Crimson rebirth: rise of the cursed eye

---

The clearing still burned.

Smoke hung in the air, thin and acrid. Trees groaned under shattered limbs, and runes carved into the bark had been charred black—useless, like everything else they had tried.

Seraphine Duskmoor stood silently beside Professor Vaelen, her violet cloak in tatters, wind catching the edges like torn silk. Around them, the other survivors of the ambush were still recovering—wounded, shocked, breathing.

Alive only because the creature had allowed it.

Vaelen wiped blood from his mouth, hunched over a sparking crystal slate. "Still nothing. Whatever that energy was… it doesn't match any known Core class or recorded mana anomaly."

Seraphine said nothing for a moment. Her gaze lingered on the direction the being had gone, vanishing into the black heart of the forest.

She finally spoke. "It didn't feel like mana. It wasn't corrupted, either."

Vaelen nodded. "No. That wasn't magic. That was something older. Something that shouldn't exist."

Seraphine glanced at her palm, the faint aftershock of the dark pulse still resonating in her veins. "The boy."

Vaelen looked up.

"The one we asked about in the village," she continued. "The nameless one the headman couldn't describe. The one who lived with Elenore."

Vaelen raised an eyebrow. "You think it was him?"

"He flinched when I said her name," Seraphine murmured. "Just slightly. Most wouldn't catch it."

Vaelen frowned. "And now... she's dead. Buried in the outcast's field. A day later, the forest screams."

"Coincidence?" she asked.

"No such thing," he said.

Seraphine narrowed her eyes, remembering the broken tombstone with the name Elenore carved by hand.

"I want to see it again," she said. "Before that thing finds us again."

---

The Wyrmveil Deepens. So Does Kael.

Kael walked in silence, deeper into a forest that felt more like a grave than a sanctuary.

He hadn't spoken in hours.

The pain in his chest was no longer just grief—it had twisted into something darker. The Onyx Armor sat dormant in his inventory, and yet he still felt its weight, soul-deep. He hadn't drawn it since the last kill. Maybe he was afraid of what would happen if he did.

Elenore's necklace was warm against his skin.

I should've protected you, he thought.

But thinking that didn't bring her back.

He paused at a stream and leaned over. The water didn't reflect his face. Instead, it showed glowing eyes—his eyes, burning with the Ashen Sigil. His hand trembled, and the reflection warped.

"Ashuru?" he asked quietly.

Nothing.

But after a pause, the voice returned, faint and flat. "You've consumed more than just power, Kael."

Kael exhaled. "You mean the kills?"

"No. Your guilt. Your pain. Nexis feeds on it. It adapts to it."

Kael clenched his fists. "Then maybe I deserve it."

"No," Ashuru said. "You deserve truth. And it's coming."

---

Kael stepped into a glade hidden by rot and time. Pillars jutted from the earth like broken teeth, and at the center stood a cracked obelisk pulsing faintly with mana. The stone was ancient—older than mana, older than memory.

He approached.

> System Update Detected

Trial of Origin – Incomplete Synchronization

Initiating Soul-Form Combat Trial

Opponent: Mirrorborn Kael – Nexis Control State

Objective: Survive.

The air stilled.

Shadows bled from the cracks in the stone—and took shape.

Kael stepped back, eyes wide.

It was him.

But better.

The figure wore perfected Onyx Armor, glistening with echoing fragments. Its eyes—twins of Kael's—burned with focused rage. It like an extension of its body. No hesitation. No guilt.

"You are not me," Kael whispered.

The copy smiled with cruel familiarity. "I'm what you could've been—if you hadn't let her die."

Kael growled, drawing his own Fang.

The Mirrorborn vanished.

A blur of motion—and Kael staggered.

The Sword was gone.

He blinked.

The copy now held both blades—its own Fang and Kael's.

"You don't deserve this weapon," the Mirrorborn spat, turning the dagger in his hand. "You failed to protect its owner."

Kael backed away, heart pounding.

> System Notification

Weapon Disarmed. Combat Efficiency Severely Decreased.

"I'm not running," Kael said, summoning his inventory with a shaky breath. "I won't run."

He pulled out a smaller blade—the one he hadn't touched since that night.

Elenore's dagger.

Still clean. Still hers.

He gripped it tightly.

"Then come," the Mirrorborn growled, "and die like the fake you are."

---

The Mirrorborn struck first.

Kael barely managed to parry with the dagger—smaller, lighter, and never meant for direct combat. The copy's strikes were fluid, elegant, and devastatingly fast. Each motion was deliberate. Precise.

Every mistake Kael made was punished immediately.

"You don't even know the blade's balance," the copy sneered, slashing across Kael's arm. "She gave it to you. You didn't earn it."

Kael countered—but it was wild. Desperate.

"You're just grief. Wrapped in rage. That's not power. That's weakness."

He feinted right—Kael fell for it.

A heavy strike slammed into Kael's shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

"You wear her memory like armor," the Mirrorborn said, raising both blades. "But it's just another weight you'll never carry."

---

> Trial Modifier Activated

Restrictions Lifted – Partial Nexis Unleash Granted

Stage: Soul Resonance Initiated

Ashen Sigil – Stable

Kael coughed, blood staining the moss beneath him.

He should've stayed down.

But he didn't.

Not when the dagger in his grip still held her warmth.

Not when her voice whispered through the void of his heart.

"Get up, Kael."

His eyes flared, both irises glowing as the Ashen Sigil surged.

He rose—slower than before, but with purpose.

Elenore's dagger hummed faintly.

The fight wasn't over.

Not yet.