The Cost of Power

Kaelen’s fingers curled into a fist as the system’s ethereal text hovered before him, glowing faintly in the dim, corrupted forest. His body ached from his recent battle, the black mist still lingering in the air like the whispers of the dead. The system fragment he had just acquired pulsed in his palm, radiating a warmth that contrasted with the cold, tainted surroundings.

He had fought tooth and nail for this piece of power, and yet, as he gazed upon it, he felt no sense of triumph—only the weight of what was yet to come.

[System Notification: Second Fragment Acquired. Evolution Progress: 20%.]

The moment the notification appeared, a strange force invaded his mind. His vision blurred as flashes of memories—ones not his own—flooded his consciousness.

A city of gold and marble, towering spires that touched the heavens. People of all races walking together in harmony. The sky was clear, untainted. Laughter echoed. And in the center of it all stood a radiant figure—Aeltharion.

She was nothing like the nightmare Kaelen had always imagined. No twisted form, no maddened shrieks. Just a woman, draped in celestial robes, her silver hair flowing like a river of light. Her eyes, bright with wisdom and kindness, looked upon her world with warmth.

But then, the sky darkened.

Screams. Fires. Betrayal.

Kaelen gasped as the memory shattered like glass, his knees buckling under the weight of it. He pressed a hand against his forehead, breathing heavily.

[System: Power is not given; it is earned. Every battle shapes you, every hardship refines you.]

The system’s voice was neutral, yet beneath its usual calculated tone, something else stirred. Was it... emotion?

Kaelen shook his head, gripping the system fragment tighter. "No," he muttered. "She’s a monster. That’s all that matters."

The mist around him stirred. A low, guttural growl echoed through the dead trees.

Kaelen’s senses flared, and he whirled around, his sword raised just in time to see movement in the shadows. A creature—once human—crawled forward on all fours, its limbs unnaturally elongated. Its flesh was cracked and oozing black mist, its mouth stretched open into a silent scream.

The corrupted being lunged.

Kaelen reacted instantly. His blade flashed, intercepting the creature mid-air. But the moment his steel met its flesh, tendrils of darkness lashed out, twisting around the metal, trying to erode it.

[System: Adapt. Overcome. A weapon is only as strong as the one who wields it.]

Gritting his teeth, Kaelen pushed forward. His divine energy flared—a golden light clashing against the corruption’s abyssal tendrils. The creature shrieked, its form writhing violently as the light burned through its body.

Kaelen didn’t hesitate. He twisted his grip and drove his blade downward, severing the beast’s head in a single, decisive motion. The corpse twitched before dissolving into nothingness.

Silence settled once more.

He exhaled slowly, his grip on his sword tightening. The battle had been brief, but it left him drained—not just physically, but mentally.

Even now, doubt clawed at him. The memories shown by the system fragments were proof that Aeltharion had once been good. But did that even matter anymore? Could something so far gone ever be saved?

Then he spoke, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Fate didn’t give me a choice. But I’ll make damn sure I decide how this ends.”

As the black mist thinned, Kaelen straightened his posture and stepped forward. The path ahead remained uncertain, riddled with enemies, lies, and painful truths waiting to be uncovered.

But there was no turning back now.

The only way left was forward.

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