The Awakening

The sun sank low behind the jagged mountains, painting the sky in molten gold as Chen Yu wandered far beyond the worn village paths.

Why had he come here? He didn't know.

Maybe boredom.

Maybe that restless itch in his bones—the quiet pull toward something he couldn't name.

Maybe he was simply tired of waiting.

His thin frame moved easily through the underbrush, his sharp eyes glinting beneath messy black hair that clung stubbornly to his forehead. His pale skin, long untouched by sunlight, stood out against the deep green of the forest. There was something cold about him—distant, like the boy's soul had always been one step ahead, already chasing something no one else could see.

The forest thickened as he walked. The air grew colder, heavy beneath the shadows of towering pines whose ancient trunks swallowed the last light. Moss-covered stones lay scattered along the narrow trails, and thick roots coiled across the earth like sleeping beasts.

Most would have turned back. Chen Yu didn't.

As he pushed through a dense thicket, something caught his eye.

A path.

It wasn't on any hunting map. It wasn't one he'd ever walked.

Faint, half-buried beneath dead leaves and curling vines, yet undeniably there—a trail winding away from the familiar woods, twisting toward the cliffs.

His heart stirred.

Where does this lead?

Without hesitation, he followed.

The path climbed sharply, snaking between jagged rocks and thorny brambles, pulling him higher until it finally opened onto a stone platform—cracked, worn, and half-swallowed by time. It sat on the very edge of a sheer cliff, overlooking a sea of mist.

At its center, something strange rested:

A circular stone disk, ancient yet alive, its surface etched with intricate carvings that faintly glowed, pulsing like a heartbeat waiting to awaken.

Chen Yu stepped forward. Dust and vines fell away as his fingers traced the cold patterns.

Click.

The stone beneath him shifted.

Before he could even breathe, the carvings flared with a blinding light. Symbols erupted, spinning wildly around him. The ground vanished. Gravity seized him and dragged him into the abyss.

The light swallowed him whole.

When he landed, the forest was gone.

The sky was gone.

Everything was gone.

He now stood in the bowels of the earth, surrounded by crumbling stone pillars that clawed toward a cavern ceiling high above. Faint flames flickered in rusted lanterns, casting long shadows across ancient walls.

Chen Yu's pulse thundered. His breath came sharp, but his steps remained steady.

There was no fear in his eyes.

Only that same cold, quiet curiosity.

The air here was thick—alive, buzzing with an ancient force that made his skin prickle. It wasn't the forest's breeze. It wasn't the village's wind. It was the calm before a storm.

And then—a voice.

Deep. Steady. Neither warm nor cruel, but vast, as if it had existed for countless ages.

"You have entered the Trial of the Ten Legacies."

"Only one shall be granted now."

"The others will remain sealed, waiting for the day you are worthy to claim them."

A figure appeared before him—shimmering, half-formed, caught somewhere between man and machine. An ancient guardian, bound to this place, waiting for someone to awaken what had long been buried.

Chen Yu's fingers tightened into fists. His sharp eyes burned with quiet resolve.