December 18, 2025 — Somewhere Between
There was no flash of light. No whirlwind of colors. One moment, Ryton's hand was clasping Liora's, the cold, cracked asphalt of Central Park South beneath his feet. The next, the world dissolved into a sensation of pressure—not on his body, but on his being.
It felt like being pushed through a membrane of thickened reality. The screams, the sirens, the smell of ozone and blood—all of it was snuffed out, replaced by a profound, echoing silence and the scent of damp stone and ancient leaves.
He stumbled as solid ground re-formed beneath him. Liora's grip kept him upright. They were no longer in New York.
They stood in a circular chamber of seamless, pearlescent stone. The room was about thirty feet across, domed ceiling arching high above, illuminated by a soft, sourceless glow. In the center, a pool of perfectly still water reflected the chamber's emptiness. There were no doors, no windows.
"A way-station," Liora said, releasing his hand. Her voice was hushed, respectful. "A neutral pocket between planes. Safe, for now." She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "How do you feel?"
Ryton took a steadying breath. His body felt… different. The explosive growth of reaching Level 5 was still settling. The new skills—Wargrave Eyes and Destruction Dao Body—sat in his consciousness like unfamiliar tools, their weight and heft not yet fully understood. He could feel them, though. A new layer of perception hovering at the edge of his vision, and a peculiar density to his flesh and bones, as if he were carved from something more substantial than meat and blood.
"Like I just skipped the queue for the world's weirdest amusement park," he said, flashing her a grin. The charm came effortlessly, a reflexive shield. "Where's the gift shop?"
[It's in your head, you delightful idiot. Focus.]
Right. The system. He'd almost forgotten in the sensory overload of planar travel. He closed his eyes, blocking out the alien chamber, and turned his attention inward.
The interface shimmered into being, clearer and more detailed than before. The blue text glowed with a subtle warmth.
---
[PRIMORDIAL SYSTEM INTERFACE]
User:Ryton Dragonheart
Level:5 (50/500 XP)
Tier:1 — Mortal
[Titles]
•Orphan of Ashes
•Giant-Slayer — +5% damage vs. giantkin
•Void-Breaker (New!) — +3% damage vs. extra-planar constructs
[Attributes]
Strength:16 | Agility: 14 | Vitality: 19
Intelligence:9 | Wisdom: 8 | Charisma: 22
[Combat Status]
HP:250/250 | MP: 120/120 | Stamina: 150/150
[BLOODLINE: Primordial Destruction]
Seal:99.8% (1st Seal Weakened)
Skill:Destruction Dao Body (Tier 1 - Active)
Channel Destruction energy to absorb and rebound kinetic damage. Efficiency: 15%. Rebound multiplier: x1.5. Duration: 10 seconds. Cooldown: 5 minutes.
[PHYSIQUE: Primordial War]
Seal:99.8% (1st Seal Weakened)
Skill:Wargrave Eyes (Tier 1 - Toggle)
Enhances perception, reveals mana flows, structural weaknesses, and combat intentions. Cost: 2 MP/sec.
[NEW FUNCTION UNLOCKED: SYSTEM SHOP]
---
His pulse quickened. Shop. He focused on it. The interface blurred and reconfigured, presenting a new, starkly simple menu.
[WELCOME TO THE PRIMORDIAL EXCHANGE]
[Currency: Destruction Points (DP)]
[Current Balance: 0 DP]
[Acquisition Method: Destroy meaningful targets, unravel significant structures, erase concepts of value. The more profound the destruction, the greater the yield.]
[AVAILABLE LISTINGS — TIER 1]
1. Nameless Iron Sword (Common)
A blade of unadorned, hungry metal. It yearns to break things.
Cost:50 DP
Effect:+10 Attack Power, +5% Armor Penetration.
2. Pendant of the Unblinking Watcher (Uncommon)
A dark stone that drinks light. It watches for you.
Cost:200 DP
Effect:Wargrave Eyes duration +30%, reveals hidden hostile intentions.
3. Manual: Folded Space Step (Rare)
A memory-crystal containing the basic principle of spatial compression.
Cost:500 DP
Effect:Unlocks movement skill 'Folded Step' (Tier 1).
4. Essence of a Fallen Star (Epic)
A shard of cosmic negation. It hums with endings.
Cost:2,000 DP
Effect:Permanently strengthens Primordial Destruction Bloodline. May unlock unknown traits.
5. ??? (Mythical)
The price is not listed. The cost is not in DP.
Requirement:Break a Seal of your Bloodline or Physique.
Effect:Unknown.
---
Ryton's breath caught. The items ranged from simple to staggering. But the currency… Destroy meaningful targets. It wasn't about killing mindlessly. It was about… value. Significance. The system wanted him to be an agent of profound unraveling.
[Philosophical, isn't it? You don't get points for stomping ants. You get points for toppling kingdoms, erasing masterpieces, ending epochs. Fun, right?]
"Charming," he muttered under his breath.
"What?" Liora asked. She had moved to the edge of the pool and was kneeling, her fingers skimming the water's surface. It didn't ripple.
"Just talking to my invisible, sarcastic friend," Ryton said, opening his eyes and walking over to join her. "So. What now? Do we wait here until the heat dies down?"
She looked up at him, her emerald eyes serious. "The 'heat,' as you put it, will not die down. You are a Dual Primordial. Your awakening was a seismic event. The higher planes are in turmoil. Factions are moving. Some will want to recruit you. Most will want to dissect you to understand how you circumvented the Cosmic Laws that forbid dual Primordial legacies."
"And you?" he asked, his tone light but his newly enhanced perception tuned to her. With a gentle mental push, he activated Wargrave Eyes.
The world shifted.
Liora was still Liora, but now she was overlaid with information. Her mana flowed in bright, river-like channels through her body, converging in a brilliant nexus at her core. He could see the faint stress fractures in the wood of her spear from blocking the Void-stalkers' blows. He could see the subtle tension in her shoulder muscles, the readiness to move. And he could see that curious golden thread again, thinner than a spider's silk, connecting something near her heart to the space directly in front of his own chest. A connection. Not control. Something else. Curiosity, perhaps. Or a bond formed in shared combat.
She didn't seem to notice his scrutiny. "My mandate was observation," she said. "To report on Earth's awakening. You… complicate my report. Considerably."
"Sorry to be an inconvenience," he said, letting the skill fade. The overlay vanished, leaving only the visual echo of that golden thread in his mind's eye. "So you're my tour guide? Showing me the ropes of the multiverse?"
"I am ensuring you don't accidentally tear a hole in reality before you understand what you are," she corrected, standing. "This way-station is temporary. We need to move to a more secure location. A place where you can learn without being immediately devoured."
"And where might that be?"
"There is a… sanctuary. Of sorts. For unique emergences. It's not affiliated with any major power. It's called The Crucible."
The name resonated with something in Ryton's bloodline. A faint, approving hum.
[The Crucible. A pretentious name for a pretentious place. It's where the multiverse's problem children get sent to either become assets or die quietly. You'll fit right in.]
"Sounds lovely," Ryton said dryly. "Lead the way."
Liora shook her head. "I can't. The path to The Crucible is individual. You must open the door yourself. It's a test of focus and will, keyed to your unique energy signature." She gestured to the pool. "The gate is in the water. Look into it. Really look. And will yourself to the place of testing."
Ryton eyed the perfectly still, mirror-like pool. It reflected the domed ceiling flawlessly. No hint of depth. "You want me to… think at the water."
"Primordials reshape reality with intent," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Your bloodline is Destruction. Your will is a chisel. Use it."
He sighed, the sound exaggerated. "Fine. But if I end up in a sewer dimension, I'm blaming you." He walked to the edge of the pool and knelt, mimicking her earlier posture.
He stared at his reflection. A young man with storm-gray eyes, a bruise forming on his forehead, wearing a torn, bloodstained delivery jacket. He looked like a street kid who'd lost a fight, not someone who could unravel worlds.
Focus.
He pushed aside the snark, the charm, the survivalist's constant calculation. He reached for the calm he entered in combat, but this was different. He wasn't analyzing a threat. He was trying to touch the thing inside him. The slumbering, sealed power that had dissolved a void-blade and unmade a hive-mind core.
He thought of the name. The Crucible. A place of testing. A forge.
He didn't just want to go there. He willed it.
His reflection in the water wavered. Not from ripples, but from a heat haze emanating from him. The air grew charged. The scar on his brow burned, not with pain, but with activation.
In his reflection's eyes, a speck of impossible black appeared. A dot of pure annihilation. It spread, consuming the gray of his irises, then the whites, until his reflected face was just a silhouette with twin pools of starless night where eyes should be.
The water beneath the reflection… ceased being water. It became a window. Through it, Ryton saw not the chamber's ceiling, but a vast, impossible landscape: floating islands of jagged rock under a sky torn between a bleeding sun and a shattered moon. He heard the distant clang of metal on metal, the roar of beasts, and a deep, rhythmic pounding like the heartbeat of a titan.
The way was open.
He glanced back at Liora. She was watching, her expression a mix of awe and apprehension.
"See you on the other side?" he asked.
"If you survive the entrance," she replied. "The Crucible doesn't accept passengers. Only those who can walk in under their own power."
Ryton nodded. He didn't hesitate. He placed his hands on the edge of the pool and leaned forward, not to dive, but to fall into the reflection.
There was no splash. There was only a sensation of falling through layers of cold glass and hot smoke.
---
The Crucible — Entrance Corridor
He landed on his feet on a narrow stone walkway, his boots echoing in a sudden, oppressive silence. The portal—a vertical sheet of shimmering, mercury-like liquid—sealed shut behind him with a final snick.
He was in a corridor. It was hewn from dark, volcanic rock, glowing runes etched along the walls providing a hellish crimson illumination. The air was hot, dry, and thick with the smell of sulfur, ozone, and blood. The sounds he'd heard through the portal were gone, replaced by a silence so complete it felt like a physical weight.
[Welcome to the neighborhood. Try not to make too much of a mess on your first day.]
Before he could even take a step, the runes on the wall directly in front of him flared. The stone melted, reshaping itself into a smooth, obsidian surface. Words formed, not in English, but in a script of angular, aggressive lines that he somehow understood perfectly.
INITIATE: RYTON DRAGONHEART.
BLOODLINE: PRIMORDIAL DESTRUCTION.
PHYSIQUE: PRIMORDIAL WAR.
ANOMALY DETECTED: DUAL PRIMORDIAL LEGACY.
ENTRANCE TRIAL: COMMENCING.
The obsidian surface dissolved again, revealing not more corridor, but a chamber.
It was a perfect cube, fifty feet to a side. The walls, floor, and ceiling were the same featureless, polished black stone. In the exact center stood a single figure.
It was humanoid, roughly seven feet tall, and appeared to be carved from the same black stone as the room. It had no face, no features, only a smooth, blank oval for a head. In its hands, it held a simple, unadorned greatsword of dark metal.
It stood utterly still. No mana radiated from it. No life force. It was a golem. A test.
[Sentinel Golem. Tier 1, Level 10. Standard entrance trial for Combat-class awakenings. Objective: Disable or destroy it. Failure: You die. Simple.]
Ryton felt the familiar combat calm settle over him. This was a language he understood.
He stepped into the chamber. The moment he crossed the threshold, the golem's head snapped toward him. It moved with shocking, silent speed, crossing half the distance in a single, ground-eating stride, its greatsword already sweeping up in a horizontal cut aimed to bisect him at the waist.
Ryton didn't activate his new skills. Not yet. He wanted to gauge the baseline.
He dropped low, the blade whistling over his head. He came up inside its guard and drove a fist reinforced by his enhanced Strength into its midsection.
THUD.
The sound was like hitting a mountain. Pain jolted up his arm. The golem didn't stagger. It didn't even flinch. Its blank head looked down at him, and its free hand shot out, fingers splayed like stone daggers, aiming for his throat.
Ryton flowed backward, his Agility allowing him to just barely evade the grasp. The golem pressed forward, its sword-work efficient, brutal, and devoid of any flourish. It was pure, applied force.
He dodged, weaved, and struck twice more. His blows chipped tiny flakes from the stone, but did no meaningful damage. Its defense was immense. Its attacks were slow but carried devastating weight. A single clean hit would shatter bones, even with his enhanced Vitality.
Standard trial, the system had said. This was the baseline expectation for someone who belonged here.
Time to stop holding back.
He focused, and with a thought, activated Wargrave Eyes.
The world snapped into hyper-clarity. The golem was no longer a stone statue. It was a latticework of glowing lines—stress points, mana conduits (faint and deep within), junctions. A network of potential fractures. His eyes traced the flow, finding a cluster of intersecting lines in the center of its chest, behind where a heart would be. A core.
The golem lunged again, a powerful overhead chop. This time, Ryton didn't dodge fully. He sidestepped just enough, letting the tip of the blade graze his arm.
Pain. But with it, a surge of instinct. He triggered Destruction Dao Body.
A wave of dark, humming energy flushed through his body, concentrating in his skin where the blade had touched. The kinetic impact of the blow—the force that should have broken his arm—was absorbed. He felt it sizzle and churn within him, a contained storm of violence.
The golem, following its programming, recovered and thrust its sword straight at his chest.
Ryton didn't block. He didn't dodge.
He stepped into the thrust.
The stone blade point hit him dead center, right over his heart.
Destruction Dao Body activated at full capacity.
There was a sound like a gong being struck underwater. The blade stopped, as if it had hit a wall of solidified shadow. The force of the thrust—every newton of it—was swallowed by Ryton's body.
For a single, suspended second, the golem's featureless face seemed to register confusion.
Then, Ryton released.
The absorbed energy, amplified by the bloodline's rebound multiplier, erupted outward from the point of impact.
BOOOOM.
It wasn't an explosion of light and fire. It was an explosion of force. A visible shockwave of distorted air, tinged with crackling black energy, blasted out from Ryton's chest.
It hit the golem's sword first. The dark metal didn't bend. It disintegrated into a cloud of metallic dust.
The shockwave traveled up the golem's arm. The stone arm shattered at the elbow, then the shoulder, dissolving into gravel.
The concussive force slammed into the golem's torso, directly over the core weakness his Wargrave Eyes had revealed.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.
A spiderweb of fractures erupted across the golem's chest. From the epicenter, a deep, grinding split appeared. The golem froze, its remaining arm dropping to its side. The light in the runic lines along its body flickered and died.
It stood for a moment longer, a cracked statue. Then it collapsed into a pile of inert stone and dust.
Silence returned, deeper than before.
Ryton let out a long, shaky breath. The skills deactivated. Using them together had drained a significant chunk of his MP and left him feeling strangely hollow, as if he'd expelled a part of himself.
[Entrance Trial: PASSED.]
[Reward: 100 XP. Access to The Crucible granted.]
[Additional Reward (Anomaly Bonus): 50 Destruction Points.]
The wall at the far end of the chamber irised open, revealing a massive, cavernous space beyond, filled with distant noise and turbulent energy.
Ryton looked at the pile of rubble that was the Sentinel Golem, then at the faint notification for his first-ever Destruction Points.
He smiled, that goofy, charming, utterly inappropriate smile.
"Well," he said to the empty chamber. "I guess I'm in."
He stepped through the archway, leaving the silent trial behind, and walked into the roaring chaos of The Crucible.