The world greeted him with pain.
Sharp, electric, bone-deep pain that surged through every limb as Lucian sucked in a jagged breath and felt the sting of dust and iron enter his lungs. His fingers clawed instinctively at the ground beneath him, grasping broken stone that crumbled under his nails. The air tasted burnt, metallic, and older than memory itself.
He didn't know his name yet.
He didn't know the year, or the land, or the sky above him.
He only knew that he had **died**.
He felt that truth with the certainty of a blade pressed to the throat. A cold heaviness still lingered in his chest, like the last echo of a fatal wound. His heart throbbed in uneven rhythms, sluggish from the transition between death and… whatever this was.
A low wind dragged itself across the fractured plain. It carried the scent of ash and old storms, and as Lucian pushed himself up on trembling elbows, his vision blurred with green afterimages.
The ground stretched infinitely around him.
A shattered expanse of blackened stone, fissured into sharp ridges and cracked valleys. It looked like the skeleton of a world broken open—charred earth glowing faintly with threads of green light pulsing deep beneath the fractures.
The glow reflected in his half-open eyes.
It pulsed again.
Once.
Twice.
A slow heartbeat of the land.
Lucian blinked, breath catching as a realization coiled through him:
**The ground was alive.**
Or at least… reacting.
He steadied himself, pushing up until he sat upright, chest rising and falling with thin, struggling breaths. Every muscle burned as though he had sprinted miles through fire, and his skin prickled with the discomfort of having been stitched back together too quickly.
Something cold brushed his wrist.
Lucian flinched—
—and chains rattled.
He stared down, chest tightening.
Two iron shackles clung loosely around his wrists, connected by a broken length of blackened chain. The metal was cold and charred, etched with faint runes, their glow fading as though the energy that once powered them had been drained to nothing.
Strange.
They looked as if they should weigh him into the earth.
Yet the broken links hung feather-light, like ornaments of a past life. He tugged lightly. The metal shifted, not locking, not biting into his skin—just… loose. Powerless.
**Why am I chained?**
Or—more accurately—
**Why _was_ I chained?**
Fragments of memory stirred beneath the surface of his mind.
A darkness.
A crowd screaming.
Iron bars.
Blood.
A blade coming down.
A girl's voice—
His head throbbed with a sudden spike of pain, snapping the memories away before he could hold them. He lifted a hand and pressed it against his temple, wincing, feeling grit scrape under his nails.
The sky cracked above him.
Literally.
A jagged line of green light tore through the clouds, illuminating the horizon in a surreal glow that didn't belong to nature. The clouds swirled like a living storm, emerald lightning flickering at their edges.
A low thunder rolled across the plain.
Lucian stared up at it, breath lodged in his throat.
Somewhere deep inside him, something responded.
A whisper.
A flicker.
A spark.
He clutched his chest as a heat bloomed behind his sternum, pulsing outward in a wave that made the air ripple.
Then—
**A sigil flared on his chest.**
Burning green light burst across his skin in branching lines, racing along his collarbones, down his arms, across his ribs. It flowed like living circuitry, veins illuminated from within.
Lucian gasped and doubled over until his forehead touched the cracked stone.
Fire.
Ice.
Electricity.
The sensation was indescribable—his body awakening piece by unnatural piece.
Then, a voice.
Clear. Mechanical. Cold.
A voice that was not his.
---
### **SYSTEM INITIALIZING…**
### **ASH CORE DETECTED.**
### **REINCARNATION PROTOCOL SUCCESSFUL.**
### **AWAKENING: 1% COPY CAPACITY – ASH SPARK.**
---
Lucian's eyes widened as the glowing veins pulsed brighter, syncing with each line of text that flashed behind his eyelids.
Reincarnation.
Ash Core.
Copy capacity.
His throat tightened.
He hadn't imagined this.
He hadn't hallucinated it.
He had really died.
And now—
he had really returned.
The sky thundered again, as if acknowledging the truth.
The pulsing veins dimmed slightly, settling into a steady glow beneath his skin. The heat faded to a faint warmth, like embers cooling but refusing to die.
Lucian stared at his trembling hands, the stray green veins threading across the knuckles. The lines faded slowly, but traces remained like faint scars of light.
It felt… wrong.
Yet familiar.
His lips parted around the whisper of a thought:
**Have I seen this before?**
But the memory did not come. Only the feeling.
He forced himself upright, legs unsteady beneath him. The world tilted briefly, and he braced a hand against the cracked stone until the vertigo passed.
Footsteps crunched nearby.
Lucian's body tensed.
He whipped his gaze toward the sound—
and saw a figure approaching through the haze of ash drifting low over the ground.
Tall.
Armored.
Cloaked in the same green-tinged stormlight that painted the horizon.
The figure stopped several paces away, boots planted firmly on the fractured earth. A mask of metal and bone obscured the face beneath, shaped like a beast's snarling maw.
A voice rang out, deep and echoing:
"You survived the fall."
Lucian blinked, struggling to process.
The masked figure tilted their head, regarding him with clinical curiosity. "Interesting. Most don't survive the impact. Fewer still wake the sky."
Lucian swallowed, his throat burning with dryness. "Who… who are you?"
The figure ignored the question.
Instead, they asked:
"What do you remember?"
Lucian hesitated, instinct telling him the truth could be dangerous. But lies required clarity he didn't possess.
"I… remember dying."
A pause.
The figure nodded once. "Good. That means the chains didn't bind your mind as tightly as the others."
Lucian glanced at the broken shackles. "These?"
"Yes." The masked figure stepped closer. "You broke them on rebirth. The sky reacted."
Lucian frowned. "Why would the sky react?"
The wind shifted.
The masked figure studied him as if examining an artifact newly unearthed.
"Because," they said quietly,
"you weren't meant to return."
Lucian's breath froze.
But the figure wasn't finished.
"And because the Ash Core within you should not exist."
Thunder cracked overhead.
Lucian whispered, "Ash Core… you know what this is?"
"I know enough." The figure paused. "Enough to recognize a danger."
Lucian stepped back, instincts flaring. "A danger to who?"
The masked figure didn't answer.
Instead, they pointed toward the far horizon where green lightning split the clouds apart.
"To the world," they said.
"And to yourself."
More footsteps echoed behind the first figure.
Lucian turned sharply as **two more armored guardians** emerged over a ridge. Each wore the same beast-masked helmets, the same ash-stained cloaks. They approached with the confidence of predators—steady, precise, controlled.
The first guardian spoke without looking away from Lucian.
"Warden's orders were simple. If the reincarnator survived…"
Lucian tensed.
"…bring him to the Ash Pits at once."
Reincarnator.
The word hit him like a blow.
Not prisoner.
Not slave.
Not captive.
Reincarnator.
His pulse quickened. The green veins flickered faintly, responding to the spike of emotion.
One of the new arrivals stiffened. "His veins are already active."
"That fast?" the first guardian murmured. "Impossible."
Lucian felt heat in his chest—growing, coiling, ready to ignite.
The Ash Core responded to danger.
He didn't know how he knew that, but it rang true.
Another memory fragment flickered at the edge of his consciousness:
A girl.
Silver eyes.
A blade glinting with sorrow.
He reached for the memory—
but it slipped through his fingers like smoke.
The guardians approached in formation.
"Don't resist," the first said. "Your chains are broken. That means your Core is unstable."
Lucian's jaw tightened.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's happening."
The masked face tilted slightly.
"Very well," the guardian said.
Then raised a hand—
—and the ground trembled beneath Lucian's feet.
The cracked earth shuddered—a deep, resonant vibration spreading out in ripples from the guardian's raised hand. Dust plumed upward, drifting like smoke torn from sleeping embers. Lucian staggered but kept his footing, instinct pushing him to brace, to center his weight, to prepare without knowing how he knew what to prepare for.
A second pulse followed the first, sharper, more deliberate.
The fissures in the ground around him lit with **green fire**.
Lucian's eyes widened as glowing veins surged through the stone, echoing the lines burning faintly beneath his skin. The earth responded to him the way it responded to the sky. As though the world recognized something inside him—something it feared or hungered for.
The nearest guardian hissed through the beast-helm. "He's resonating with the Basin. Warden will want him contained."
Lucian grit his teeth. "Stop talking about me like I'm some—"
The guardian cut him off by slamming their staff into the ground.
A shockwave tore outward, lifting debris and ash into a swirling column. Lucian felt the wind whip across his face, hair snapping against his forehead. The green glow beneath the earth flickered violently.
The first guardian stepped forward through the dust-filled air. "You were reborn in the Shatterfield," they said. "That alone marks you as dangerous."
Lucian spat dirt from his mouth. "I didn't choose where I woke up."
"No one does."
"Exactly."
"Which is why most do not survive."
Lucian stiffened as the guardian examined the dimming glow on his arms. "Your Core awakened prematurely. You should have been bound longer. Your memories suppressed."
Lucian's voice was low. "Why were they suppressed at all?"
A pause.
A shift in the air.
The guardians exchanged a glance not meant for him to see.
Finally the first guardian answered:
"Because reincarnators… remember too much."
Lucian opened his mouth to demand answers, but the earth trembled again, this time from heavy footsteps approaching across the cracked horizon. The guardians straightened instantly.
A shadow appeared.
Tall. Cloaked in tattered dark robes. Carrying no weapon, yet radiating an authority that pressed against Lucian's chest like a physical force.
The guardians bowed their heads.
"**Warden.**"
Lucian turned to the approaching figure.
The Warden's face was half-hidden beneath a hood, but stark white hair spilled over his shoulders, catching the green stormlight. His eyes glowed faintly—not green like Lucian's veins, but molten amber, as though someone had trapped the last dying rays of the sun inside his irises.
A cruel warmth flickered there.
Not compassion.
Recognition.
He stopped a few feet away, studying Lucian with the attention one might give to a rare weapon pulled from an ancient vault.
"So," the Warden murmured. "Another one crawls out of the storm."
Lucian's heart hammered. "What do you want with me?"
"What all Wardens want." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Survival. Order. And answers."
Lucian stepped back. The chains around his wrists rattled.
"Why was I shackled?"
"Because you were not meant to remember who you were," the Warden said simply. "Your past life carried truths this world is not ready to face."
Lucian swallowed. "Truths like what?"
"Like why you died."
"Why you returned."
"And why the sky cracked the moment you woke."
Lightning split the clouds, illuminating the Warden's face fully for the first time. His expression was unreadable—part scholar, part predator, part judge.
He looked at Lucian's glowing veins.
"Your Core resonates louder than the others," he murmured. "Louder than any reincarnator in generations."
Lucian clenched his fists. "You keep using that word."
"Yes." The Warden nodded. "Reincarnator. One whose death was insufficient to end their story."
Lucian's breath caught. Memories flickered—shadows, blades, a girl's sorrowful eyes.
"Explain," he demanded.
"In time," the Warden said. "But for now, you will come with us."
Lucian tensed. "I'm not going anywhere until you—"
His words cut off as the Warden lifted a hand.
Lucian felt pressure clamp around his lungs. The air thickened. Not painfully, but with an undeniable command—like gravity itself had shifted its allegiance.
The Warden's voice was gentle. Too gentle.
"Do not fight. The Shatterfield is unstable when a reincarnator awakens. Another surge of your Core could collapse the Basin."
Lucian struggled to breathe. His glowing veins pulsed harder, brighter.
"I can't come with you," he managed, voice strained. "Not blind."
"Blindness is the nature of rebirth," the Warden said softly. "But refusing guidance is the nature of death."
Lucian's pulse roared in his ears. The Ash Core inside him grew hotter, reacting instinctively. Responding to threat.
He felt it gathering power.
Like lightning behind bone.
Like fire beneath skin.
**ASH CORE LEVEL: STRESS RESPONSE**
**VEIN AMPLIFICATION: 12%**
**OVERHEAT RISK: LOW**
The Warden's eyes narrowed. "You would ignite your Core against me?"
Lucian didn't know the answer. His body moved without thought, instinct overriding reason.
The Core surged—
veins blazing from faint green to brilliant emerald white.
The guardians stumbled back.
The Warden's smile sharpened.
"Interesting."
Lucian lunged.
The world blurred.
Green light exploded from Lucian's arms, trailing behind him in streaks like comet tails. He didn't understand how he moved so fast, or why every sense sharpened to a painful clarity. He only knew that the Warden was a threat—an obstacle—a barrier between him and answers he desperately needed.
The Warden raised one hand.
A single finger.
The air hardened.
Lucian slammed into an invisible force that felt like hitting a wall of iron. Pain radiated through his shoulder, and he staggered back, breath knocked from his chest.
The Warden lowered his hand. "Blunt. Predictable. You fight like one newly reborn."
Lucian grit his teeth, forcing his body upright. His veins pulsed again.
**ASH CORE ADAPTATION ACTIVE**
**MOVEMENT EFFICIENCY: +1%**
**MUSCLE RESPONSE TIME: +1%**
The Warden lifted an eyebrow. "Already improving. Dangerous indeed."
Lucian's pulse quickened. These glowing veins… were they the Core's way of evolving him? Of compensating for weakness? Of bridging gaps he didn't yet understand?
The Warden flicked his fingers lightly.
Chains of darkness erupted from the ground, wrapping around Lucian's ankles and wrists. They were not physical metal but ash-shaped forms, forged from shadow and storm.
Lucian gasped as they tightened.
The Warden stepped closer until his amber eyes filled Lucian's vision.
"Listen to me, reincarnator," he murmured. "If you ignite your Core fully here, you will end the Shatterfield, yourself, and everything within ten leagues."
Lucian struggled, veins blazing. "Let go."
"No," the Warden said. "You must learn control first. And that cannot happen here."
Lucian's breath hitched. The chains tightened further—
—then snapped.
The shockwave burst outward like a cracked star.
The guardians were thrown to their knees. The sky flared green. Lightning speared downward, striking the earth in a perfect circle around Lucian.
He stood in the center.
Breathing hard.
Veins blazing bright.
Eyes reflecting the emerald storm above.
The Warden exhaled slowly. "A Core-breaker. Just like the prophecy warned."
Lucian didn't understand. Didn't care. All he knew was that he would not be dragged anywhere without knowing the truth.
"What am I?" he whispered.
The Warden held his gaze.
"An error," he said.
The sky cracked again.
Lucian's veins pulsed—
—and the Ash Core roared awake.
The surge began in his chest.
A single pulse of heat—sharp, precise—like something had struck flint inside his ribs and ignited a spark that had waited lifetimes to burn. Lucian stumbled backward, instinctively curling a hand against the glow beneath his sternum.
The Warden's expression shifted from cold interest to something closer to alarm.
"Stop," he commanded.
Lucian couldn't.
The light beneath his skin flared again—spreading upward through his throat, downward through his spine, outward along his arms and legs. The green veins that had been flickering like dying embers now burned hot and alive, branching across his limbs in glowing fractures.
The guardians scrambled backward, boots skidding on cracked stone.
"He's overloading!" one shouted.
The Warden didn't move. He watched—studied—measured the radiating glow.
"Not overloading," he murmured. "Not yet. This is an initialization event."
Lucian's breath came ragged. Each inhale dragged fire into his lungs, each exhale left his throat raw. He felt the Core inside him—felt its hunger, its emptiness, its _purpose_—like the beating of a second heart.
The sky responded.
Clouds churned violently overhead, swirling into a vortex. Lightning slashed downward, not chaotic but deliberate, as if following the rhythm of Lucian's pulse.
A deep hum vibrated through the Basin.
Lucian's knees buckled.
Images flickered behind his eyes—broken memories struggling to surface:
A sword dripping with silver light.
A girl standing across from him, eyes filled with sorrow.
A fall.
A promise.
A death.
He gasped, reaching out instinctively as the memory of that girl—her voice, her stance, the way she said his name—slipped just out of reach.
The Warden's voice cut through the storm.
"Lucian Raine."
Lucian froze.
That name—
his name—
rang through him like a bell struck inside bone.
He didn't know if it was right.
He didn't know if it was wrong.
But it was familiar.
Deeply, painfully familiar.
"You remember it," the Warden said, stepping closer. "Good. That will make this easier."
Lucian lifted his head, veins blazing, fury trembling in his jaw. "How do you know who I am?"
The Warden's eyes gleamed. "Because I was there when you died."
The world narrowed.
The storm roared.
Lucian surged forward without thinking—each step carrying more power than the last, his feet cracking the earth beneath them. He wasn't running. He wasn't attacking.
He was reacting.
Pure instinct.
Pure survival.
Pure rebirth.
The Warden raised a hand—
—but this time Lucian didn't collide with a barrier.
He moved faster.
His glowing veins brightened, and his limbs felt light, responsive, already adapting.
**ASH CORE TEMPORARY BOOST**
**REACTION SPEED: +1%**
**MUSCLE OUTPUT: +1%**
**BALANCE CORRECTION: +1%**
These small increments meant nothing on their own.
But stacked, amplified, echoed—
they made a world of difference.
Lucian twisted midair, momentum snapping cleanly as he redirected his leap and swung a glowing fist toward the Warden's chest.
The Warden caught it with one hand.
Not roughly.
Not angrily.
Almost gently.
"You've awakened too early," he said. "Your Core is wild."
Lucian snarled, teeth gritted. "Let go of me!"
A pulse of energy surged through his fist. The green veins along his arm flared brighter, and heat built beneath his skin like a rising tide.
The Warden's eyes widened—
Not with fear.
With recognition.
"Ah," he whispered. "The First Spark."
The energy detonated.
A shockwave burst outward in a perfect sphere of green light, sending the Warden skidding across the ground for the first time. The guardians screamed as the blast threw them backward, armor ringing against stone.
Lucian stumbled, dropping to one knee as exhaustion washed over him. The veins dimmed sharply, flickering like dying embers.
He gasped for breath.
His chest ached from the inside out.
His muscles trembled like overstrained wires.
His vision blurred at the edges.
The Warden rose slowly, brushing dust from his robes.
"For a newborn Core," he said, "you are violently promising."
Lucian glared through the dizziness. "Stop—calling me that."
"What would you prefer?" the Warden asked, stepping closer again. "Gladiator? Slave? Ash-bound? Reincarnator?"
"I don't know," Lucian whispered. "I don't even remember who I was."
"Precisely," the Warden replied. "Which is why you must not ignite your Core again."
Lucian tried to rise. His legs trembled. The glow under his skin flickered.
"I don't trust you," he said.
"That is wise." The Warden nodded. "Trust no one in this world. Especially not me."
Lucian frowned. "Then why—"
"Because the world will hunt you," the Warden said calmly, "and I am the only one who can train you to survive it."
Lightning split the sky again, illuminating the ridge behind Lucian. More shapes approached—dozens this time. Soldiers in dark armor, beast-masked helmets, carrying spears etched with Ash runes.
The Warden gestured toward them.
"You see? Already the Basin draws predators."
Lucian's glow dimmed further. His body swayed. He felt cold, suddenly and deeply, as though the Core had drained too much energy too quickly.
The Warden knelt on one knee before him—an unexpected gesture of lowered posture, almost like a battlefield oath.
"Lucian Raine," he said quietly. "If you wish to live long enough to remember the truth of your last death… you must come with me."
Lucian's gaze flicked between the advancing soldiers, the cracking sky, and the Warden's steady eyes.
He was too weak to fight.
Too unstable to ignite the Core again.
Too lost to navigate the Basin alone.
But something inside him—
something ancient, familiar—
whispered that this man was not an enemy.
Not a friend.
But not an enemy.
The Warden extended a hand.
Lucian hesitated.
His veins flickered faintly—soft green threads across his skin, urging, guiding.
Finally, he reached out.
Their hands met—
—and the Basin roared.
A pillar of green light shot skyward from beneath Lucian's feet, piercing the clouds. The soldiers halted instantly, weapons raised. Guardians ducked behind rocks. The air buzzed with energy so dense it distorted sight and sound.
The Warden held firm.
Lucian felt the world shift—
as though reality itself acknowledged his rebirth.
Far above, in the storm-scarred sky, a single eye-shaped distortion blinked open for a heartbeat.
Watching.
Judging.
Waiting.
Then it vanished.
The Warden exhaled slowly. "It is done."
Lucian panted, drained, trembling. "What—was that?"
"The Ash Core," the Warden said, rising. "Accepting you."
Lucian frowned. "Accepting me?"
"Yes." The Warden's gaze drifted toward the distant horizon. "Now the world will do the opposite."
He turned to the soldiers.
"Bind him," he commanded. "But do not shackle his wrists. We have no desire to provoke another awakening."
Lucian stiffened as two armored guards approached cautiously. Instead of chains, they used a glowing rope of Ash-light—more symbolic than restraining.
The Warden stepped beside him.
"Your rebirth," he said, "is the beginning of a war the world does not yet understand."
Lucian swallowed. "And me?"
The Warden's amber eyes gleamed.
"You," he said, "are the weapon neither side is ready for."