The First Treasure

Soren, guided by Aeternis' knowledge, carved chunks of monster meat and found a spot beneath the dense roots of a towering tree.

The beast's outer hide was far easier to cut through compared to the Ironfang he had encountered earlier—suggesting that the previous monster's fur had been laced with some form of metallic composition. This one, however, lacked such resilience, its flesh parting beneath his blade with ease.

Even so, every movement sent a dull ache through his body.

The monster had landed a clean strike against his chest earlier, and though the blood had clotted, sealing the wounds, the lingering marks still throbbed with every shift. They weren't deep enough to hinder him, but the discomfort was a constant reminder of how close that fight had been.

Shaking the thought aside, Soren gathered dry branches, stacking them into a modest fire pit. He impaled slices of meat onto sharpened sticks, arranging them above the embers that he had yet to create.

Today, he intended to make fire on his own. He could have simply relinquished control to Aeternis, but that wouldn't help him learn to wield a new element.

Seated beside the fireplace, sweat clung to his black hair, the strands sticking against his forehead. He closed his eyes and stretched both hands toward the pit, his focus turning inward. Once again, he sought to feel the essence coursing through his body.

The sun had yet to set, its lingering rays breaching the thick forest canopy, bathing him in streaks of warm light.

Soren fixated on that warmth. The gentle heat against his skin—the purifying glow that stripped away impurities. That was the sensation he wanted to replicate. A controlled, refined flame—not chaotic, not wild. A fire that burned only what he willed it to burn.

He shaped his essence, forming small, swirling currents within his palms. Then, he pushed them outward, guiding them toward the pit. The moment his essence surged forth, he felt an abrupt drain—as if he had expended everything in an instant.

Warmth radiated against his skin.

Soren's marble-black eyes fluttered open.

A brilliant white flame danced within the pit. Unlike ordinary fire, it glowed rather than burned—its core a pure, radiant white, rimmed with golden hues along its edges. It was neither flickering nor erratic. Instead, it held steady, unwavering, as if sculpted by his will alone.

His gaze lingered on the ethereal flame, momentarily frozen.

It wasn't normal fire.

Yet, as the sizzling of meat filled the air, he confirmed—it functioned the same.

Aeternis, resting lazily across his lap, let out a dry scoff."Cooking with holy fire, pfft… show-off."

So that's what it is.

The realization settled in. It wasn't uncontrolled flame. It was something precise. Deliberate. A fire that purified rather than destroyed.

As the meat sizzled over the purified flames, Soren finally had time to inspect the inheritance he had received.

His vision dimmed, and for a brief moment, he plunged into the abyss.

A subtle change had occurred within his awakened soul.[54/1000]—a minuscule step forward. He had gained two fragments, but he was still far from fulfilling it.

His gaze then shifted to a new entry in the inheritance section.

'Obsidian Veil'

Soren's focus locked onto the words.

'Obsidian Veil'

Type: armor

Tier: Awakened

Description: Obsidian Hunters were feared predators of the deep forests. Their skin veiled them in the night, allowing them to hunt their prey effortlessly and unseen. Recognizing the utility of their hides, craftsmen once forged armor woven from their essence, granting wearers the same ghost-like concealment.

Soren exhaled slowly, absorbing the information.

Had the monster attacked him at night… he wouldn't have seen it coming.

His fingers instinctively tensed against his thigh. The creature's natural advantage had been stripped away by pure luck—had their encounter taken place under the cover of darkness, he might not have even realized he was being hunted until it was far too late.

Had the monster attacked him at night… he wouldn't have seen it coming.Now, he carried that same unseen presence. A silent shadow.

Soren blinked, and the abyss vanished. He was back by the campfire, where the rich scent of sizzling meat filled the air. The quiet crackling of flames grounded him in the present, but his mind lingered on the inheritance.

He thought for a moment. Should he summon it?

After a brief hesitation, he decided—he needed to see what was now part of his arsenal.

With a subtle command, a black glow rippled over his body.

For a fleeting moment, something pressed against his skin—not heavy, not suffocating, but present. Then, the veil of darkness peeled away, regressing inward to reveal the armor beneath.

Soren glanced down.

His body and hands were shrouded in a deep-black tunic, wrapped in layered, fitted cloth. The material wasn't just dark—it drank in the surrounding shadows, absorbing the dim light around him.

Despite being called armor, there was no plating. No clinking metal. No rigid weight. Just glimmering darkness.

Curious, Soren raised his hand toward a patch of shadow cast by the tree roots.

The moment his fingers entered the darkness—they vanished.

His arm seemed to dissolve into the night itself, leaving only his pale hands shimmering faintly, suspended in the void. If the shade were darker—like it would be during the dead of night—he doubted he'd be able to see his hand at all. It was as if the tunic wasn't just dyed black but woven from the shadows themselves, adapting to the dimness around it.

Soren exhaled softly. This was far better than what he had before.

He stripped off the ragged pieces of cloth that had barely held together on his journey and discarded them without hesitation. The Obsidian Veil was not just a tunic—it even included footwear, or rather, a layered wrapping that secured itself around his feet with a solid, near-silent grip.

A perfect fit.

Satisfied, Soren donned the dark, layered tunic, feeling its weightless embrace. He ran a hand over the fabric, watching as it absorbed the light, shifting between shadow and substance. A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

This was the first true 'treasure' he had found.

There were still pressing matters—survival, civilization, finding Auren—but for now, this fleeting moment of discovery made the journey just a bit more bearable.

Soren reached for the cooked pieces of meat resting near the fire, their outer layers glistening with juices.

He picked up one. The crispy edges were slightly charred, the golden-brown crust dripping with fat, carrying the smoky scent of burnt wood and embers. The aroma rushed to his nose, rich and intoxicating after days of consuming whatever he could find.

Without hesitation, he bit in.

The taste was exactly as it looked—warm, tender, rich with fat. The juices coated his tongue with a satisfying burst of flavor, far beyond the raw, lifeless meat he had forced himself to swallow before. Compared to that…

This was heaven.

As he ate, Aeternis remained uncharacteristically quiet.

For once, the sword had no complaints—perhaps because it wasn't being used as cutlery this time. Or maybe it feared that speaking up would condemn it to that fate.

Soren finished his meal faster than expected, hunger driving him to devour the cooked meat without hesitation. With nothing left to eat, he conjured a small stream of water, drinking deeply before using the rest to extinguish the lingering embers of his white flame.

The fire had been no larger than his fist, yet strangely, it took more essence to put it out than it had to summon it in the first place. Another mystery for later.

Once again, nightfall crept through the forest. The golden rays of twilight faded, swallowed by the thickening dark. But this time…

Soren felt safer.

His entire presence had been veiled—wrapped in shadows, erased from sight. Beneath the roots of the towering tree, there was no sign of life. Nothing but the faint glow of his pale hands and fingers, barely visible against the blackened tunic.

For the first time since entering this forest, he wasn't exposed.

Tonight had been a success.

He had summoned fire, even if it wasn't exactly the type he wanted.He had eaten a proper meal, restoring his energy.He had obtained his first true armor—one that was a clear upgrade from his previous rags.

Aeternis had tried to convince him to take the monster's intestines—for whatever ridiculous reason—but he had ignored it. He wasn't that desperate.

Now, for the first time in days, he felt like he had taken a step forward.

A step toward escaping the forest.Toward civilization.Toward his next move.

As Soren settled in, the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly.

Tomorrow, his journey would continue.

But for now, he would rest.

The forest whispered with distant shrieks and the howling wind, but he paid them no mind. Most monsters wouldn't notice him like this. His presence was veiled, his breath steady. And if anything did approach—

Aeternis lay in his hands. Ready. Always watching.

With that reassurance, he allowed his exhaustion to take hold.

***

Soren woke to the gray light of dawn.

Nothing had disturbed him during the night. No sudden rustling. No lurking presence.

The gash on his chest had nearly vanished, the deep claw marks now reduced to faint scars. His body healed faster than he expected, another advantage of his awakened state.

With a slow breath, he rose to his feet.

Today, he would pick up the pace.

The footprints he had been tracking were still ahead, and if his estimations were correct—he would soon catch up to whoever left them.

If they were human.

Soren adjusted his grip on Aeternis and started moving.