A True Dracknum

"Boy, are you really a Dracknum?"

Galdric's words echoed in my mind, the silence stretching into something suffocating.

My first reaction was confusion. My chest tightened as I tried—just for a moment—to grasp the meaning behind that question. But… I gave up.

"Why ask that?" My voice was steady, but deep down, uncertainty lurked.

Galdric offered a faint smile. It wasn't mocking, nor was it one of satisfaction. It was one of contemplation.

"Under normal circumstances," he began, crossing his arms while watching me, "anyone would take offense. They'd raise their voice in fury and proclaim, 'I am a Dracknum!'" He paused briefly, tilting his head as if assessing my reaction.

"But you're different." There was something in his tone I couldn't ignore.

My hands clenched into fists, almost reflexively.

"Perhaps," Galdric continued, "you've already suspected that something is off. That maybe you're not of pure blood. Or… maybe you don't have Dracknum blood at all."

The room seemed to close in around me. The world outside faded into nothing.

I didn't respond. My mind was screaming, but… I remained silent. Because everything he said was true—this doubt had always lingered within me.

Galdric, however, didn't seem disappointed by my lack of response. If anything, he looked pleased.

"Strange," he mused, stroking his silver beard. "I, who feel no emotions, am experiencing something remarkably close to curiosity when I look at you, boy."

His golden eyes narrowed slightly. "But there is one undeniable fact. I would not have awakened unless summoned by a true Dracknum."

His gaze lingered on me, fascinated. "Which means… no matter how mixed your blood may be, it remains pure."

I swallowed hard. That should have been a relief, and yet… why didn't it feel like one?

But Galdric wasn't finished. His voice grew heavier, more probing. 

His golden eyes bore into me, dissecting my very existence. "And yet, you are a direct descendant," he said, his tone meticulously curious.

His eyes gleamed. "Your lineage is extremely strong. Unquestionably pure. But at the same time…" He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his gaze, as if trying to reconcile a contradiction. "Just what are you?"

His words weighed on me, but my mind was elsewhere.

I couldn't answer. Because the moment he questioned my identity… my very consciousness spiraled into chaos.

It makes sense. Was my body artificially created? No. More like… modified.

My existence wasn't natural to this world. I was both born in Asgardia and not born at all. My body had been shaped, altered to fit into this reality.

So, was that it? Was that why I lacked the traits of a Dracknum?

My thoughts spun, desperately searching for something—anything—that could prove or disprove that conclusion. And then… a name surfaced in my mind.

'Leopold.'

'He said we wouldn't have any issues with our lineage.'

'Damn it…' I muttered under my breath.'

'He also said I wouldn't have identity crises. And look where that got me!' 

My jaw clenched. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't even noticed Galdric continuing to speak. His words reached my ears, but they slipped away before I could grasp them. My mind was drowning in the whirlwind of my own doubts.

There had been cases before—family members who weren't immune to illusions or were born with weaker bodies. But in every case, the explanation had been simple: their blood wasn't pure enough.

But that wasn't my case. 'So why? What's wrong with me?'

Galdric's voice cut through the storm in my mind, but I wasn't listening.

"Alexander." He called again, firmer this time.

Still, my thoughts were lost in the chaos.

Until—

PAF!

"Agh!!" My body jolted slightly from the impact, the sting on my forehead spreading like embers beneath my skin.

"Was that really necessary?!" I snapped, rubbing the sore spot while glaring at Galdric.The blow wasn't strong enough to actually hurt me, but it was just enough to snap me back to reality.

The golem crossed his arms, watching me with an unforgiving gaze. "If this were anywhere else, you'd already be dead." His tone was cold, matter-of-fact.

I scowled, irritation bubbling to the surface. 

"What kind of hunter gets distracted so easily?" Galdric's voice was firm.

"I'm not a hunter!" I shot back immediately, the frustration in my voice sharper than I intended.

Shaking my head, I let out an impatient sigh. "Anyway… what was that loop?" I asked, shifting the conversation, trying to reorganize my thoughts.

"Loop?" Galdric echoed, clear confusion in his voice.

I closed my eyes for a second. 'Argh.'

I sighed internally, realizing my mistake. "That endless fall… with Jotundrim inscriptions."

That bottomless abyss had intrigued me since the moment I arrived in this cavern. More than Galdric. More than the mausoleum itself.

Sentient golems were fascinating, sure, but they weren't beyond belief. Just impossible to create in this age. Legends and old tales were full of creatures like him.

The Blood Mausoleum, on the other hand, was far more intriguing. A lost relic of the past, shrouded in mystery. But looking around, it didn't seem all that impressive—at least not this part. Maybe I was still in the outer sections.

Even so, the abyss remained at the top of my list of questions.

"Seriously… whose damn idea was that riddle?" I muttered.

Galdric crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. "You're referring to the Fall of Discernment." His golden eyes flickered as if pulling memories from a distant era. "It has been a long time since anyone entered through there…"

'Or through any other entrance, for that matter.' That thought surfaced immediately in my mind.

Anyone with even a passing interest in Dracknum history knew that the mausoleum had multiple entrances, each with a different requirement. But the specifics—the exact number, their locations—had been lost to time. In fact, no detailed records of the mausoleum had ever been preserved. Only vague, widely known facts, passed down orally.

"It's nothing more than an illusion," Galdric began. But upon noticing the look on my face, he corrected himself, "Or rather, not in the way you think. After all, Dracknums are immune to illusions."

I crossed my arms, waiting for him to elaborate. So far, none of this made any sense to me.

"The fall isn't some simple illusion spell or complex enchantment." He lifted one metallic hand, moving his fingers through the air as if outlining an invisible concept. "It's far simpler than it seems."

"A mix of airborne hallucinogens, subtle shifts in perspective, strategically placed magical formations… And, of course, a deep enough hole." He tilted his head slightly. "Voilà. A perfect illusion—without using illusion magic."

My expression darkened. "What?" The word escaped before I could hold it back.

That didn't make sense.

The experience had been real. The sharp wind against my skin, the chill down my spine, the way my body reacted to the void beneath me. That wasn't just some cheap trick. And if there were hallucinogens in the air, I should've felt something afterward—dizziness, disorientation, any kind of side effect.

But I hadn't. Nothing at all.

"Boy, even if I explained it down to the last detail, you wouldn't understand."

A flicker of irritation rose in my chest, but I kept my expression neutral.

Galdric continued. "What you need to understand is that a hunter, a warrior… anyone who lives immersed in bloodshed and battle is always alert. But that constant state of tension doesn't just affect the mind. It affects the body, too."

"The riddle exists for a reason," he went on. "Someone who is too tense, always on guard, or overthinks things will never solve it. When under extreme stress—like you, and everyone else who has fallen into the abyss—whether from time spent in the Black Forest or other factors, people tend to overlook simple things. They fail to see the obvious."

He paused, watching me carefully before continuing. "The vast majority of those who pass the test do so without even realizing it."

That caught me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Many fail because they either can't find the riddle or can't understand it. But… those who give up and simply let go end up escaping without even trying."

I took a few seconds to process that.

'So my approach had actually been correct. I just had to relax my body.'

But that only raised more questions, I fixed my gaze on Galdric. "And where does Jotundrim fit into this?"

He let out a low chuckle, almost mocking. "If I still had emotions, I'd say I'm impressed. Very few people who make it here can even read Jotundrim, let alone understand it."

I said nothing.

"Some spend weeks, even months inside the abyss, unable to figure out the riddle. But in the end… there always comes a moment when the body tires. The mind gives in. And then…" He shrugged. "The path reveals itself."

I frowned, trying to piece it all together. "So, in the end… it was all just about not fighting against it?"

Galdric smiled. "Exactly."

I let out a long sigh. On one hand, it was frustrating. On the other… it made sense. But there was still something gnawing at me.

"Alright, fine. I get the concept." I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to organize my thoughts.

"But what about the Jotundrim? You still haven't answered that." Crossing my arms, I stared at him expectantly. "And more importantly… who is Abel Dracknum?"

Galdric remained silent for a few moments. The glow in his golden eyes seemed to intensify briefly, but his expression—if a golem could even have one—remained unreadable.

My patience was starting to wear thin. "…And why wouldn't I understand how the Abyss of Discernment works? For that matter, why the hell is it even called that? It has nothing to do with discernment."

Still no response. He just watched me. The silence grew heavier, almost tangible, pressing down on the space between us.

Then, to my surprise, Galdric let out a small sigh and—was that a faint smile? "This is why I was against letting children take the trial."

"Children?" I frowned.

It had been a murmur, almost like he was speaking to himself. But loud enough for me to hear.

A sharp pang of irritation hit me. "What, cat got your tongue? Why don't you just answer me already?" I grumbled, crossing my arms tighter.

Galdric uncrossed his own and stepped forward. "Boy, you are not ready for those answers. Whether it's because you are still too young, too fragile, or because your foundation simply isn't solid enough." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "Be patient. When you gain more experience, you'll come to understand naturally."

I rolled my eyes, frustrated. 'Is it that hard to just admit he doesn't know? Or that he simply doesn't want to answer?'

Swallowing my annoyance, I let out a deep sigh, it wasn't worth pressing the issue right now. 

"Fine, whatever." I shook my head, focusing on what actually mattered. "How do I get out of here?"

The golem didn't answer immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me with that same infuriating calm that felt completely out of sync with my urgency.

"You've barely arrived, and you're already eager to leave?" he muttered, crossing his arms once again.

I didn't respond. I just stared at him, waiting for a useful answer.

He let out a brief sound—somewhere between a sigh and a dry chuckle.

"Unfortunately for you," he went on, "you can only leave this place after completing the trial."

My body tensed. The words echoed in my mind, stirring memories that had been buried beneath the adrenaline of recent events.

'How could I be so stupid?' The texts from ancient archives, the stories about the Blood Mausoleum—all of it started resurfacing in my brain.

"Once inside… only a true Dracknum can leave, isn't that right?" I murmured the words more to myself than to him, but Galdric nodded.

"Exactly."

I didn't like where this conversation was going. Not one bit.

My eyes narrowed. "And what does this trial consist of?"

"What are the risks?"

"How long does it take?"

Galdric tilted his head slightly, as if amused by my growing anxiety. "You'll only know once it begins."

I clenched my jaw, feeling my fists tighten instinctively. 

'Fantastic.' I scoffed internally, my mind dripping with sarcasm.