THE BLOOD OF FIRST KING
Yor stepped into the corridor.
Behind him, the door closed on its own. No sound. No light. Just silence. Heavy, thick, and ancient.
It felt like stepping into a dream… or a memory.
But it wasn't his.
---
The walls around him were made of black stone, smooth and cold to the touch. Red lines ran through them like veins, pulsing slowly—alive, as if the entire place was breathing.
He took a step.
The air grew heavier.
Another step.
His heart began to beat faster… not from fear—but from something he didn't understand. Something deep inside was beginning to stir.
---
> "Where am I?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
No one answered.
But the walls listened.
---
Ahead, the narrow corridor slowly widened into a round chamber.
The floor was made of clear glass.
Beneath it: endless darkness.
Shifting.
Moving.
Alive.
And at the very center stood an ancient altar, covered in cracks, wrapped in old vines of silver.
Behind the altar was a massive stone wall—one that reached high into the dark ceiling.
It was carved with shifting images—like shadows caught in motion.
---
Yor's feet moved on their own.
He stepped toward the altar, eyes locked on the wall behind it.
The images were strange.
A battlefield of fire.
Men with glowing weapons.
Beasts roaring toward the heavens.
A burning sky.
And—at the center of it all—stood a man with golden eyes.
---
Yor stopped breathing for a moment.
His chest tightened.
That man…
He looked just like him.
---
Suddenly, the altar lit up.
Symbols appeared in a circle around Yor's feet—glowing softly, like embers from a dying flame.
And then…
The voice returned.
But it was not like before.
This voice was old.
Deep.
Slow.
As if it came from the roots of the world.
---
> "You carry the blood of the First King."
Yor froze.
The words hit him like thunder.
> "What… what does that mean?"
The voice did not answer.
But the ground beneath the glass rippled.
A vision rose before him.
---
He saw a mountain covered in endless snow.
A woman holding a baby close, whispering to him.
Her face hidden in shadows.
Behind her, a tall man stood still.
Golden eyes glowing faintly.
He looked down at the baby—and whispered something.
> "You must live… even if I don't."
Then—
A flash of red.
A roar.
And blood.
So much blood.
The man turned, raised a burning spear—and disappeared into the flames.
---
Yor fell to one knee, gasping for breath.
His heart pounded in his ears.
> "That man… who is he? Why does he look like me?"
His body shook.
Not from fear.
But from the weight of what he didn't know.
---
> "First King…? Is that him?" Yor muttered. "Is he realed to me ?"
The altar cracked.
Dust fell from its edges.
And then—a part of the wall behind it slid open, revealing a hidden path.
Dark.
Deep.
Calling him.
---
From the shadows, a figure appeared.
Cloaked in robes darker than night. Hood hiding its face. Its presence was heavy—like a mountain had just stepped into the room.
Yor didn't move.
Neither did the figure.
For a long time, silence ruled the space.
Then the figure raised a hand.
And Yor's body locked in place.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
Couldn't even blink.
---
Around him, strange symbols began to float in the air.
They spun faster.
And faster.
Until they all rushed into his chest—straight into his heart.
Yor screamed.
Not in pain.
But in confusion.
---
He saw visions again.
More broken pieces of a life that didn't belong to him.
A war between gods and beasts.
A throne made of bones.
A woman crying beneath a silver moon.
A child being carried into the snow.
And always—the man with golden eyes, watching it all in silence.
---
The vision ended.
Yor collapsed.
He lay there, staring at the glass floor beneath him.
His reflection stared back.
But… there were two reflections.
One was him.
The other—
Older.
Stronger.
And burning with golden fire in its eyes.
---
The robed figure finally spoke.
Its voice was not loud—but it echoed inside Yor's bones.
> "You are not ready…"
"But the blood remembers."
"And it will awaken—when the time is right."
The figure turned and walked into the dark path behind the altar.
It did not look back.
The door stayed open.
---
Yor slowly stood.
His hands were trembling.
Not from weakness—but from the storm inside his heart.
> "The blood of the First King…?"
"What kind of life did he live…?"
"And why was it hidden from me?"
He looked down at the glass again.
The second reflection had vanished.
Only his own face remained now.
But even that felt unfamiliar.
---
> "I don't know who I really am," he said softly, "but I'll find out."
> "Even if the truth burns me alive."
He took one step forward into the darkness.
And the altar behind him crumbled into dust.
---
Far away… deep within a ruined temple buried under the earth…
A man opened his eyes.
They glowed with soft golden light.
> "So… the child has begun to see."
He stood slowly.
Looked toward the sky.
> "Let the world prepare."
> "The blood of the First King… flows again."
---