… starts here."
At that moment, a dark silhouette appeared around the altar. This enemy was different; no longer just a shadow, but a tangible presence. Its eyes glowed red, and its body was clad in armor. Rylen raised his sword and took a deep breath. There was no turning back.
"Welcome, chosen one," the enemy said, its voice echoing. "This is your trial… and if you fail, you will be consumed by darkness."
Rylen gripped the sword tightly and stepped forward. This was the beginning of his journey a path where loss, curses, and power intertwined…