The group made their way down the road toward the distant village. As they got closer, they passed a strip of rundown businesses and houses. The streets were eerily empty—no people, just a few animals darting through the tall plains grass around the buildings.
A man poked his head out of a bar.
"Get your asses inside unless you want to die."
Without hesitation, the group crossed the street and stepped into the bar.
"What do you mean we'll die if we stay out there?" Kyren asked as they entered.
"Giant mole things come out at night," the bartender replied. "People stay quiet after dark. Don't draw attention, or your house is next."
"How many?" Lydel asked.
"Reckon twenty or thirty. About five feet tall. Sharp claws. Teeth like knives."
"What if we fix that?" Runa stepped forward.
"Well, not much money 'round here," the bartender said, "but we'd be mighty grateful."
"How about food and a room?" Kyren offered.
"If you clean them out, you can stay as long as you want."
"If we're gonna do this, is there at least a burrow they come from?" Lydel asked.
"Not sure. But folks say they come from behind the old church at the end of town."
Runa was already walking out the door. The boys followed.
"Why are we even doing this? I had enough coin to buy us rooms," Lydel muttered.
"Aren't you the one always talking about helping the outskirts?" Runa replied.
"I do care. I just want to sleep in a damn bed again," Lydel said, frustration leaking into his voice.
"Then we finish this quick, and you still get that bed," Kyren said, patting his shoulder.
"They must see with sound," Runa said. "They attack loud spots. So let's be that loud spot."
The village was just one long street: shops on one side, homes on the other. Five active businesses. Ten houses. And the ruined church at the end.
As Runa neared the church, she screamed—a piercing sound that echoed across the empty street. Three stone hatchets formed in her hands. Their handles were smooth, with natural bumps for grip. The blades darkened to near black, edges sharp as razors. The hatchets floated around her, ready to strike.
Kyren and Lydel drew their weapons. Lydel had finally learned—his sword now sat safely in his inventory, ready to be summoned.
The ground trembled.
A sound like grinding metal filled the air, and Kyren saw it—just around the side of the church, red eyes staring back. Then it exploded forward.
The mole stood five feet at the shoulder, its fur thick and velvet-dark. Its claws looked like chiseled stone—wide, brutal, and deadly. It bounded forward with surprising speed.
Runa launched a hatchet. It struck with a thud, bouncing off like it had hit rock. She followed with another, the blades circling and striking, but barely cutting through the mole's hide.
The creature's screeches echoed, and more answered. Red eyes flickered to life all around them.
Kyren readied his weapon, charging his blade with mana. When one mole stepped forward, Kyren dashed in, slamming both blades into its side. Lion's Requiem slid clean, but the dagger lodged deep in the beast's flesh.
Before he could pull it free, another mole slammed into him, sending him flying.
Kyren stood, gripping Lion's Requiem with both hands. The blade sharpened, glowing brighter as he flooded it with more mana. With a Soundless Step, he vanished and reappeared behind a mole, carving into the back of its neck. It twitched and dropped.
The dagger-stuck mole was still writhing. Kyren recalled the dagger into his inventory, choosing to fight with both hands on his sword. He dashed forward, slashing down any mole in sight.
The battle raged.
The original estimate was wrong—way off. Kyren alone had cut down over twenty. Runa's massive axe tore through the creatures, her movements elegant even in destruction. Lydel flashed through the horde, four afterimages slicing with precision.
There weren't just thirty. There were hundreds.
And though none of them were injured, the exhaustion was building.
Kyren gritted his teeth. It was time to end it.
With rapid Soundless Steps, he zipped through the battlefield, cleaving moles apart with each swing. Step. Slash. Step. Slash. Again and again.
By the time the last mole fell, the sky was brightening with the first light of dawn.
Kyren dropped to the ground in front of the ruined church, breathing hard.
"I thought you said I'd get to sleep in a damn bed," Lydel groaned, too tired to be mad.
"Then go back to the bar and get one," Kyren panted.
"You really tired already?" Runa teased, nudging Lydel with her shoulder.
"Leave me alone. Not all of us are fighting freaks like you two," he muttered, turning toward the bar.
Runa glanced at Kyren. "I'm heading back. You should too."
Kyren sat a bit longer, catching his breath. But something tugged at him—a pressure in his head, pulling him toward the church.
He tried to ignore it. Took a step. The pressure spiked.
He opened the system. The compass pointed straight into the church.
No new quest. No alerts. Just a gut-deep feeling.
Kyren turned and pushed open the barely-hinged church doors. The inside was rotted—floorboards soft, walls decaying. He walked past empty pews and climbed onto the stage.
A small podium stood at the center. On it, two dusty books.
Kyren picked them up. One was titled Conversion. The other: The Father's Way. He flipped through the pages quickly—intact. Good. He slid them into his inventory.
Still, the pressure remained.
Off to the side of the stage, he spotted a door.
He walked toward it.
When Kyren opened the door, he found a small room with nothing in it but a desk and a chair. The pressure hit him instantly—immense, heavy, more intense than anything he'd felt before. Not painful like when he tried to walk away earlier, but undeniable, like something watching him.
The emptiness of the room made it feel even more unsettling. As he stepped inside, the pressure only grew worse. Each footstep felt like a challenge. A warning.
Kyren walked over to the desk and searched it—nothing on top. No papers, no carvings. He opened each drawer—empty. Just an old desk. But the pressure… it didn't let up.
It intensified.
Kyren's body tensed. His jaw clenched. And then he slammed his fist down.
The top layer of the desk splintered beneath his strike, cracking apart and revealing something beneath—a hidden compartment carved into the wood.
And the pressure spiked.
He clutched his head, gritting his teeth as the pressure became overwhelming, echoing in his skull like a silent scream.
Through the shattered wood, he spotted a faint glimmer—a deep violet gem, glowing softly atop a silver pendant. Even before touching it, Kyren knew. He'd seen it before. Somewhere in a book… or maybe a vision. Maybe in a dream.
He reached into the compartment and wrapped his fingers around the pendant.
And then—
[System Notification]
[Ancestral Relic Identified: Crownshard Pendant – Legacy of Kyanna the Veiled Queen]
You have awakened the pendant of Kyanna, second Queen of Epsilon and the strongest warrior of her era.
Trait Gained: Queen's Veil
Skill Gained: Hyper Reflex
Artifact Awakened: Crownshard Pendant (Bound)
Legacy Path Unlocked: Veilborne Heir
Kyren's hand trembled slightly as the pendant pulsed with energy—energy that felt familiar, almost like an echo of something buried deep inside him. His blood. His legacy.