heir

"I must say, you look lost. To put it into perspective, every time you've seen any creature fight, when do you know for certain they've won?"

His voice grew more resolute, yet filled with unsteady spikes of hesitance. "When... one of them dies."

"Exactly, Dawn. What you were doing was just swinging a sword—it had no aim. From this day forward, whenever you practice, imagine your enemy before you. Swing your sword as if you're cutting their neck, winning through... death."

And so, Dawn continued. For the next two days, at night, he silently read over the books of enchantments he had been given. During the day, he tirelessly practiced swordsmanship, never learning a true style—just swinging his sword with the aim of death in front of him.

It was reminiscent of the first time the Titan and he had met. The beautiful, almost angelic Titan sat before him upon his obsidian-black throne that seemed to absorb light itself. His stunning heterochromia eyes slowly closed, growing tired and wistful.

"I've taught you all you need to know to survive, to thrive. To be honest, I'm done."

His gaze shone with solemnity, yet deep within his irises, there was a sprinkle of sadness. "Thank you, Spawn of Destiny. Your help will never be forgotten."

With no fanfare, excitement, or even a final goodbye, the Titan closed his eyes and disappeared—to where, who knows? But Dawn was sure of one thing: the cold and impartial voice of the spell rang through his mind.

[You have killed the Cursed Titan, Spawn of Destiny.] 

[You have obtained 2 memories.]

Just like that, the throne room, once filled with majestic glory, was empty. Dawn's shallow yet soft breathing was the only sound that could be heard.

Summoning the familiar runes in a display of blood-red sparks, his status screen appeared. Focusing mentally on the new memories he had obtained, his gaze widened. The light of awe and confusion overtook everything else.

---

[The Forger's Crown]

Rank: Divine

Tier: 7

Type: utility

Memory Description: The maleficent crown worn only by those of the Forger's blood. It stands as a constant reminder that all destiny forged will represent your end.

---

[Golden Ichor] 

Rank: Divine 

Tier: ?

Type: ?

Memory Description: Throughout his life, the Spawn of Destiny never truly chose for himself—until his creator, at death's door, gave him one choice: death or eternal rest. Weeping with joy, he decided to rest, not knowing how empty solitude would be.

---

"There's no way," he whispered, his voice turning reverent, almost fervent with insanity. His voice broke as the quiet throne room was filled with his outburst.

"Two divine memories! The... the crown I can understand; he always wore it and never took it off. But what is this ichor thing?"

The voice of the spell, impartial and uncaring, carried an undertone of glee so subtle it was almost unnoticeable. 

[Would you like to consume the drop of Golden Ichor? Yes/No.]

Consume a memory? A divine memory? To let such a rare thing go to waste... or will it go to waste? Memories are meant to help the wielder—they're almost never useless, even if their use is rare. His thoughts clouded his mind, uncertain and unwilling. If Sunny were in this kind of situation, he would probably just say, "Fuck it."

"Spell, go ahead. I accept consuming this memory."

And so, the drop of Golden Ichor flowed from his palm, separating into a thousand particles of golden light heading toward his soul. At first, the sensation was pleasant and warming. Soon, it began to spread through his body, burning like an undying flame—constant and eternal.

He felt it deep within. His very being was changing. His eyes felt as if new lenses were being burned into his retinas. His bones felt like they were being crushed and twisted into a stronger version of themselves. And his blood, for whatever reason, felt heavier, yet flowed with deliberate smoothness.

As unbridled pain consumed his soul, he screamed his lungs out. If he had believed the pain he felt when he had just received his flaw was gut-wrenching and soul-destroying, then he knew nothing. The pain he currently felt was like his entire being was being burned alive for committing a sin he never even knew existed—all while his soul was being eaten out and replaced by something new.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain finally ended. What remained was Dawn on the floor, shriveled up, with pain etched into his features.

His voice, exhausted, croaked out with obvious discomfort. "Is it over? What changed? I can feel it deep within."

Summoning the runes of the spell, his eyes widened as he saw something he never thought he'd see—something he never knew even existed. A new line of runes had appeared.

As his gaze fell over the unfamiliar set of runes, the most definitely gleeful yet cold voice of the spell resounded throughout his mind. 

[You have obtained the Forbidden Lineage. You are now the Forger's Heir.]

author's thoughts: thanks for the reasent reviews, i'm finally getting used to the whole writing thing it's kind of nice :)