As the Voice spoke, a blinding light tore through my vision.
Then—nothing.
I floated in a vast black expanse, empty and endless, as the Voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Trial completed."
"Rank: Touched."
"Item Acquired: Hellhide — Inscribed Rank."
The darkness shifted.
The Hellhide manifested around me—not as armor in the way I expected, but as something closer to a garment. A black garb of layered hide, matte and scarred, worn thin at the edges as if it had endured far more than a single lifetime. It didn't gleam or reflect light. Shadows clung to its surface a heartbeat too long.
It wasn't heavy.
It didn't sit on me—it belonged.
The hide moved when I breathed. Not visibly, not enough for the eye to catch—only something felt, like a quiet tightening beneath the skin. Faint etchings traced the seams, uneven and organic, as though they hadn't been carved but grown. Some curved inward, folding upon themselves. Others ended abruptly, unfinished, like thoughts cut short.
The garb never creaked. Never shifted. It rested against me with unsettling familiarity, shaped by my weight rather than my form.
Those who stood near it would feel it before understanding it—a constant, subtle pressure, like being watched by something infinitely patient. Animals shied away. Flames burned lower. Sound itself seemed reluctant to linger.
I never spoke of it.
But in quiet moments, I found myself touching the black hide over my chest—not to check if it was still there, but as if listening for something beneath it. Something that listened back.
The Voice returned.
"Restriction applied: Self-termination prohibited."
I scoffed. What kind of restriction is that?
Then again… I'd made a promise. So I wouldn't be testing it.
Another presence stirred.
"Attribute granted: Divine Rank — Those Who Follow."
My breath caught. Divine? That was nearly impossible.
"Explanation requested," I said.
The Voice answered—not clearly.
"Do not forgive why you live."
"Lineage acknowledged: A fragment of Divinity lingers."
That was it. Not explicit. Not comforting. But it was Divine Rank—and that alone was terrifying.
I'd test it later.
For now, only one description lingered in my mind—the one the Voice had offered without explanation, ancient and unyielding:
"Some burdens choose their bearer."
Time lost its meaning in the dark.
I tried to count my breaths, but there was no rhythm to follow—no chest rising, no lungs to fill. Thought drifted instead, slow and untethered, circling the same questions until they blurred together. How long had I been here? Seconds? Hours? Lifetimes?
I reached out, half-expecting resistance. There was none. My hand—if I still had one—passed through the void without sensation, like touching a memory instead of matter. No warmth. No cold. Just absence.
The promise surfaced unbidden.
Kaid's voice. His smile. The way his eyes closed for the last time.
I held onto it tightly, afraid the memory would dissolve if I let go. The Voice had bound me to living, but it hadn't told me how to carry the weight of it. Survival wasn't freedom. It was obligation.
The Hellhide tightened almost imperceptibly, responding not to fear, but to understanding. Not comfort. Not reassurance.
Acknowledgment.
Whatever watched me here wasn't cruel. But it wasn't kind either. It waited—patient and certain. As though it already knew which path I'd walk—and was only curious how long it would take me to realize it.
The thought sent a chill through something deeper than flesh.
I exhaled slowly into the black.
"When are you going to give me a real answer?"
The darkness, as always, did not respond.