Bell's breath rattled in his chest as the monstrous figure stepped from the shadows. The cavern
trembled beneath its weight, each footfall a promise of devastation. The broken sword in Bell's
trembling hands felt more like a prayer than a weapon—but it was all he had.
The creature's red eyes glowed with ancient malice. Chains dragged across the stone floor as it moved
closer, the clanging echoing like a death knell. The air thickened, heavy with dread.
Bell swallowed hard. "I-I don't want to die... not here... not yet."
But heroes weren't born from safety.
He steadied his grip.
The creature lunged.
Bell barely rolled aside in time, stone erupting where the massive weapon struck. Shockwaves rippled
through the chamber, knocking him off balance. He hit the ground and gasped, air fleeing his lungs. His
vision blurred.
Get up, Bell... get up!
He scrambled to his feet just as the creature charged again, dragging its jagged chains behind it like
serpents of iron. Bell darted to the side, heart pounding, every instinct screaming.
"I can't fight this—I can't fight this!"
But he wasn't given a choice.
A chain whipped toward him. Bell raised his broken sword instinctively—metal collided with metal,
sparks flying. The impact sent pain shooting through his arm. The blade cracked further.
The creature towered above him, ready to strike again.
Bell staggered backward, desperation clawing at his chest. He needed distance. Time. Anything. He
dove behind a fallen slab of stone as the chain smashed down, splintering rock.
Dust filled the air.
Bell coughed, squeezing his eyes shut.
I'm going to die... I'm really going to die...
Then—
A faint glow pulsed beneath him.
Bell blinked, looking down. The stone floor shimmered with golden traces—thin lines forming a small
circular pattern beneath his feet. A glyph he hadn't noticed before.
It reacted to his fear.
It reacted to *him*.
The glow intensified, and for the briefest moment, warmth flooded Bell's body—comforting, soft,
familiar. A memory of Orario's light. Of hope itself.
The creature roared, furious at the awakening glow.
Bell rose to his feet. His broken sword vibrated faintly in his grip, the golden light dancing across its
cracked surface. For a moment, he didn't feel weak. He didn't feel alone.
He felt chosen.
The creature lunged once more, chains flailing.
Bell charged toward it.
Their collision shook the cavern. Bell struck with all his strength—far too little, far too desperate—but
the golden glyph's energy empowered the broken blade just enough. The sword sliced across the
creature's helm, sparks erupting.
The monster recoiled, staggering backward with a pained bellow.
Bell stumbled, breathing hard. Sweat ran down his forehead, his body trembling from adrenaline and
terror. But he was still alive.
He stared at the creature, which now hesitated—angered, but wary.
"It... worked?" Bell whispered. "I actually hurt it?"
A second roar shook the chamber—deeper, closer.
Bell's blood ran cold.
The sound didn't come from the monster.
It came from behind him.
He spun around just as a massive stone door slammed shut. The golden seam along the doorway
flared brightly, sealing itself. A new path opened ahead—descending deeper into the dark, lit by faint
blue flames.
The voice from before returned, echoing through the air like a forgotten memory:
"Rise... Tarnished."
Bell clutched his broken sword, chest rising and falling rapidly.
"I-I don't understand what I am... or why I'm here," he whispered. "But if this is where my path leads...
then I'll keep walking."
The creature growled behind him.
Bell took one last look—fear twisting inside him—but he turned toward the new passage. He couldn't
beat that monster. Not yet. But he could survive. And survival was enough.
He descended the stone steps, the chill air brushing against him like ghostly hands. Each step echoed,
growing heavier, until at last he reached the bottom of the path.
A vast chamber opened before him.
Mist drifted over shallow water. Ruined pillars loomed like gravestones. And in the center, lit by ghostly
light, stood a stone coffin bearing ancient runes.
Bell approached slowly, captivated yet cautious.
"What... is this place?"
He ran his fingers across the lid. The moment he touched it, a surge of vision crashed into him—an
image of a world shattered, a tree of gold burning, and a throne standing empty beneath the storm.
Bell staggered.
A whisper followed.
"Every Tarnished begins here."
Bell's breath trembled.
"I'm not a Tarnished... I'm just Bell. I just want a Familia... I just want to be a hero."
But the world didn't answer with comfort.
It answered with destiny.
A distant metallic clang echoed—another presence awakening.
Bell tightened his grip on his sword.
"I'll keep going," he whispered. "I have to."
Because the path of heroes had already begun—and Bell Cranel, lost between worlds, took his first
true step into the Lands Between.
End of Chapter 2.