The Wounded and the Watchers

Night fell over the ravaged forest like a curtain of ash. The survivors that Andrew had joined huddled near a low fire, flames kept small to avoid drawing the attention of roaming beasts. Andrew sat apart, eyes fixed on the embers, listening to the whispers of the lingering spirits.

"Your path forks soon," said the voice of Lyari, the Starborn Ranger, echoing faintly in his mind. "The stronger your bond with us, the clearer your future."

Andrew nodded, though he said nothing aloud. Every moment brought new tension—between survival and secrecy, between the strategist and the unknown power rising within him. He had copied skills, absorbed remnants, and fought back death itself. But now came a new trial: leadership.

That night, the caravan faced its first true test.

A scream ripped through the camp.

Andrew sprang to his feet, unsheathing the rusted blade he had enchanted earlier using Spirit Echo. He darted toward the sound, finding a young scout on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, and standing over him—a hulking beast with antler-like horns and four glowing eyes.

**[Beast: Rift Howler – C-Rank]**

Andrew didn't hesitate.

"Scatter!" he shouted to the others. "Don't clump up!"

The beast roared and lunged. Andrew rolled to the side and activated **Starborn Vision**. Time seemed to slow. His pulse steadied.

He saw the trajectory, the perfect angle.

His blade flashed upward, slicing across the Howler's exposed underbelly. The creature snarled in pain, but it wasn't enough. It spun and slammed a claw into Andrew's chest, sending him crashing into a tree.

Pain exploded through him.

*Can't stop now. Breathe. Think.*

He coughed and rose, blood trailing down his chin. A memory of the Executioner revenant echoed in his mind—its movements, its power.

Andrew focused.

**[Skill Replica: Executioner's Edge – Temporary Boost to Reflexes and Critical Strikes (15 sec)]**

He rushed forward, blade flickering like shadow. This time, he didn't aim to kill. He aimed to *cripple*.

He slid under the beast, slicing through tendons in its leg. The Howler stumbled. Andrew pivoted, struck again—this time across its throat.

With a final wheeze, it collapsed.

Silence fell.

The caravan slowly emerged from hiding.

Andrew stood over the corpse, breathing heavily. "We need to move. They're testing us. There'll be more."

The people stared at him—now not just with suspicion, but awe.

He ignored it.

Instead, he turned to the wounded scout and knelt. "You'll live," he said, tearing his cloak to bind the bleeding.

"Who… who are you really?" the scout whispered.

Andrew smiled grimly. "Someone who was thrown away. Just like you."

—

By morning, they had reached the edge of the forest. In the distance stood a structure half-buried in the hillside—stone arches, moss-covered stairs, and a cracked sun emblem above the gate.

"An old shrine," someone said.

Andrew's eyes narrowed. No. This wasn't just a shrine.

It was another testing ground.

They entered cautiously.

Inside, the air shifted—heavy, cold. Arcane symbols glowed faintly on the walls. At the center of the chamber sat a statue of a woman in a hooded cloak, her hand outstretched toward a stone basin.

Andrew approached.

**[Do you wish to receive the Judgment of the Watchers?]**

The question floated in the air before him.

"Yes," Andrew said.

The basin ignited in blue flame. A voice filled the room—neither male nor female.

*"You carry stolen power. Echoes not earned but taken."*

"They were abandoned," Andrew replied. "I gave them purpose again."

*"Then face the mirror. Show us your truth."*

The flames surged. Andrew's reflection appeared in the basin—and shifted. He saw himself cloaked in shadow, crowned with thorns, leading armies of undead.

Another vision: himself seated on a throne, adored by mortals, distant and cold.

And another—his body broken in battle, Caroline crying over him.

He grit his teeth. "These are futures, not certainties."

*"They are echoes of what may be. Choose the path you forge."*

Andrew stepped back. The flames flickered and died.

In his hand was a shard of glowing crystal.

**[Artifact Obtained: Mirror Core – Grants once-per-day vision into an enemy's intent or future move.]**

He pocketed it.

Behind him, the caravan stood silently.

He turned. "We keep moving."

—

As the group emerged from the shrine, the sky darkened. In the far distance, across the valley, something stirred.

A pillar of black smoke.

And above it—a flickering red sigil etched into the clouds.

Andrew's breath caught. It was the mark he'd seen only once before.

In the summoning chamber.

*The priestess.*

She was still watching.

Still plotting.

And now, he was no longer alone. He had people to protect. Spirits to honor.

And a war to prepare for.

Andrew's eyes hardened.

"Let's build something that can't be thrown away."