The Basin wind howled as they marched.
Lucian's steps were uneven at first, the ground still trembling in response to the lingering storm of his awakening. Every movement made the faint green veins along his arms flicker as though trying to reignite. He kept his fists clenched at his sides, more to steady himself than in defiance.
The Warden walked a few paces ahead, tall and silent, robes fluttering like torn banners against the wind. Soldiers flanked Lucian on both sides, clad in dark ash-forged armor that clicked softly with each step.
None dared touch him.
Even bound by a rope of Ash-light rather than metal, Lucian sensed their caution—
not out of respect,
but fear.
He could smell it on them.
Hear it in the slight hitch of their breaths when the green veins on his skin brightened.
See it in the way they involuntarily leaned away each time he passed too close.
Lucian inhaled slowly. "Why does everyone look at me like I'm about to explode?"
One of the soldiers flinched.
Another muttered, "Because you almost did."
The Warden didn't turn, but his voice drifted back through the wind.
"The Shatterfield reacts violently to reincarnators. Most Core awakenings are… modest. Yours nearly tore the sky open."
Lucian frowned, stepping over a jagged rock that pulsed faintly with green light. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"No one ever does," the Warden replied. "Rebirth is not a gift. It is a summons."
Lucian's jaw tightened. "Summons to what?"
The Warden didn't answer.
They walked another long stretch across the broken plain, passing fissures glowing with emerald energy, each one echoing the storm that churned above them. Lucian glanced up, the sky swirling like an enormous eye half-awake and irritated.
"How far to the Ash Pits?" Lucian asked.
"Close," the Warden said. "We'll reach the Outskirts before nightfall."
"And then?"
"Then," the Warden said, "your real test begins."
Lucian stopped walking.
He didn't know why he stopped—only that his instincts screamed at him that something was coming. The wind shifted. Dust spiraled upward in sharp curls. The air thickened as the green luminescence beneath the ground flickered like a heartbeat skipping a beat.
The soldiers froze.
The Warden turned slowly, his amber eyes narrowing. "Move away from him. Now."
The soldiers backed up immediately.
Lucian swallowed hard. "What's happening?"
The Warden stepped closer, gaze sharp. "Your Core is reacting to a threat."
Lucian scanned the horizon—but saw nothing.
"No threat," he murmured.
The Warden shook his head. "Not to you. To _it_."
A low rumble rolled beneath their feet.
The earth cracked several meters ahead, stone splitting with a sound like bones snapping. Dust shot upward in a violent plume. Lucian staggered back.
Something crawled out.
At first, Lucian thought it was a shadow.
Then it grew teeth.
A creature dragged itself free from the fissure—a beast of stone and muscle, its body shaped like a monstrous wolf but fractured across its limbs. Glowing green cracks ran along its hide, matching the veins in Lucian's arms.
A Shatterbeast.
Wild.
Unstable.
Attracted to Ash energy.
Lucian stepped back, throat tightening. "What is that?"
"A minor beast of the Basin," the Warden murmured. "Drawn to your awakening. It senses you as food."
Lucian's muscles tensed instinctively. Sweat chilled his back.
Then—
The Ash Core pulsed.
Not violently this time.
Not painfully.
Just… awake.
**THREAT DETECTED.**
**FIRST COPY OPPORTUNITY AVAILABLE.**
Text flashed behind Lucian's eyelids, clean and emotionless.
He blinked. "First… what?"
The beast snarled, revealing jagged stone fangs dripping molten residue. It padded forward, slow, deliberate, each step fracturing the ground beneath it.
Lucian's pulse quickened.
His veins flickered.
Something within him waited—hungry.
The Warden turned to the soldiers. "Do not interfere."
"But Warden—!"
"Let him face it," the Warden commanded.
Lucian stared at him. "Face it? With what? I don't even have a weapon!"
"You have a Core," the Warden said. "And the Basin itself bends to your breath. That is more than any blade."
Lucian cursed under his breath and turned back to the beast.
It lunged.
Lucian barely dodged.
The beast's massive claws slammed into the ground where he had stood, cracking it open in a web of glowing green fractures. Lucian rolled, breath catching, dust burning in his throat.
His body moved quickly—faster than it should have.
The Core was enhancing him again.
**ASH CORE TEMPORARY BOOST**
**REACTION TIME: +2%**
**AGILITY: +2%**
Small increments.
But powerful when his life depended on them.
Lucian rose to his feet just as the beast swiped again, a wide arc that tore up chunks of stone. He ducked under it, heat brushing his back as the air ignited from the force.
He needed a weapon—anything.
He scanned the ground and spotted a jagged shard of stone, long as his forearm.
Not ideal.
Better than nothing.
Lucian grabbed it and turned to meet the creature's charge.
It lunged again, jaws wide.
Lucian thrust the shard upward, aiming for its throat. The beast twisted midair with unnatural agility, avoiding the strike and smashing into him with its shoulder instead.
The impact knocked Lucian off his feet.
He hit the ground hard—air bursting from his lungs. The world spun. The beast loomed above him, green fire glowing in its chest cavity like a furnace.
Lucian coughed, scrambling backward.
This thing wasn't just a creature.
It was a warning.
The Basin testing him.
The Core testing him.
The world testing whether he deserved his second life.
The beast lunged again—
—and Lucian's Core pulsed.
A surge of energy raced through his limbs.
Lucian rolled aside at the last moment. The beast crashed into the ground where he'd been, stone shattering. He came up on one knee, shard in hand.
**COPY POSSIBILITY: 1%**
**TARGET: SHATTERBEAST — FERAL IMPACT**
Lucian blinked. "Copy… how?"
The system answered:
**STRIKE DURING TENSION WINDOW.**
**SURVIVAL REQUIRED.**
The beast roared and charged again.
Lucian braced himself.
If he mistimed this—
he would die.
If he succeeded—
he would evolve.
He ran straight toward the beast.
The Warden watched, expression unreadable.
The soldiers behind him murmured in disbelief.
The beast's claws swung wide—
A killing blow.
Lucian ducked, sparks flying as the claws grazed the air above him. He slid beneath the creature's chest, twisting his torso and driving the stone shard into the glowing crack between its ribs.
A shock tore through him.
Green light exploded.
The beast screamed—a fractured, ear-splitting sound—stumbling back as Lucian rolled away, hand burning from the recoil.
**COPY SUCCESSFUL.**
**ABILITY ACQUIRED: FERAL IMPACT (1%).**
**STRENGTH OUTPUT: +1%.**
Lucian gasped as the veins along his arms flared bright again.
He felt it.
The stolen instinct.
The surge of raw force.
The echo of the beast's power settling into his Core.
His first copy.
The beast staggered, wounded but still alive. It snarled and limped toward him, rage burning in its fractured body.
Lucian stood.
No weapon.
No training.
Just a spark of stolen strength burning beneath his ribs.
He met the beast's charge head-on.
He slammed his fist into its chest—
—and the copied Feral Impact triggered.
Stone cracked.
Green fire burst outward.
The beast collapsed with a shuddering howl, body crumbling into pieces of cooling ash-rock.
Lucian stumbled backward, breath trembling.
The Warden stepped forward, eyes bright with interest.
"A clean kill," he murmured. "And a successful copy."
Lucian wiped dust from his face, chest heaving. "What… did I just take from it?"
"A fraction of its essence," the Warden said. "The first step toward becoming what the world fears most."
Lucian glared at him. "And what is that?"
The Warden smiled faintly.
"Someone who can steal the strength of every creature he defeats."
Lucian looked down at his glowing hands—
then at the shattered remains of the beast—
and felt the weight of his new reality settle over him like a mantle.
The Warden gestured toward the horizon.
"Welcome to your second life," he said.
Lucian didn't answer.
His veins pulsed.
And somewhere, deep inside, the Core whispered for more.
For a long moment, Lucian just stared at the shattered remains of the beast.
Green sparks flickered across the fractured stone pieces, fading slowly as the creature's unnatural life force seeped back into the Basin. His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, matching the rhythm of the veins pulsing faintly beneath his skin.
He expected to feel revulsion.
Or guilt.
Or something like fear.
Instead, he felt a hollow stillness.
As if part of him had always known he would kill again.
As if this moment wasn't new—just forgotten.
The Warden approached slowly, boots crunching on loose debris. "Do you feel it?" he asked softly.
Lucian kept his gaze locked on the cooling fragments of the beast. "Feel what?"
"The shift."
Lucian frowned. "Shift?"
The Warden gestured to Lucian's hands. The green veins glowed faintly, dimmer than during the fight but unmistakably alive.
"When you steal an echo of power," the Warden said, "your Core reshapes your body to hold it. That is why reincarnators like you are feared. You grow. Adapt. Change. Faster than the world can keep up."
Lucian flexed his fingers, watching the faint glow ripple up his wrist. His hands felt… different. Not larger, not heavier, but sharper. More responsive.
"Why was this thing drawn to me?" he asked.
The Warden crouched near the shattered remains. "Because Shatterbeasts feed on instability. They sense new power like smoke senses fire." He touched one of the broken fragments. It sizzled faintly beneath his fingertips. "And your awakening created a surge unlike anything in decades."
Lucian swallowed hard. "So it was inevitable."
"Yes." The Warden rose. "Your first kill always is."
Lucian's breath hitched. The phrase echoed in his mind like a memory:
_Your first kill is always inevitable._
Had someone said that to him before?
In a past life?
With a blade pressed to his throat?
He closed his eyes, trying to pull the memory forward.
A voice.
A girl's voice.
_"Fight me, Lucian… or die forgotten."_
His eyes snapped open.
The Warden studied him closely. "A memory?"
Lucian shook his head. "No. Just… noise."
"Noise can be truth in disguise," the Warden said. "And truth is the only anchor a reincarnator has."
Lucian didn't answer.
Silence settled between them, broken only by the wind dragging ash across stone.
Finally the Warden turned, cloak billowing. "We move."
The soldiers formed ranks again. Lucian followed, chest still tight with the echo of what he'd just done.
One kill.
One spark of stolen power.
Yet it already felt like the beginning of something too large to name.
The Shatterfield Basin sloped downward as they traveled, the cracked earth giving way to deeper scars carved by centuries of storms and forgotten battles. The green glow beneath the stone dimmed the farther they walked, replaced by duller tones of gray and black.
Lucian's legs felt stronger—not fully steady, but no longer trembling. His senses remained sharp.
He could hear the distant grind of stone.
The subtle shifts in the air currents.
The rhythmic footsteps of the soldiers flanking him.
The Core had changed him already.
He wondered what one hundred kills would do.
One thousand.
Ten thousand.
His stomach twisted at the thought.
As they descended the last ridge, the land ahead opened into a massive crater valley. The horizon dipped sharply, revealing sprawling structures carved directly into the earth—pits, trenches, and towering walls reinforced with runes that pulsed with restrained violence.
This was no village.
No fortress.
It was a prison forged for war.
The Ash Pits.
Lucian's chest tightened. "This is where you're taking me?"
"Yes," the Warden said. "The Arena's lowest rung. The birthplace of your new life."
Lucian scanned the sprawling complex. Large steel gates marked pathways down into subterranean tunnels. Smoke rose from multiple chimneys. Figures moved across the bridges and platforms—guards in black armor, fighters in chains, laborers hauling crates of weapons and ash-infused ore.
Screams echoed faintly from below.
Suffering had a sound, and this place was built from it.
Lucian's fists clenched unconsciously.
"What is this place?" he whispered.
"A crucible," the Warden said. "Those who survive it earn the right to fight in the Ash Pits' upper rings. Those who survive that earn ranks. Those who earn ranks… climb to the Arenas above."
Lucian frowned. "A survival ladder."
"Exactly."
"And if I refuse?"
The Warden gave him a look that wasn't unkind—
just devastatingly honest.
"You died once already," he said. "Refusing is how you would die again."
Lucian's jaw tightened.
He didn't come back to die.
Not before he knew the truth.
The soldiers escorted them toward a wide bridge that crossed over a chasm where molten stone flowed like a river. Heat scorched Lucian's face, and the green veins along his arms flickered as though reacting to the raw energy below.
The Warden watched their glow with interest.
"You're sensitive to Ash currents already," he observed. "Good. That sensitivity will keep you alive in the trials."
Lucian shook his head. "Stop talking like this is some training program."
"It is," the Warden said, "for those who survive."
The bridge ended at a towering gate carved with symbols that Lucian couldn't decipher—some swirling like wind, others rigid like bone. Two colossal statues flanked the entrance, shaped like armored warriors with shattered halos.
Lucian stared at them. Something about their forms felt familiar.
"Who are they?" he asked quietly.
"Reincarnators," the Warden said. "The first recorded in Arena history."
Lucian's pulse stumbled.
"What happened to them?"
"They climbed the Arena ladder," the Warden said. "And then they broke it."
Lucian swallowed hard.
The gate rumbled open.
A blast of heat and metallic stench washed over them. Lucian stepped inside, heart pounding.
Dozens of chained fighters turned toward him instantly.
Their eyes held exhaustion, hatred, hunger—and something sharper when they saw the faint glow of his veins.
Recognition.
And fear.
Lucian felt every gaze cut into him like a blade.
The Warden gestured to a long corridor leading down into the heart of the pits.
"Down there is your cell," he said. "Your trial begins tonight."
Lucian's breath caught. "Trial?"
"Yes."
The Warden paused.
His amber eyes gleamed.
"Your First Gauntlet."
Lucian stiffened. "Another fight?"
"A kill," the Warden corrected. "One that cannot be stolen. One that must be earned."
Lucian felt the Core pulse faintly—
as if preparing.
"Why me?" he whispered.
The Warden's gaze softened—just barely.
"Because you're not meant to survive," he said. "Reincarnators never are."
And with that, the Warden turned and left him at the mouth of the descending corridor.
Lucian stood alone, surrounded by chained fighters staring as though fate had delivered them a fresh sacrifice.
The green veins on his arms glowed quietly in the dim light.
His new life had begun.
And already, death waited below.
The descent into the Ash Pits felt like walking into the throat of a beast.
The corridor walls narrowed gradually, the carved stone giving way to rough-hewn tunnels reinforced with metal beams etched in unfamiliar runes. The heat intensified the deeper Lucian went, wrapping around him like a suffocating cloak. Sweat ran down his back, and the flickering green veins along his arms glowed brighter in the dark.
Torches embedded into the walls sputtered with black flame—silent, eerie, and cold despite their glow. Their shadows stretched unnaturally long, dancing across the jagged stone like skeletal fingers.
Lucian brushed his hand along the wall as he walked. The stone vibrated faintly beneath his palm.
Alive.
Breathing.
Watching.
The Ash Pits weren't just built; they were **grown**, shaped through rituals that Lucian couldn't begin to understand.
"Keep moving," a soldier behind him growled.
Lucian didn't look back. He had no chains around his wrists now—only the faint restraint of the glowing Ash-rope that allowed him to move freely while reminding him he wasn't free.
The tunnel opened suddenly into a large chamber.
Lucian stopped.
The chamber was circular, lit by a single shaft of light descending from a jagged hole far above. Dust and ash drifted down through the beam, swirling like dying stars.
Against the walls sat rows of cells made of blackened iron bars. Figures leaned against them—fighters, prisoners, survivors—watching silently as Lucian entered.
Their eyes tracked him with unsettling intensity.
Whispers rippled through the chamber:
"New blood."
"Look at his veins."
"He's glowing…"
"That one could be worth coin."
"No—dangerous. Look at the glow."
"A reincarnator?"
Lucian's heartbeat quickened.
The Warden's voice echoed from somewhere above, bouncing through the tunnels:
"Step forward, Lucian Raine."
Lucian clenched his fists and obeyed.
The soldiers behind him stopped at the chamber's entrance and didn't follow.
Only Lucian descended the final steps, the air growing colder with each one.
At the center of the chamber stood a metal door lined with cracks of green light. A symbol above it pulsed faintly—a rune shaped like an eye with three downward streaks.
Lucian felt drawn to it.
Or pulled.
Or claimed.
"Lucian Raine," the Warden's voice repeated, now edged with ceremonial gravity, "you stand before the Gate of Trial. Your First Gauntlet awaits."
Lucian swallowed hard. "What's inside?"
"A single opponent," the Warden replied. "One chosen to test the strength of your rebirth."
Lucian exhaled slowly. "Another beast?"
"No," the Warden said.
The metal door rattled violently.
A deep growl echoed from within.
Lucian's stomach turned.
It wasn't a beast.
It was human.
The Warden spoke again, voice resonant:
"In the Ash Pits, reincarnators must prove they are not soulless husks. To live here, you must kill with your own hands—not a creature, not a mindless beast, but another fighter. One who seeks their own rise."
Lucian's fingers tightened. "You want me to kill someone who's just trying to survive?"
"This is the Arena world," the Warden said. "Survival _is_ a kill."
Lucian shook his head. "No."
The Warden's voice lowered. "You must."
"Why?"
"Because," the Warden said, "if you do not kill the fighter behind that door, he will kill you. And worse—he will take your Core."
Lucian froze.
"Your kind," the Warden continued, "always draws predators. The man inside that chamber volunteered when he heard a reincarnator had awakened. He wants your Core. And if he kills you, it will dissolve into him."
Lucian's blood chilled.
A reincarnator's Core was transferable.
Kill or be killed wasn't a rule—it was protection.
Lucian stared at the door, breath shallow.
"You want me to murder someone," he whispered.
"No," the Warden said softly. "The world wants you to evolve."
The chamber fell silent.
Even the chained fighters watched with bated breath.
The Warden's final words carried through the pit:
"Enter the Gauntlet, Lucian Raine. Earn your second life."
The metal door cracked open.
Heat and darkness spilled out.
Lucian felt the Ash Core pulse—a warning, a readiness, a hunger.
He stepped inside.
The door slammed shut behind him.
The chamber beyond was suffocating.
Narrow.
Metal.
Circular.
Bare except for scorch marks and deep gouges across the floor and walls. The only light came from faint green cracks in the ceiling.
Lucian inhaled slowly. The air smelled of sweat, blood, and steel.
Then a voice emerged from the shadows.
"So. The reincarnator finally arrives."
Lucian turned sharply.
A man stepped into the dim light—tall, muscular, bare-chested except for leather straps across his torso. His arms were covered in scars, some old, some fresh. His eyes glowed faintly red beneath a mane of tangled black hair.
He cracked his neck. "You look soft."
Lucian stood straighter. "Who are you?"
The man grinned, revealing a row of teeth sharpened like a beast's.
"I'm Cassian Thorn," he said. "Ranked fighter of the Pits. And I'm the one who's going to wear that glowing Core of yours like a trophy."
Lucian stiffened. "You won't touch it."
"Oh, I will." Cassian rolled his shoulders. "Reincarnators are rare. When one appears, you kill fast. Before the Core stabilizes. Before you freaks grow too strong."
Lucian clenched his fists. "I'm not killing you."
Cassian blinked.
Then laughed. Hard.
"Oh, you really are fresh. The Pits don't care about your morals, Core-boy. Either your blood stains these walls… or mine does."
He cracked his knuckles.
"And I have no plans to die."
Lucian took a step backward, but the chamber was too small. Too enclosed. No room to flee. Nowhere to hide.
Cassian tilted his head. "You killed a Shatterbeast in the Basin. Impressive. But beasts are stupid. Predictable. I'm not."
Lucian's Core pulsed involuntarily, responding to the threat.
**THREAT LEVEL: HIGH**
**RECOMMENDED ACTION: ENGAGE**
Cassian's smile widened. "Yeah. That glow. That's what I'm here for."
Lucian exhaled shakily. "I won't kill you."
Cassian charged.
The impact of his first strike slammed Lucian into the metal wall. Pain exploded through his ribs. Lucian gasped, barely rolling aside before Cassian's fist cratered the wall where Lucian's head had been.
This man was strong.
Stronger than the beast.
Stronger than Lucian.
Cassian kicked him again, sending him skidding across the floor. Lucian coughed blood, vision blurring.
"You're weak," Cassian growled. "How did someone like you get a Core?"
Lucian forced himself upright.
"I… don't… know."
Cassian lunged.
Lucian dodged, barely, using the last remnants of the Core's earlier boosts. His veins glimmered faintly, too weak to flare fully.
He wasn't recovered.
He wasn't ready.
Cassian grabbed him by the throat, lifting him easily off the ground.
"Nice glow," he said. "Shame to waste it."
Lucian clawed at his arm, struggling to breathe.
The Core flickered.
A whisper.
A single line of text.
**COPY POSSIBILITY: 1% — TARGET: CASSIAN THORN (BERSERKER FORM)**
Lucian's eyes widened.
He could steal from people, too.
But only if he struck—
and only if he survived—
Cassian slammed him into the ground.
Lucian gasped, vision doubling.
Cassian raised his fist for the final blow—
—and Lucian's Core ignited.
Not fully.
But enough.
His veins flared bright emerald.
His hand shot upward.
His fist collided with Cassian's jaw.
The copy triggered.
**COPY SUCCESSFUL — BERSERKER INSTINCT (1%)**
**TEMPORARY BOOST: +1% STRENGTH, +1% RESISTANCE**
Lucian roared as the strength surged through him, wild and raw. He twisted, slamming his knee into Cassian's ribs. Cassian stumbled back, surprised.
Lucian rose.
Not stronger than Cassian—
but no longer helpless.
Cassian snarled and charged.
Lucian met him head-on.
Their fists collided.
The impact shook the chamber.
Blood sprayed.
Metal cracked.
Lucian's stolen Berserker Instinct flooded him—
fast reactions, brutal impulses, deadly clarity.
He let Cassian swing first—
ducked under—
slammed his elbow into Cassian's throat—
and smashed his fist into Cassian's chest.
Cassian staggered.
Lucian didn't hesitate.
He struck again.
And again.
And again.
The Core fed his movements, amplifying them by fractions that mattered.
Cassian fell to his knees.
Lucian froze, breath ragged.
He didn't want to kill him.
He didn't want this life.
But Cassian lifted his head, blood trailing from his lip, and whispered:
"Finish it… reincarnator… or I'll take your Core next time."
Lucian hesitated—
Then struck.
His fist collided with Cassian's chest.
The man fell.
His breath stopped.
His eyes dimmed.
Lucian staggered backward, chest heaving.
The Core pulsed warmly.
**FIRST HUMAN KILL CONFIRMED.**
**COPY RETAINED.**
**ASH CORE STABILITY: +3%**
Lucian's hands trembled.
He didn't feel triumphant.
Or vindicated.
Only hollow.
Only awake.
The door opened slowly behind him.
The Warden stood there in silence.
Lucian turned toward him, voice hoarse.
"I killed him."
The Warden nodded. "Yes."
Lucian's veins dimmed. "Is this what you wanted?"
"No," the Warden said quietly. "This is what the world _requires_."
Lucian closed his eyes.
The Warden stepped aside.
"Welcome to the Ash Pits," he said. "Your climb begins now."
Lucian walked past him, silent and shaking, the weight of his first human kill settling into the marrow of his bones.
Above him, the sky cracked again.
And far away—
someone felt it.
Someone whose memory brushed Lucian's mind like a blade's whisper.
_"Lucian…"_
A girl's voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
Waiting.