The Pass of Lamentations

Kael walked in silence.

Before him, two sheer cliffs rose high—dark, oppressive. The wind blew through the narrow gorge but made no sound… except for faint sobs. As if the rocks themselves were weeping.

> The Pass of Lamentations.

A path few dared to cross. It was said each stone held a regret, a broken life, an echo of sorrow never silenced.

Kael advanced cautiously. The air here was colder, drier. The marsh was behind him, yet the unease remained. He felt watched.

Then he stopped.

A figure stood waiting between the cliffs.

An ageless man, clad in a gray cloak that floated like smoke. His eyes were a ghostly white, yet they pierced through flesh and thought alike. A presence as ancient as the pass itself.

> "You can go no further," the figure declared.

His voice didn't reach Kael's ears—rather, it vibrated inside his skull. A thought imposed. A command whispered into his bones.

Kael tightened his grip on his sword.

> "Who are you?" he asked.

The man slowly raised a pale hand. A spectral halberd formed in his grasp, made of gray light and forgotten memories.

> "Warden of the Rift. Echo of a forgotten oath.

I have watched over this place since the world lost its final guardian."

The ground trembled faintly beneath them.

> "You carry the Rift within you, Kael.

You are one of the fragments."

Kael didn't answer. He unsheathed his blade.

The battle began without warning.

Kael struck—but his blows passed through the specter like mist. In contrast, the Warden's attacks didn't touch his body… they pierced his soul. Each strike tore away a feeling, a memory, a certainty.

Kael screamed inside.

He dodged, rolled across the ground, and staggered back to his feet. Then he feinted a strike, jumped away—and ran.

Even though the Warden couldn't leave the pass, he raised his weapon and launched a barrage of spectral halberds from afar.

Kael ran, breath ragged, thinking he had escaped… until he looked back.

Hundreds of spectral halberds were slicing through the sky, all converging on him.

He froze. Ready to invoke a force he had long refused to use...

But he didn't have to.

Someone else intervened.

A figure leapt between him and the assault, sweeping the air with a single devastating motion—deflecting all the halberds.

A man.

Dark. Wild. Brimming with chaos.

He wore a torn black uniform with ragged crimson strips and floating chains. His arms, chest, and one eye were wrapped in bandages—wounds from countless battles. His blood-red katana looked decayed, corrupted from within. His black hair was wild, his eyes crimson and piercing like blades.

Kael stepped back instinctively.

> "Who are you? And… how did you even touch the Warden's halberds?" he asked.

The man gave a half-smile, almost amused.

> "Name's Kruel. Klux told me to follow you… and help you if things went south.

Honestly? Even I don't know how I managed to deflect those attacks."

Kael narrowed his eyes.

> "So… it was real."

The specter let out a deep laugh. Then, slowly… it bowed. A long, solemn gesture of respect.

Kael stood frozen.

> "Why is he bowing?" he asked, wary.

Kruel answered plainly:

> "Every territory you've crossed—and the ones ahead—

They were all created by our First Ancestor."

> "So… all of this… it's a trial?"

Kruel nodded.

Silence fell. The wind howled again through the chasm.

Kael spoke once more:

> "Are all your ancestors like this?"

Kruel gave a bitter smile.

> "You've seen nothing yet. What you're living through… is just a game.

A test. For you.

But the other realms, the true keys…

Those aren't for you.

They're for our bloodline."

Kael furrowed his brow.

> "So I'm just… a piece in a game?"

Kruel shrugged.

> "Maybe. But you're still alive.

Which means you still have a part to play."

The Pass began to tremble.

The cliffs slowly parted, revealing a new path.

> Next destination: The City of the Forgotten.

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