The Power Born from Deep Darkness
Cold winds swept over the rocky cliffs, thickening the night's darkness even more. In the sky, the pale moon glowed like blood, half-hidden behind drifting clouds.
And through that darkness walked Kraan.
He knew what he was searching for—yet had no idea where to find it.
Only one thing pulsed through his thoughts: revenge.
If he remained powerless, he would never be able to confront the source of all his suffering. If he did not grow strong, someone stronger would come and crush him.
Suddenly, a strange feeling crept into him, as if he were being watched from somewhere. As he walked along the shadowy mountainside, the ground beneath him split open. A gaping chasm yawned wide. The earth slipped from under his feet, and it felt as if he were being sucked into the cold, bottomless dark.
He was falling.
Into an endless abyss of shadows, his body trembling, cold sweat dripping down his spine. From all around him came the echo of ancient voices.
They whispered, they moaned, they wept...
It was unclear whether they were human or beast.
— "Who are you?"
The whispers asked him.
— "What do you seek?"
Strangely, their words pierced straight into his heart, as if they could see into the deepest thoughts he had tried to bury.
After what felt like eternity, Kraan landed—yet he felt no pain.
His body felt empty. Looking around, he found himself standing within the depths of the darkness.
There should have been nothing here, and yet…
Before him appeared the ruins of a massive, black cathedral, like the ghost of an ancient memory.
This place is not alive. It is a monument to suffering.
Its doors had collapsed, and its walls bore deep claw marks as if slashed by some great beast.
Inside, in the center of the cathedral, a long black sword stood embedded in the ground.
Its blade seemed soaked in human tears, sorrow, vengeance, and regret.
Ancient inscriptions were carved into the blade.
The sword felt… alive. It was calling to him.
As Kraan approached, the ground trembled.
From within the ruins, a shadowy smoke-like form emerged—
A horrifying, formless specter. Yet one thing was clear:
It was the spirit of a former wielder of this sword.
— "Do you desire this power?"
The voice was faint, but resounding with force.
Kraan closed his eyes and pondered for a moment.
Yes, he desired power. But…
Was he willing to pay the price?
— "I need power."
— "Then inherit me. But inherit my suffering as well."
The shadow drifted slowly toward him. Suddenly, it felt as if everything was dissolving into darkness.
Something heavy pressed into his soul, his mind, and his heart.
He felt pain—
Not the pain of flesh, but the piercing sorrow of thorns driven into the heart,
the chill of tears long unshed,
and the crippling despair of fear.
And yet… he did not retreat.
Kraan reached out his hand and grasped the Dark Moon Light.
At that moment, black smoke surged from the sword and engulfed his entire body.
When the smoke finally cleared—
He was no longer the same man.
The darkness had fused with his body and soul.
A cold mind, and a brutally merciless power,
like a newborn child, were born anew within him.
The new master of the Dark Moon Light had risen