The door slammed shut behind him with a sound like thunder, sealing Kael inside a world where time seemed suspended. The air was thick with the scent of old paper, burnt incense, and something else older, deeper, like the echo of forgotten prayers.
The interior of the cottage was larger than it had appeared from outside. Walls lined with endless shelves sagged beneath the weight of tomes, scrolls, and vials glowing faintly with every shade of unnatural light. At the center of the room stood a single stone basin, etched with ancient runes that pulsed softly as Kael approached.
The woman who had invited him inside no, not invited, summoned walked ahead of him without turning back. Her presence was regal, almost divine, and yet there was something chilling beneath her elegance.
"Sit," she commanded, pointing to a rough wooden stool beside the basin.
Kael obeyed.
She turned to him slowly. "I am Aria of the Ashen Veil. Some call me a witch. Others a heretic. The Church wants me dead. The Empire fears me. But I do not care for titles."
Kael looked up, his voice hoarse. "I don't need to know your name. Just give me the power."
Aria's smile did not reach her eyes. "Power without cost is a lie. Everything has a price, and hatred is the most demanding of currencies."
She waved her hand, and the surface of the stone basin shimmered, revealing a scene that froze Kael's breath.
His village. His mother. His father. Their final moments played out in vivid illusion, looping again and again.
Kael clenched his fists until blood dripped from his palms.
"I will never forget," he whispered. "I will never forgive."
"Good," Aria said softly. "Hatred like that can sharpen even the dullest soul. But if you want to become more than a man if you wish to challenge emperors, gods, and fate itself you must become something else entirely."
She reached into her robe and pulled out a black dagger etched with silver veins. Its very presence made the room grow colder.
"This," she said, handing it to him, "is your oath. Cut your palm. Let your blood fall into the basin. Swear upon it that you will walk the path to its bitter end. Only then can the contract be sealed."
Kael stared at the blade. Then at the basin. Then back at Aria.
"I swear," he said, slicing open his palm without hesitation. Blood splashed into the basin, mixing with the runes.
The runes flared, brighter than before red, gold, violet. The energy surged, and Kael gasped as it wrapped around him, searing his veins with light and pain. Symbols carved themselves into his flesh, glowing for a moment before fading beneath his skin.
He screamed, not from pain, but from awakening.
When it ended, Kael knelt on the floor, breathing heavily. He could feel it now. Magic raw and alive pulsing inside him like a second heartbeat.
Aria knelt beside him. "You are now a Tier 1 Mage. The first step on a long road. There are nine Tiers in total. Each level a gateway to new strength, new knowledge… and new torment."
"And beyond the ninth?" Kael asked through clenched teeth.
"Divinity," Aria whispered. "A realm only a few have ever reached. To cross that boundary, you must build not just power, but faith. You must make the world believe in you, worship you. Only then will you rise beyond mortality."
Kael looked into the glowing basin. In its reflection, he no longer saw a boy.
He saw the outline of a tyrant.
"I'll build a church," he murmured. "I'll build an empire. I'll make them pray to me before I crush them."
Aria chuckled. "Then your journey begins now, Emperor."