Kael's breath came slow and steady as he surveyed the pillar before him. It stood as it had before—unyielding, ancient—but now, at the point where his fist had struck, a delicate network of cracks spiraled outward like black veins against the stone's pale surface. His fingers flexed, knuckles still humming with the residual energy of the blow. He had done that. The realization sent a thrill through him. This was no ordinary material—it was something forged in an era long forgotten, something meant to endure. And yet, he had marked it.
The oppressive aura that had once radiated from the pillar was gone now, leaving behind nothing but cold, inert stone. Whatever power had been coiled within it had either faded… or been absorbed.
Kael exhaled sharply, turning his attention inward. Eva.
"A relic of an age long gone," she had called it. Vague. Unhelpful. But the way her form had flickered—like a candle fighting against the wind—told him more than her words ever could. She was hiding something.
His jaw tightened.
The dream.
That strange, suffocating vision of a battlefield drenched in black flames, of a sky split by a dying sun, of a voice whispering in a language he shouldn't understand but somehow did. The energy there had felt exactly like the oblivion core's—like the pillar's. And Eva… Eva knew.
"I do not know, Kael."
A lie. A careful, calculated omission.
His fingers curled into fists. I can't trust her completely. The thought settled in his chest like a weight. But for now, he had other priorities.
The forest around him was quiet, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and old leaves. He had found a secluded spot beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient oak, its branches casting twisted shadows over the ground. Here, he could train without interruption.
"Teach me the skills," he demanded.
Eva's form shimmered into existence beside him, her expression unreadable. "I can only implant the basics. Mastery will depend on you."
Kael gave a sharp nod. That was fair. Mastery wasn't something that could be gifted—it was earned through sweat, repetition, and raw willpower. Skills had tiers: beginner, advanced, peak. A fireball at its lowest level was a spark. At its highest? A cataclysm.
He braced himself as Eva extended a translucent hand toward his forehead. A cold pulse shot through his skull, and then—
Information.
It flooded his mind like ink spilling into water—foreign, yet instantly familiar. Two skills etched themselves into his consciousness.
And deep within his soulscape, something shifted.
A thread of black light unspooled from the oblivion core, winding around his original resonance like a serpent. A connection formed, thin but undeniable, binding the two energies together.
Kael didn't notice. His focus was entirely on the knowledge now burning in his mind.
Shadow Veil. A concealment skill. Mana woven from oblivion would wrap around him like a second skin, bending light, muffling sound, making him little more than a ghost in the world's periphery.
Dark Hands. The same power he had used against the pillar—a coating of pure annihilation over his fists, turning every strike into something corrosive, something hungry.
He wasted no time.
Mana surged through his veins, pooling in his palms. A inky mist seeped from his fingertips, swirling around his hand like living smoke. The moment it made contact with the oak's bark, the wood rotted. Black veins spread in seconds, the tree groaning as if in pain. His mana plummeted—this wasn't just decay. It was erasure.
He yanked his hand back, watching as the corruption slowed, leaving behind a withered scar.
Next, Shadow Veil.
He exhaled, pulling the darkness around him like a cloak. The world blurred at the edges. His body grew lighter, insubstantial. For a heartbeat, he wasn't Kael anymore—he was a shadow among shadows, unseen, untouched.
Then it faded.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. The skills were his now. But mastery? That would take time.
And he had a feeling he'd need it sooner than later.