When the Door Opens

It started with a whisper.

A breath of rumor, flickering through the city like a candle in the wind.

The Titan of illusion dungeon was opening.

At first, no one believed it. The dungeon had been sealed for centuries—guarded by the Titan Council, protected by glyphs so ancient that even the greatest scholars of Core resonance dared not challenge them. To most, the dungeon were nothing more than a story, a cautionary tale of power lost to time.

But as the second sun dipped beyond the horizon, the whispers became voices.

The doors had stirred.

Some said it was a mistake, an accident of fate. Others claimed the Titans themselves had willed it, their restless remnants calling out to those who carried their blood. Whatever the truth, one thing was certain: the dungeon were no longer silent.

And that was enough to shake the city to its core.

By the time the first rays of dawn slashed through the sky, the Titan Council had already moved.

The plaza surrounding the dungeon' entrance had transformed overnight.

Core sentinels lined the perimeter, their bodies etched with runes, their eyes glowing with artificial life. Council enforcers—men and women clad in obsidian armor, each wielding a Titan Core of exceptional strength—formed a solid blockade.

Above them, the sky itself had been marked. Glyphs shimmered in the air, forming a barrier unseen but ever-present, a final layer of defense against those who dared step too close.

The message was clear:

You may hear the whispers. But you will not enter.

Yet even as the Council exerted its dominance, the city buzzed with anticipation.

Because no matter how many sentinels lined the walls—

No matter how many threats were whispered into the wind—

The doors had begun to open.

And something inside was calling.

Most Titan Users hesitated. The dungeon were legend, but the Council was real. Even the strongest mercenaries and rogue factions thought twice before challenging them outright.

But there were always those who didn't care.

The outliers.

They came from different places. Different pasts.

But they all shared one trait:

They did not fear the unknown.

The first to step forward was Raymond Scorch.

A rogue Titan User, once branded a war criminal, now a legend in the underground. His Titan Core burned with such intensity that the air around him shimmered, waves of lava distorting his very form. He moved with slow, deliberate purpose, his molten gaze fixed on the dungeon.

He wasn't here for treasure.

He was here for a fight.

The second was a woman dressed in flowing black, her face obscured beneath a veil.

No one knew her name.

No one dared ask.

Some whispered that she was a veilborm protector—a descendant of the loffy clan . Others claimed she had carved her way through entire warbands with nothing but shadows at her command.

The third was not one, but two.

The Twins.

They were barely adults, yet their Titan Cores pulsed in perfect harmony.

Two souls intertwined—an unbreakable bond. But to them, it was a curse. They had scoured the world for a cure, a way to sever the link before one of them consumed the other. And now, they had come here—hoping the dungeon held the answer.

There where also several more of them about 15.

And then, there was him.

Zoren.

He had arrived under the cover of night, slipping into the city like a phantom.

But like the others, he did come searching.

His Core—both of them—had already answered the call.

Something inside the dungeon wasn't just awakening.

It was waiting for them.

From the moment he stepped into the city, he felt their eyes.

The Council's enforcers. The hidden spies in the crowd. The shifting glances of those who recognized his face, his bounty.

He had been hunted before.

But this was different.

This wasn't about the Vailborn Core in his chest.

It wasn't about his past.

It was about something else.

And that terrified him.

For a brief moment, doubt crept into his mind.

What if I'm not ready?

What if the Council isn't my biggest threat?

He clenched his fist. The black veins on his arm pulsed in response, threads of darkness twisting beneath his skin.

No.

He had already come this far.

He wasn't alone in this city anymore.

And that meant he had a chance.

At first, the Council's entire focus was on Zoren.

He was the anomaly. The Vailborn Core wielder. The one they had spent years fearing.

But then the others came.

One by one, Titan Users of exceptional strength stepped forward.

And suddenly—the Council hesitated.

For years, they had feared one.

The chosen wielder. The one the prophecy spoke of.

But what if they had been wrong?

What if the prophecy wasn't about a single Titan User?

What if it was about many?

Councilor Merix, the eldest of the Council, stood upon the high balcony overlooking the plaza. His voice was quiet, but the weight of his words fell upon them like a mountain.

"He isn't alone," he murmured. "They're all drawn to it."

Beside him, Councilor Elsha's brown eyes narrowed. "Then we strike first."

Merix exhaled. "No."

Elsha stiffened. "What?!"

Merix's gaze never left the plaza. "They think they are hunting power. But power hunts them back."

His eyes darkened.

"Let the dungeon test them."

Now let's deal with those two we captured

---

A heavy silence filled the grand chamber of the Veyrith Council. The towering walls of ancient stone were lined with flickering braziers, their flames casting long shadows across the robed figures seated in judgment.

At the center, Talis and Linda stood in chains—though, if one were to judge by their expressions, one might think they had walked in of their own free will.

Linda tilted her head, her usual smirk never wavering. "So, when exactly do we get to the part where we're guilty of something?"

Talis let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "Could you, just once, not provoke the people deciding whether we walk out of here?"

Linda grinned. "What? It's a fair question."

At the head of the chamber, an elderly councilor—Grand Seer Viola—raised a hand, signaling for silence. His eyes were pale and sharp, like he could see straight through them.

"You were detained," he said, his voice like creaking wood, "because of your association with the one who was believed to be the Herald of Ruin."

Talis frowned. "Believed to be?"

Another councilor, a woman with silver-streaked hair, adjusted her robes. "Yes. After careful consideration… the Council has decided that Zoren is not the one spoken of in the prophecy."

Linda's smirk twitched.

"Oh? Just like that? You were all so sure before."

Valthren's expression didn't change. "We are no longer certain. The signs do not align. His Core is unstable. His path is… unclear."

Talis shot a glance at Linda. This felt too convenient. The Council had been so adamant before, treating Zoren like a walking catastrophe waiting to happen.

Now, they were just letting it go?

Linda's eyes narrowed. "And what if you're wrong?"

The silver-haired councilor's expression didn't waver. "Then it will no longer be our concern."

A pause.

Then, with an almost dismissive wave, Valthren spoke:

"You are both free to go. Leave this place."

Talis blinked. "That's it?"

Linda raised an eyebrow. "No threats? No mysterious warnings about 'forces beyond our understanding'?"

The silver-haired woman's lips curled into something that was almost a smile. "Take your freedom and go. Fate will decide the rest."

Talis didn't wait for a second invitation. He turned on his heel and strode toward the exit, dragging Linda along with him.

The moment they were outside, he exhaled. "Okay. That was too easy."

Linda tapped a finger to her chin, thoughtful. "Either they really believe Zoren isn't the one… or they're waiting for something else to happen."

Talis groaned. "I hate this city."

Linda grinned. "It does have a flair for the dramatic."

She glanced toward the distant skyline, where Zoren's path was still unfolding.

"Let's see what Fate really has to say about him."

"Let meet up with Nyssa and wait for him at the entrance of the dungeon"

---

As Zoren stepped forward, the voices grew stronger.

They whispered to him—ancient, fractured memories not his own.

Come back.

You are not the first.

You will not be the last.

The ground beneath his feet pulsed.

The air vibrated.

And for the first time, Zoren understood.

The dungeon weren't just a place of power.

They were a prison.

And something inside…

Was waiting to be set free.

---

To be continued.