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The sun dipped below the emerald canopy of Eryndor's endless forests, casting long shadows that stretched like grasping fingers over the ground. In the small village of Verdant Hollow, nestled at the edge of the towering Whispering Abyss, a young boy sat cross-legged beside a Mana Spring. The spring bubbled gently, its waters glowing faintly in the fading light.

Yǒnghéng stared at the reflection of his own face, distorted by the rippling surface. His hands trembled as he held the talisman—a simple yet intricate carving of an ancient beast. It had belonged to his grandfather, a revered beast tamer who had commanded the respect of the entire Verdant Concord. Yǒnghéng's grandfather had said the talisman would guide him to his awakening. But years had passed, and it had guided him to nothing but frustration.

The faint hum of life in the forest seemed to mock him. A bird's song, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the rhythmic croak of frogs—they all belonged here. But he, the boy with no Soul Construct, did not.

"You're wasting your time, Yǒnghéng."

The voice came from behind him, sharp and dismissive. Yǒnghéng didn't need to turn to know it was his elder brother, Yǔzhi.

Yǔzhi stepped into view, his tall frame casting a shadow over Yǒnghéng. Beside him walked his Soul Construct—a massive, spectral wolf with glowing green eyes and a mane of ethereal light. The wolf padded silently, its presence exuding both grace and power.

Yǒnghéng glanced at it briefly, then returned his gaze to the spring. "I'll awaken. I just need more time."

Yǔzhi crossed his arms, his expression a mixture of pity and impatience. "You're fifteen. By now, even the weakest in the village have awakened something. You're clinging to a false hope."

The words struck like a blow, but Yǒnghéng didn't flinch. "The forest hasn't rejected me yet."

"Maybe it should." Yǔzhi sighed. "The Concord only values strength. If you can't awaken, you'll bring shame to our family. You should think about leaving."

Yǒnghéng clenched his fists. "I won't give up."

Yǔzhi's wolf growled softly, but Yǔzhi raised a hand to silence it. He stared at his younger brother for a long moment before shaking his head. "Suit yourself. Just don't expect anyone to wait for you."

With that, he turned and walked away, the spectral wolf fading into motes of green light as it returned to his soul.

Long after the village lights had dimmed, Yǒnghéng stood at the edge of the Whispering Abyss. A chill wind swept up from the chasm, carrying faint, haunting echoes. The Abyss was a place of legend and fear, where countless adventurers had entered but few had returned.

Yǒnghéng tightened his grip on the talisman. If the forest wouldn't help him, perhaps the Abyss would.

Taking a deep breath, he descended into the darkness.

The air grew colder as Yǒnghéng climbed down jagged stone steps carved into the chasm wall. The faint light of the surface faded, replaced by the luminous glow of fungi clinging to the rocks. Shadows danced on the uneven walls, and every sound seemed amplified—the crunch of his footsteps, the drip of water, the distant growl of unseen creatures.

Hours passed as he ventured deeper. The talisman in his hand grew warm, a sign that he was nearing something. He pressed on, ignoring the fatigue in his legs and the growing sense of unease.

Suddenly, the narrow path opened into a vast cavern. Stalagmites and stalactites loomed like jagged teeth, and at the center of the chamber stood a crystalline formation that pulsed with an eerie light. Embedded within it was a shard of brilliant energy—a relic unlike anything Yǒnghéng had ever seen.

The talisman in his hand glowed in response, vibrating faintly.

As Yǒnghéng approached the relic, the air grew heavy with mana. His heart raced, but he couldn't stop now. He reached out, his fingers brushing the shard.

Pain.

A searing agony shot through his body, as if his very soul were being torn apart. Yǒnghéng fell to his knees, clutching his chest

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