The world was silent. Only the faint drip of blood echoed through the cavern.
Aaryan sat cross-legged, his body trembling. His veins pulsed with a black radiance — like ink spreading through his very soul.
> "So this… is the Sha essence," he whispered, voice hoarse but steady.
Around him, corpses lay in twisted postures. The miners who mocked him hours ago now served as nourishment for his awakening. Their life force had been devoured, leaving behind shriveled husks.
Aaryan opened his palm.
A black flame flickered above it — silent, cold, without light.
He smiled faintly. Not from joy, but realization.
In this cruel world, mercy was a luxury reserved for the powerful. He had neither mercy nor power. Only hunger.
> "The weak rot in the dark. The strong become the dark."
He clenched his fist, crushing the shadow flame into his skin. It burned without heat — a sensation beyond pain, more like existence itself being rewritten.
The voice in his mind whispered again — a memory from that ancient stone tablet:
"The Sha devours the light. The Sha devours the soul. The Sha devours fate."
Aaryan understood then.
This wasn't a gift.
It was a curse — and a path.
He would use it.
He tore a piece of cloth from a corpse and wiped the blood off his face. His gaze was calm, almost detached, as he stood amidst the death he caused.
> "They feared monsters," he murmured. "Now they have one."
From that day onward, the mines whispered a name that spread like poison —
The Shadowborn.
And Aaryan's cultivation began.
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Next Chapter: Chapter 3 – Devour to Live