Night's hands trembled as he carved through the rotting flesh. The blade in his grip felt heavier than ever, his muscles tight from fatigue. The stench made his throat tighten, bile rising, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. He had to find it.
His breath shuddered as his blade scraped against something hard.
He reached in.
There it was—the stone.
But this one pulsed.
Bigger. Darker. Alive.
He glanced at the first stone tucked inside his belt, then brought it close.
A spark.
A pull.
And then—click.
The stones fused. Smooth. Whole. The cracks vanished, but not the strange hum within. A beat like a silent heart echoed from the surface.
His thoughts slowed. Then the Hex spoke:
> [You have received a Chronicle.]
Night's breath hitched. Another one? He barely understood the first. And now—
He lifted his hand. The runes responded.
They flickered into life, wrapping around his vision.
---
Chronicles:
[Shadow Key], [Forgotten King's Blade], [Shattered Heart]
[Shattered Heart]: 3/8
---
No abilities. No descriptions. Just numbers.
His fingers tightened, then loosened again. "At least it's something…" he muttered.
He slid the stone into his chronicle space, watching it vanish. One less weight to carry. One less thing to worry about—for now.
---
Days bled together.
The next spawn was stronger.
Then the next—stronger still.
Each fight pushed him past the edge of exhaustion, his body refusing to heal fast enough. Wounds reopened. Fingers bled. Bones ached.
And yet—he kept moving.
He didn't complain. He didn't cry.
He survived.
Because he had to.
Each fight brought him closer to the truth, to the island's secrets—and to that feeling again. That sense of something missing.
Seven pieces. He had found seven.
Each one darker than the last, the weight almost unbearable now. When they got too close, they buzzed in his pouch, vibrating with hunger, like they were calling out.
But the final one—the eighth—was still out there.
Then he saw it.
The spawn didn't lunge.
It waited.
In the dark.
Its eyes glowed.
Sword in hand—cracked, but humming with power.
Night froze.
He didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
The thing didn't see him as prey. It saw him as something else.
An opponent.
---
Then it moved.
Fast.
The sword split the air like lightning, and Night leapt—
Too slow.
BOOM.
The impact shattered trees, carved through the forest like an axe through snow. Night hit the dirt, rolled, coughing as dust choked the air.
He looked up, eyes wide.
The crater left behind was massive.
No way... His thoughts slowed.
This thing wasn't a spawn.
Wasn't a devil.
Or a terror.
This—this was a Titan.
---
Night's body locked. His feet refused to move.
The Titan stepped forward, lifting its cracked sword again.
Air bent.
The hum grew louder.
Night's eyes widened. He tried to move—
But he knew.
He was too late.
The blade came down, the shockwave shattering his surroundings.