The moon hovered high over Dravengarde, silvering the cobblestones and whispering of quiet things stirring in the wake of spectacle. Thorne—still known only as Masked Fang to the public—walked the edge of the guild courtyard, his steps light but deliberate. The cheers from the Crucible of Trials still echoed faintly through the city, but his mind was already elsewhere.
[System Notification: Crucible Event Rewards Distributed. Reputation Increase Registered. Current Public Rank: D-Class. Hidden Assessment: AA-Class Confirmed.]
He ignored the pop-up. His gaze lingered on the Heart of Ashlight glimmering in his hand. Warm to the touch. Alive, in some quiet way. He had sensed the resonance the moment he retrieved it. A thread of his legacy, intertwined with this world in ways he couldn't yet understand.
[Passive Scan Complete. Alchemical Core Identified as Fragment of Emberborn Relic. Legacy Correlation Detected. Recommend Analysis: Obsidian Sanctum Archivist.]
"Not yet," he muttered.
It was too soon. He'd just stepped into the light. He needed footing first—a base of strength, resources, connections. Besides, no one could know he was tied to the Sovereign Clan. Not now.
The next day dawned crisp. Dravengarde bustled anew, the festival winds shifting into the quiet momentum of daily life. Inside the Guild Hall, conquerors gathered for post-event briefings and dungeon assignments.
Thorne—still masked—waited in line.
"Next!"
He stepped forward. The same clerk from registration glanced up and narrowed her eyes.
"Masked Fang. Back already?"
"Need a dungeon assignment. Preferably C-rank."
She raised a brow. "You sure? You could move up to B-rank based on performance."
"C-rank," he repeated. "Solo clearance."
"Suit yourself."
She tapped the interface crystal, pulling up available dungeons. "We've got one on the outskirts of Eldrath Valley. Recently destabilized. Clean-up clearance pending. Might be more volatile than usual."
"I'll take it."
[System Notification: Quest Synced. Location: Eldrath Valley, C-Rank Dungeon - "Hollow Pyre". Status: Unstable. Estimated Completion Reward: 1200 Guild Coins + Material Drop + Combat Skill Enhancement.]
He left with minimal supplies. Sovereign's Will remained sealed on his back, its hunger dormant but watchful. The valley greeted him with a chill mist and the scent of scorched leaves. Whatever was inside this dungeon, it had left traces in the land itself.
The portal stood like a silent wound, flickering red at the edges. Thorne stepped through.
[Dungeon: Hollow Pyre]
Immediately, heat surged through his veins. Fire-based elemental magic saturated the air. The ground was cracked obsidian, and structures—half-formed towers and molten bridges—twisted in unnatural symmetry.
[Environmental Hazard: Volcanic Mana Density Detected. Passive Resistance Engaged.]
Flame elementals spawned from drifting ash clouds, writhing in chaotic clusters. Thorne moved with purpose, each strike calculated. The blade sliced through fire, absorbing traces of essence.
[Ability Evolved: Adaptive Slash → Ashrend. Effect: Enhanced Damage Against Flame-Type Entities.]
Within hours, the dungeon bent to his will. At its heart, a molten titan rose—a colossus formed from cooled magma and lightning. The fight shook the dungeon's foundation, but Thorne never faltered. He fought like a phantom with purpose, precise and brutal.
When the titan fell, the dungeon cracked like glass.
[Dungeon Cleared. Reward: Core of the Hollow Flame. Material Drop: Volcanic Crystal x3. Guild Coin Transfer In Progress.]
[System Sync: Core Resonates With Legacy Thread. Progress +0.2%. Hidden Trait Unlocked: Fireborne Defiance – Passive Resistance to Burn, Heat, and Fire-Based Magic Increased.]
He stepped out as the portal collapsed behind him. Another victory. Another silent piece of the puzzle.
Upon return to Dravengarde, the guild clerk met him with surprise.
"Back already? That dungeon was flagged for instability. Did you clear it solo?"
He nodded.
"Not bad for a D-rank," she muttered, typing away. "You sure you want to stay off the radar?"
"For now."
As he turned, a voice spoke behind him.
"Your movements. Too precise for a rookie."
He didn't turn, but he didn't have to. Kaela.
She walked beside him without invitation, her pace effortless, gaze unreadable. For a moment, they were just two conquerors lost in the city's breath.
"You're gathering legacy fragments," she said, not asking.
He didn't answer.
"Be careful," she added, her voice quieter. "Some legacies don't want to be reclaimed."
Before he could respond, she vanished into the crowd.
And Thorne stood still, the wind whispering through his cloak, the fire of his path growing ever brighter beneath the mask.