The Weight of Truth

Kaelen stood amidst the remnants of the corrupted beast, his blade still gleaming with divine energy. The putrid black mist that had once surrounded the creature was dissipating, revealing the lifeless husk beneath. Blood dripped from his fingertips, but his focus remained on the glowing crystal in his grasp—the second system fragment.

The moment he clenched his fist around it, a familiar pulse of energy surged through his body. His vision blurred, and a chilling sensation crawled up his spine.

[System: Second Fragment Integrated. System Evolution: 20%. New System Functionality Unlocking…]

A flood of images overwhelmed him, forcing him to his knees. Unlike the first fragment, which had given him a glimpse of Aeltharion's descent into madness, this one showed something different—something that made his stomach twist.

A grand temple stood before him, its golden spires piercing the sky. Inside, a radiant figure watched over the world with benevolent eyes. Aeltharion.

"I created this world for harmony, for balance. Yet, my children… why must you fight one another?"

Her voice was sorrowful, burdened with the weight of creation itself. She reached out, but war erupted before her eyes—kingdoms clashing, blood staining the earth. Her expression shifted, sorrow hardening into something else.

Then, darkness.

The golden temple cracked. The world trembled. The once-kind goddess stood alone, her presence twisted by despair.

"If they refuse peace… then I shall grant them silence."

Kaelen gasped as the vision shattered, his mind snapping back to reality. His breathing was ragged, his grip on the fragment tightening.

He was shaking.

"She was once… good."

Aeltharion had not always been the monster he needed to kill. She had loved this world. She had protected it.

Doubt clawed at his chest.

[System: Warning. Host’s mental state is unstable.]

He took a sharp breath, forcing the emotions aside. No. It didn’t matter. The Aeltharion of the past was gone. The creature that remained had brought ruin, and he had to end it.

Before he could fully regain his composure, the ground trembled beneath him. A thick, suffocating mist coiled around the trees, spreading unnaturally. A chill ran down his spine as shadowed figures emerged from the fog. Cloaked in black robes, their faces hidden, their presence exuded an aura of menace.

Kaelen’s grip on his sword tightened.

The Mist Cult.

One of them stepped forward, his voice smooth yet eerie. "You’ve seen the truth, haven’t you?"

Kaelen said nothing, his heart steady despite the turmoil in his mind.

The cultist chuckled. "Then tell me, warrior… can you still fight her?"

Kaelen didn’t waver.

"She was betrayed. She suffered," the cultist continued, stepping closer. "And now you march forward to finish what her betrayers started?"

Kaelen exhaled slowly. The doubt was still there, but it no longer paralyzed him.

The cultist raised a hand, and the mist surged, taking shape. Twisted figures with hollow eyes formed from the darkness, their corrupted essence seething. "Doubt is a weakness, boy. And weakness has no place in this world."

Kaelen’s blade ignited with divine energy, cutting through the creeping fog. His eyes locked onto the cultist, unwavering.

"I don’t need certainty to defeat you."

The mist howled as the battle began.

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