The first day of vacation carried a different scent.
Calmer.
Softer.
As if the world itself were holding its breath.
Soul woke before dawn, without an alarm, without urgency. The silence of the Drasil house was almost soothing. He sat up on his bed, picked up the book carefully placed on his nightstand, and gently ran his hand over its cover.
The Original Chronicles of Astryon
He opened it.
The Original Chronicles of AstryonChapter I — The Foundations of the World
Before time was counted,
before names existed,
before death itself was a promise,
Astryon was nothing.
There was neither sky nor earth.
Neither light nor darkness.
There was only an ocean of raw mana—unstable, chaotic, formless, and devoid of will. An infinite sea of primordial energy where any attempt at existence dissolved the instant it was born.
Mana was not a tool.
It was not a resource.
It was everything.
And that everything was incapable of enduring.
The Birth of the Foundations
From the depths of that chaos, the First Ones emerged.
They were neither created nor summoned.
They arose out of necessity.
The Chronicles do not agree on their number.
Some speak of seven.
Others of twelve.
Others still claim they were countless.
But all agree on one thing:
They were the first to impose form upon chaos.
Each of the First Ones embodied a Fundamental Principle:
Stability.
Flow.
Matter.
Essence.
Life.
Death.
Will.
By combining their powers, they condensed mana, bound it, and gave it structure.
Thus were born the Foundations of the World.
The Separation
The First Ones' very first act was the Separation.
They divided chaos into three strata:
The Earth, where mana would be slow, dense, and enduring.
The Sky, where mana would circulate freely.
The Depths, where mana would remain unstable, dangerous, and forbidden.
This separation allowed time to come into existence.
And with time… came change.
The Anchoring of Mana
But the world remained fragile.
Mana, still far too abundant, warped everything it touched. Forms would appear… then collapse.
The first creatures survived only a few instants before dissolving back into nothingness.
So the First Ones made a crucial decision.
They anchored mana within matter.
Every stone, every tree, every drop of water received a minute share of stabilized mana.
Thus was born physical reality as the races know it today.
Mana became the breath of the world,
but never again its master.
The Cycle
Then came the Cycle, the greatest law of Astryon.
Nothing was meant to be eternal.
The First Ones established:
Birth, as a promise.
Growth, as a duty.
Death, as a return.
Death was never conceived as a punishment.It was a recycling.
The mana of a being returned to the world, ready to nourish a new existence.
Thus, Astryon could endure.
Evolution
But a motionless world was a doomed world.
So the First Ones introduced a final law—the most controversial of all :
Evolution through Will.
Living beings would not be fixed.
They could become stronger, faster, more intelligent.
But this progression would never be free.
It would demand:
effort,
danger,
choices,
and sometimes… sacrifices.
Thus were born:
levels,
skills,
classes,
and affinities.
The Birth of the Races
When the world was finally stable, the First Ones shaped the First Races.
Humans, bearers of great adaptability.
Elves, close to natural mana.
Dwarves, bound to matter and the forge.
Beastmen, incarnations of instinct.
The Draconic Races, living fragments of primordial mana.
Each race was given strengths… and weaknesses.
None were perfect.
The Guardians and the Observers
The First Ones knew they could not remain forever.
So they created the Guardians, entities tasked with watching over balance.
And the Observers, charged with recording history.
But they laid down an absolute rule:
No Guardian must ever guide the evolution of mortals.
They observe.
They judge.
But they do not intervene.
This rule would later… be broken.
The Withdrawal of the First Ones
When everything was finally in place, the First Ones withdrew.
Some dissipated willingly.
Others sealed themselves within realms beyond time.
A few… vanished without leaving a trace.
But before they departed, they left one final legacy:
A world capable of judging itself.
And beings capable of defying their own destiny.
The Final Line
The chapter ends with a sentence engraved in ancient script, darker than the rest of the text:
When the laws are put to the test,
when evolution surpasses intention,
then Astryon will call those who walk between life and death.
Soul slowly closed the book.
His heart was beating faster.
He lifted his gaze toward the window. The sun was already higher in the sky.
"…I'll read the rest later," he murmured.
His stomach growled.
He marked the page, carefully closed The Original Chronicles of Astryon, and left his room to go have breakfast.
But one thing was certain:
The world he walked upon had never been designed to remain peaceful.
This world… felt far too much like a game.
He read on anyway, up to the beginning of Chapter II, before his stomach growled softly again. With regret, he closed the book.
Morning at the Drasil Household
After washing up, Soul went downstairs to the living room.
"Good morning!"
Lynea looked up, surprised, then smiled immediately.
Aegis, already seated, raised an amused eyebrow.
Soul told them everything he had read: the creation of the world, the founding gods, the logic of progression woven into Astryon itself. Aegis listened carefully, clearly impressed.
"You understand quickly," he said at last.
"Very quickly."
Then, after a brief silence:
"Tomorrow… we'll train together."
Soul froze for half a second.
"REALLY?!"
He nearly jumped out of his chair.
They finished breakfast in high spirits. As soon as they were done, Soul grabbed his two artifacts—Kage no Kizuna and Shinigami's Embrace—and turned toward his mother.
"I'm ready!"
Lynea blinked… then burst out laughing.
"So you do remember, after all."
She hugged him tenderly, then went upstairs to get ready. A few minutes later, she came back down, equipped for the forest.
Destination: West Forest
They left the village along the red-earth path, still damp with morning dew. As they moved beneath the canopy of trees, the air changed—cooler, heavier. Mana flowed freely there, vibrating through every leaf and every root.
"Where exactly are we going?" Soul asked, adjusting the straps of his weapons.
Lynea smiled without slowing her pace.
"To the West Forest. It's a rich area… but a temperamental one."
"You can find Yumina shoots there, and Energy roots."
She crouched beside a moss-covered trunk and gently parted the ferns.
"Yumina shoots are young and fragile. Their leaves have that pearly blue-green tint. When infused, they restore mana and speed up its regeneration."
"As for Energy roots, they grow deeper. Golden, thick. Perfect for treating minor wounds… sometimes even more, if you know how to prepare them."
Soul watched carefully, memorizing every detail. He could feel that this outing was more than a simple gathering trip.
Suddenly, birds took flight farther ahead.
A sharp crack echoed from the treetops.
The forest had just reminded them of one essential truth:
here, nature gives—but it also demands.
Hostile Presences
They had already gathered several roots when Soul froze.
He stopped dead in his tracks.His breath caught in his throat.
"Mom… don't move."
Lynea sensed the change instantly. The silence had thickened, as if the forest itself were holding its breath. Even the insects had stopped buzzing.
Soul briefly closed his eyes and focused.
There were movements.
Not chaotic.
Coordinated.
"Up there…" he whispered.
In the branches, almost invisible among the leaves, several silhouettes lay perfectly still. Small, wiry bodies, striped tails, strips of cloth wrapped around their wrists and ankles.
Kung-fu Raccoons.
Their sharp eyes tracked every one of their movements. Some had already taken martial stances, ready to spring.
Farther ahead, on the ground, another threat was emerging.
Voracious Capuchins rummaged through the clearing, their fangs gleaming, their eyes flooded with unstable mana. They growled at one another, striking tree trunks, as if waiting for an excuse to charge.
Lynea went pale.
"Since when… have there been creatures like this here?"
"Not for long," Soul replied in a low voice."Or else… no one came back to talk about it."
He observed for a few more seconds, judging distances, angles, the terrain.
"The raccoons aren't aggressive by nature.But they attack anyone who gets close to their tree."
"The capuchins, on the other hand… attack anything that moves."
He inhaled slowly.
The West Forest was no longer a simple gathering ground.
It had become a potential battlefield.
Around the Summons
Soul wasted no time.
— Summon: Feline LV1.
The air barely trembled. Mystique appeared silently at his side, already on the hunt, his supple body melting into the shadows of the trees. His golden eyes swept through the canopy, identifying the Voracious Capuchins without a sound.
Then Soul drew a deeper breath.
He repeated exactly the same process as with his other summons—but this time, the mana he channeled was heavier, denser, almost crushing.
— Summon: Ursidae LV1.
The ground shook.
A massive summoning circle opened, its runes pulsing slowly, like the beating of a powerful heart. An enormous silhouette forced its way out, pushing the air itself back.
A Berserk Panda emerged.
It bore nothing of the peaceful herbivore from old tales. Its body was massive, covered in black-and-white fur darker than usual, crisscrossed with scars. Its musculature was dense and compact, forged by a now carnivorous diet rich in magical nutrients. Thick jaws revealed powerful fangs, and each step drove slightly into the ground.
This panda was no longer a bamboo eater.
It was a hunter.
It slowly turned its head toward Soul, stared at him for a few seconds… then slammed its forepaw into the ground in a heavy, almost solemn gesture.
— Tank,Soul declared without hesitation.
The Berserk Panda let out a deep, approving rumble.
At once, a violet window opened before Soul's eyes.
[Bound Summon — Tank]
Race: Berserk Panda
Level: Linked to the Summoner
Role: Tank / Line Breaker
HP: Very High
MP: Low
STR: Very High
END: Exceptional
AGI: Low
Abilities:
• Crushing Charge LV1 — Frontal breakthrough, massive damage
• Shattered Bamboo Fist LV1 — Heavy blow capable of breaking armor and bones
• Reinforced Hide LV1 — Reduces damage taken
Passive Trait:
• Carnivorous Instinct — The more dangerous the enemy, the more resistant Tank becomes.
A final window confirmed the action.
[Skills — Uses]
Invocation: Ursid LV1
Uses: 1 / 10
Invocation: Feline LV1
Uses: 2 / 10
The Plan
Soul studied the terrain one last time.
The Voracious Capuchins were numerous, loud, unpredictable.
The Kung-fu Raccoons, on the other hand, were organized, fast, and would strike as a group at the slightest mistake.
He inhaled slowly.
— We split them.
His voice was calm, unraised.
— Mystique, you take the Capuchins.
— Fast. Silent. No prolonged fight.
The cheetah flicked her tail lightly, already in motion.
— Tank, you keep the Raccoons busy.
— Absorb the hits. Don't let them flank us.
The Berserk Panda slammed the ground heavily, ready.
Lynea watched her son.
No panic.
No reckless charge.
Only analysis, composure… and a clear plan.
He doesn't rush in headfirst anymore, she realized with emotion.
He thinks before he acts.
Mystique slipped between the tree trunks, her movements so fluid she seemed to melt into the forest itself. In seconds, she had circled behind the Voracious Capuchins, muscles coiled tight, gaze locked.
Tank didn't move. He stared straight at the Kung-fu Raccoons—massive, immobile—like a mountain on the verge of collapse.
Soul slowly raised his hand.
One second passed.
Then he brought it down.
That was the signal.
Mystique leapt.
Tank charged.
The clearing erupted into motion.
Combat — Mystique vs. the Voracious Capuchins
The first Voracious Capuchin didn't even realize he was already dead.
A breath.
A displacement of air.
Then silence.
Mystique appeared behind him, her claws already withdrawn from the creature's shattered neck before the body even collapsed. The cheetah did not stop. She did not slow down. She chained her movements seamlessly.
There were thirty Voracious Capuchins.
Thirty nervous, agile bodies, capable of leaping from tree to tree, biting, slashing, surrounding prey in seconds. They were not stupid. They hunted in packs, screamed to coordinate, attacked in successive waves.
But today, they were the prey.
A shrill scream tore through the clearing.
— KIIIEEE!
The Capuchins all turned at the same time.
Too late.
Mystique burst from the heights, bounding from branch to branch at an unreal speed. Her body seemed to fragment in the air, leaving afterimages behind. Every foothold was precise. Every impulse calculated.
She struck the second Capuchin square in the chest.
Her claws pierced the ribcage, shattering bone and heart in a fraction of a second. Using the still-warm body as a stepping stone, Mystique pivoted and slit the third one's throat before she even landed.
Blood splattered across the leaves.
The Capuchins screamed.
— KRAAA!
— KIEE!
— KRAKRAK!
They attacked all at once.
Five leapt from the right.
Four from the left.
Three dropped straight down from the trees.
Mystique let herself fall.
At the very last moment.
The Capuchins crashed into one another, claws tearing through empty air. Mystique slipped beneath them, skimming the ground, then burst upward again.
Lightning Dash.
Her body became an arrow.
She tore straight through the group.
When she finally stopped, five bodies collapsed behind her, cleanly severed at the waist. The Capuchins didn't even have time to feel pain.
Twenty-two remained.
They changed tactics.
No more useless screams.
No more disordered charges.
They surrounded Mystique.
Slowly.
Some climbed the trunks. Others melted into the bushes. Tails lashed the air. Mana-filled eyes tracked every movement of the cheetah.
Mystique stood still.
Her breathing was slow.
Her heart calm.
She almost closed her eyes.
Predator Vision.
In her mind, trajectories appeared.
Weak points.
Timing.
The first Capuchin attacked from behind.
Mystique pivoted without looking.
A claw swept up in a perfect arc.
The head rolled across the ground.
The second came head-on, fangs bared. Mystique slipped under the attack, reappeared at the creature's flank, and drove her claws into its abdomen before ripping upward.
The third attempted a diving strike from a tree.
Mystique leapt into the air, met the enemy halfway, slammed into it with her full weight, and crushed it against a trunk with a dull crack.
Skull shattered.
The Capuchins panicked.
They were fast.
But not fast enough.
Mystique began to circle them.
Faster and faster.
She no longer struck at every pass. She forced them to move, to break formation, to collide with one another. And then, when an opening appeared—
— Severed.
A neck.
A tendon.
A heart.
Bodies piled up.
The ground became slick.
Fifteen remained.
One Capuchin tried to bite a rear leg.
Mystique let it.
Then she twisted violently.
The creature's jaws snapped shut on empty air, and Mystique tore out its throat in a single bite.
The last ones tried to flee.
Mistake.
Mystique accelerated again.
One.
Two.
Three.
She caught them one by one, cutting them down without cruelty, without anger—only efficiency.
The final Voracious Capuchin froze, trembling.
Mystique stopped in front of it.
Looked at it.
Then struck.
Silence.
Thirty bodies lay scattered across the clearing.
Mystique straightened slowly, her coat stained with blood, her gaze calm and intact. She gave a light shake of her head, sending red droplets flying, then turned her eyes toward Soul.
As if to say:
Mission accomplished.
At that moment, a violet window opened before Soul's eyes.
[SYSTEM WINDOW]
Level: 7
XP: 300 / 700
Soul felt a shiver run down his spine.
Mystique hadn't just won.
He had dominated.
And the Forest of the West had just learned a simple truth:
It wasn't the forest that hunted Mystique.
It was Mystique who had allowed it to live—until now.
Combat — Tank vs the Kung-fu Raccoons
Tank didn't move at first.
He stood there, massive and immobile, his paws deeply planted in the clearing's soil. In front of him, the twenty Kung-fu Raccoons were already spreading out—fast, disciplined—forming a perfect semicircle.
They weren't like the Capuchins.
They observed.
Their small, wiry bodies adopted precise martial stances. Some lightly struck their fists together; others circled Tank, searching for an angle, an opening.
Lynea held her breath.
Tank inhaled.
Then he took a single step forward.
The ground vibrated.
That movement alone was enough to trigger the assault.
— KRAA!
Three Raccoons leapt at once, their paws slicing through the air in a flurry of rapid strikes aimed at Tank's flanks and back. Two more vaulted overhead, targeting his neck.
Tank absorbed it.
The blows cracked against his thick fur, his muscles swallowing the impact like living armor. He didn't retreat.
Slowly, he raised his forepaw.
— Crushing Charge.
Tank slammed the ground.
A circular shockwave rippled outward, hurling five Raccoons back like dead leaves. Two smashed into tree trunks and went unconscious. A third didn't get back up.
The others didn't hesitate.
They attacked as a group.
Some spun into rotational strikes, others targeted joints, while a few tried to climb onto his back to blind him. Tank growled, his eyes igniting with a dark red glow.
He moved.
Each step was an earthquake.
One Raccoon attempted a flying kick.
Tank caught him midair.
His claws closed around the small body.
He hurled it violently into the ground.
The sound was sharp. Final.
Two more attacked his legs simultaneously.
Tank bent slightly… then struck.
— Shattered Bamboo Fist.
His massive fist came down in a wide arc.
Three Raccoons were swept away in a single blow, bones cracking under the impact. One tried to rise before collapsing, lifeless.
Fourteen remained.
They changed tactics.
They abandoned frontal assaults and began striking in short, rapid waves, targeting the same spots again and again. Tank endured, but marks started to appear in his fur.
He growled louder.
— Reinforced Hide.
His muscles tightened, his skin becoming denser, almost rigid. The blows now slid off him with far less effect.
Tank advanced.
He grabbed one Raccoon by the head.
Another by the arm.
He smashed them into each other.
Two bodies fell.
For the first time, the Raccoons hesitated.
That hesitation was fatal.
Tank charged.
He tore through their formation like a living battering ram, flinging bodies aside, crushing those who couldn't escape in time. The ground was littered with blood and torn leaves.
Eight remained.
The most experienced.
They attacked together, perfectly synchronized, striking at the same instant, trying to bring the giant down.
Tank staggered.
Lynea raised a hand to her mouth.
Then Tank roared.
A deep, animal, visceral roar.
He slammed both fists into the ground.
— Carnivorous Instinct.
His presence changed.
Heavier.
More violent.
He seized the first Raccoon and pinned it against a tree, shattering the bark. The second struck from behind—Tank pivoted and crushed its ribcage with an elbow.
Five remained.
They tried to retreat.
Too late.
A golden blur suddenly cut across the clearing.
Mystique.
She burst in from the flank, lightning-fast, cutting down the fleeing enemies without slowing. Two fell before they even understood what was happening.
The last three regrouped, cornered.
Tank advanced slowly.
Mystique took position at his right.
The final clash was brief.
A paw strike.
A bite.
One last crushing blow.
Silence.
Twenty Kung-fu Raccoons lay on the ground.
Tank stood motionless for a few seconds, breathing heavily. Then he straightened, towering over the clearing—marked, battered, but still standing.
Mystique licked her paw, indifferent.
Soul then felt a familiar vibration.
A violet window opened before his eyes.
[SYSTEM WINDOW]
Level: 7
XP: 500 / 700
Tank struck the ground one last time, as if to seal his victory.
Lynea took a deep breath.
She had just understood something.
These summons…
were not tools.
They were war allies.
And her son now knew how to command them.
Harvest and Return
Silence slowly settled back over the clearing.
Lynea looked at the lifeless bodies, the scarred trees, the churned earth… then turned her gaze to her son. She saw neither arrogance nor unhealthy excitement—only breathing that was still a little fast, and a focused, steady look.
— You handled that well, she said at last.
— Very well.
Soul nodded, then raised his hand.
— Return.
Mystique stretched one last time before dissolving into a discreet glow. Tank gently struck the ground with his paw, almost like a salute, then vanished in turn.
The tension faded.
Soul then summoned Osso, followed by Grom. The goblin skeleton appeared with a light clatter of bones, already holding a surprisingly disciplined posture.
— Mom, this is Grom, Soul explained.— He's a goblin skeleton… but he's reliable.
Lynea observed Grom for a few seconds, attentive. The revenant inclined his head slightly, almost respectfully.
— As long as he obeys you and doesn't scare the neighbors, she replied with a cautious smile.
Osso and Grom immediately got to work.
One carefully dug up the Energy Roots, the other harvested the Yumina shoots with almost meticulous precision. Soul and Lynea helped them, moving methodically through the area.
Time passed without them noticing.
When they were finished, nearly a hundred Yumina shoots and just as many Energy Roots lay neatly packed.
As they left the clearing, a familiar vibration crossed Soul's vision.
A violet window opened silently.
[Necromancy: Skeleton LV2]
Uses: 2 / 20
[Necromancy: Skeleton LV2]
Uses: 3 / 20
Soul smiled faintly.
Even without fighting,he was still moving forward.
Then, carrying their harvest, Soul, Lynea, Osso, and Grom calmly made their way back toward the village, leaving behind a clearing that had fallen silent once more…but was deeply marked by their passage.
Family Evening
The door of the Drasil house opened with a soft creak.The smell hit them immediately.
Something warm, rich, comforting. A blend of grilled meat, herbs, and bread fresh from the oven.
— Dad cooked… Soul murmured, surprised.
Aegis stood near the hearth, sleeves rolled up, busy stirring a thick stew in a large pot. When he turned around, his gaze stopped at once on Grom.
The goblin skeleton had entered behind Soul, calmly carrying a basket of roots.
Aegis didn't flinch.
He didn't shout.
He observed.
His eyes moved over the bleached bones, the upright posture, the disciplined behavior.
— …A revenant, he said simply.
Soul nodded.
— Yes. A goblin skeleton. His name is Grom.
Grom inclined his head slightly, as if greeting him.
Aegis remained silent for a moment, then nodded in return.
— As long as he's under your control… and he respects this house.
— He does, Soul said without hesitation.
— Then he's welcome.
That single sentence instantly eased the atmosphere.
Lynea set the baskets on the table and rolled up her sleeves.
— Before we eat, she said, we're going to do something important.
She took out several bowls, a mortar, a pestle, and carefully arranged glass vials.
— You wanted to learn, didn't you?
Soul nodded, eyes shining.
Home Alchemy Workshop
Lynea began slowly, taking care to explain every movement.
— First, the mana potion.
She took out the Yumina shoots.
— They must be lightly dried, never completely. If they become brittle, the mana disperses.
She placed a few into the mortar.
— Grind gently. No force. Mana is sensitive to emotions.
Soul copied her movements, fully focused.
— Next, distilled water. Always lukewarm. Never boiling.
She slowly poured the water into the mixture.
— Then we let it infuse. No catalyst is needed for a basic potion.
The liquid took on a soft blue-green hue, almost luminous.
— It restores mana gradually, she explained. Not instantly. And never in excess.
Then she moved on to the healing potion.
— Energy Roots are more temperamental.
She cut them carefully.
— Too finely, and you lose their effectiveness. Too coarsely, and the body won't absorb them.
She crushed them slowly.
— Add a drop of natural binder… honey or light resin.
Soul watched every detail, committing it to memory.
— And above all, Lynea added, looking him straight in the eyes,— a potion never replaces rest.
Soul nodded solemnly.
They prepared several vials together, lining them up carefully.
Grom watched the scene in silence, unmoving, almost… respectful.
The Meal
The table was set shortly afterward.The stew was still steaming. The bread was crisp. The vegetables were fresh.
The three of them sat down together.
Lynea spoke first, recounting the day—the forest, the battles.
— He thought before acting, she said.
— He gave clear orders.
— He protected without rushing in blindly.
Soul felt his cheeks warm.
Aegis listened in silence.Then he slowly placed his hand over his son's.
— You're making good progress, Soul.
— Not just in strength. In judgment.
Soul looked up, moved.
— Thank you…
They ate in a gentle atmosphere, punctuated by light laughter, shared memories, and plans for the days to come.
For the first time in a long while, the Drasil home felt complete.
End of the Evening
After the meal, Soul helped tidy up.
The fatigue was starting to settle in, but it was a good kind of tiredness—earned.
— Go get some rest, Lynea said with a smile.
— Tomorrow will be another day.
Soul nodded.
Before heading upstairs, he cast one last look at the table, at his parents, at this house.
He smiled.
No matter how much power he might gain.No matter the monsters he would face.
This was the place…he would always want to come back to.
Back to the Chronicles
The house was silent.Too silent.
Soul climbed the stairs one step at a time, still wrapped in the warmth of the family evening. His muscles were tired, his mind as well, yet something inside him refused to sleep. Not yet.
In his room, moonlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. On his desk, the two books his father had given him rested side by side.
Almost instinctively, Soul placed his hand on one of them.
The Original Chronicles of Astryon
He sat on his bed, his back against the wall, and opened the book to the exact place where he had stopped reading.
Chapter II — The Accounts
The pages were darker than those of the first chapter.Where the Foundations spoke of creation and balance, The Accounts spoke of conflicts, downfalls, and irreversible choices.
The first passage spoke of the Ancient Gods.
Not creators—but guardians.
Entities born after the world's foundation, tasked with watching over the evolution of the races. Some were benevolent. Others… terrifyingly strict.
When humanity received the gift of progression,some gods rejoiced.
Others saw it as heresy.
Soul frowned slightly.
He read on.
The Awakened Kings
The book then spoke of mortal kings who had transcended their condition.
Warriors who became legends.
Mages who reshaped entire continents.
Summoners capable of calling forth entire armies from other planes.
But none of these kings met a peaceful end.
For power always draws attention.And some forms of attention must never be awakened.
Soul felt a faint shiver run down his spine.
He turned the page.
The Cursed Places
Places where mana had been overused.
Battlefields frozen in time.
Entire cities vanished, swallowed by unfinished rituals.
One description caught his attention in particular.
The Ruins of Velkhar
A place where summons turned against their masters.
Since that day, the dead have walked there without rest.
Soul immediately thought of Grom.
Of Osso.
Of necromancy.
The connection felt… unsettling.
The Fallen Gods
Further on, the tone shifted once again.
It was no longer about heroic legends, but about downfall.
Gods who had overstepped their role.
Entities that had attempted to control evolution itself.
They were not destroyed.
They were sealed.
The book specified that their names had been deliberately erased from history.But sometimes, fragments remained.
Soul felt his heart start to beat a little faster.
The Silent Pact
An entire passage was devoted to a mysterious event.
A pact forged between the remaining gods and… something else.
To preserve the world,
certain truths were sealed away.
And only those capable of bearing the weight of memorywould one day be able to rediscover them.
Soul briefly closed the book.
The system.
The violet windows.
The answers deferred until level 10.
Everything seemed… connected.
He opened the book again.
The Forgotten Heroes
The chapter ended with a series of fragmented accounts.
Heroes without statues.
Names struck from the official chronicles.
Individuals who had saved the world… and then vanished.
Some were betrayed.
Others were sacrificed.
And a few… were reincarnated.
Soul's fingers tightened slightly on the page.
He turned to the next one.
Chapter III — [Illegible Title]
The letters seemed… blurred.As if the ink itself refused to be read.
Soul blinked.
For a moment, he had the strange sensation that the book was growing heavier in his hands. That the words were vibrating softly, as if they were waiting for something from him.
Then exhaustion caught up to him.
His mind was saturated.
His body no longer responded.
He gently closed The Origin Chronicles of Astryon and set it down on the table, beside the Nomicon Bestiarum Aeternum.
Soul lay back, pulling the blanket up to his chin.
In the darkness, one thought lingered.
This world is not just a game.And I… am not just a reincarnated child.
His eyelids slowly closed.
Far away, in forgotten ruins,something turned its head—
and smiled.