The sky hung heavy with a copper-red hue, as though the gods themselves bled sorrow across the heavens. Birds no longer sang in the village of Hallowmere—not out of fear, but silence. An odd kind of peace had blanketed the valley, like the calm before a storm.
Marcus Drelan knelt by the stream behind his family's hut, fingers dipped in the water, watching the current swirl around a small stone in his palm. It shimmered faintly, an emerald hue pulsing from its core. A Power Stone, weak but genuine. He'd discovered it in the forest days ago, hidden beneath a tree's roots. His heart still raced when he held it, though he hadn't dared show it to anyone.
Not yet.
"Still playing with rocks, Marcus?" a familiar voice called.
He turned to see Elara—sharp-tongued and clever-eyed—stepping barefoot across the grass. She was the blacksmith's daughter, a few summers older, and far bolder than Marcus ever pretended to be. She squinted at the glow in his hand and frowned.
"That's not just a stone, is it?"
Marcus hesitated. "It's... nothing dangerous."
"Nothing dangerous glows like that." Her gaze darkened. "You need to show it to Master Renald. He'll know if it's real."
He shook his head, slipping the stone into the pouch around his neck. "Not yet. Just... give me a little time. Please."
Elara gave him a long look but said nothing. Then, a low rumble echoed across the valley.
Both turned their heads.
It wasn't thunder.
The sound came again—louder this time—and with it, smoke began to rise from the western hill. One trail, then another, until the horizon blazed like a sun descending into the trees.
No time to speak.
No time to think.
Elara bolted first, her sandals forgotten in the grass. Marcus followed, dread curling around his spine. The village—his home—was burning.
By the time they reached the main road, chaos had already swallowed Hallowmere whole. Huts cracked and crumbled, flames leaping from rooftops like hungry beasts. Screams rang out as cloaked figures—dark-armoured and faceless—moved through the fire with unnatural precision, blades flashing in the light of destruction.
"Kill the crafters," one of them barked. "Find the boy. The Heart Stone must not fall to wild hands."
Marcus froze. The boy? The Heart Stone? He didn't understand—but his instincts screamed. Run.
Elara grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the town square. "We need Master Renald. He'll know what to do!"
But when they reached the elder's tower, it was too late. The doors were torn from their hinges, smoke billowing out like ghostly breath. Inside, Renald lay slumped against the wall, blood pooling beneath him. His eyes opened faintly as Marcus rushed to him.
"You—found it, didn't you?" the old man rasped, reaching weakly for Marcus's chest.
"The stone?" Marcus whispered.
"You touched it…" Renald coughed violently, blood flecking his beard. "You've awakened the System. It's watching you now."
Marcus shook his head, confused. "What System? What do I do?"
A rumble filled the room. Not from outside. From within his mind.
SYSTEM ONLINE
HOST: MARCUS DRELAN
STATUS: UNSTABLE CONNECTION
WARNING: FIRST QUEST ISSUED
OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE UNTIL DAWN
The words weren't spoken—they simply existed. Etched into his thoughts like ancient runes. Marcus staggered back, eyes wide.
"I didn't ask for this…"
Renald grabbed his wrist. "None of us do. But you must run, Marcus. The System has chosen you. You can't fight this—not yet."
The door burst open. Three of the cloaked warriors stepped through, blades drawn. The tallest pointed directly at Marcus.
"There," he growled. "Kill the girl. Capture the host."
Elara screamed and raised a dagger—Renald's old one—hurling it into the first attacker's chest. It buried itself deep, but the man barely flinched. He kept walking.
Marcus ran.
Out of the tower, down the burning street, heart exploding with fear. Flames reached for him, smoke filled his lungs, and all around him, the only sound was the same three words over and over:
"Kill him."
"Kill him."
"Kill him."
He dashed into the woods, branches slapping his face, roots grabbing his feet. Behind him, footsteps thundered—unnatural and relentless. Arrows sliced through the air. One grazed his cheek. Another shattered against a tree beside him.
The stone pulsed in his pouch.
And then—he tripped.
He hit the forest floor hard. The stone rolled free and struck a flat stone slab beneath the moss. Symbols lit up across the stone's surface, ancient and golden. A circle formed beneath Marcus's body—then vanished.
Pain.
Searing pain.
A new voice echoed in his mind—deeper, colder.
"You've broken the seal. The Infinite Core accepts you. But power has its price."
His vision faded. Darkness wrapped him in silence.
And somewhere far, far away, he heard Elara scream his name.