Darkness—

  And his willingness to walk into it.

  He had never intended to tread a path of darkness, and yet here he was.

  Pitch black. He stood somewhere within the Eternal Glacier, where sight meant nothing. The void swallowed everything. A silence so complete it pressed against his ears.

  He moved. Every motion was slow, deliberate—each footfall a gamble in the unseen depths ahead.

  The sheer absence of light reminded him of the radiance he had witnessed just before stepping inside—the brilliance of it seared in his memory. A stark contrast—one moment bathed in radiance, the next swallowed by abyssal black; it almost felt cruel.

  But this darkness was merely a physical manifestation—a simple lack of illumination. It was nothing compared to the deeper, more insidious darkness he had carried within him for years—the one that had eroded him, piece by piece, killing him over and over again.

  What an irony, he mused. How simple it had been to walk in the light, only to be thrust into absolute obscurity. The irony lay in the abrupt shift to his own situation—how easily he had taken light for granted, only to be confronted with its complete absence.

  He had never considered such things before, but his journey had changed him. He was beginning to see the world differently—to understand it in ways he never had.

  Yet, he knew this darkness would not consume him. Not anymore. He would not allow it. If what lay ahead was shrouded, he would carve his own path through it.

  He no longer feared the darkness. He understood it now. And understanding brought power.

  He had sought to conserve his mana—his very essence, the fuel for his light. Such greed, such hesitation. His caution had become a trap—saving power at the cost of sight, risking the very future he had aimed to protect.

  That was the only reason he had been walking in complete blindness, but—

  He summoned his light, and the space flared alive. It wasn’t blinding, but enough. The glow enveloped him like a shield, pushing the blackness away.

  A simple thing.

  The eternal glacier was vast. Unforgiving. But he was not lost.

  The constant tremors and approaching sounds were guiding him.

  All he had to do was keep moving, no matter what.

  As David drew closer to the source of the sounds, then without warning, the system’s interface flared into existence before him, halting him in his tracks.

  ? ? ? AZUREFROST SHARD DETECTED NEARBY ? ? ?

  David blinked.

  "A shard... here?" His pulse quickened.

  ? ? ? PROTECT AND OBTAIN THE SHARD ? ? ?

  A smirk tugged at his lips. "So I finally found one without even looking. See? Wasn’t that hard." He exhaled, letting the words ease his nerves. But his mind raced.

  What even was a shard? The system kept mentioning them, but it never offered any real explanation. He had theories—fragments of power, remnants of something greater—but nothing solid. And now he was being told to protect it.

  He dismissed the window and pressed forward.

  The darkness around him shifted—not because it had weakened, but because he had kept moving forward until the passage eventually opened before him.

  The ice ahead was glowing—a strange, unnatural radiance pulsing through the glacier.

  And then—

  He saw them.

  The ground stretched before him, a frozen graveyard of the defeated. The Riftwalkers lay scattered, motionless. Everyone was unconscious. Blood stained the ice, steaming in the frigid air.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Only one remained standing.

  The captain.

  He was on one knee, his body trembling, his breath ragged. His blade—once gleaming with power—was now cracked, its glow dim. He raised his head, his eyes dull yet defiant.

  And standing opposite him—the ones responsible.

  One was a towering figure clad in armor, veins of molten energy coursing through his body. His bald head gleamed under the icy glow, deep scars etched across his skin. There was no need for theatrics; his very presence exuded raw, unshaken power. Azrikal.

  The second stood poised, elegant in his lethality. Silver hair, piercing eyes that glowed with an unnatural light—Zephiron. His posture was relaxed, carrying the air of one who decided when the fight would begin and when it would end.

  David’s stomach twisted. Who were they?

  Azrikal tilted his head, regarding him with amusement. “Another lamb stumbles into the slaughter. How convenient.”

  Zephiron exhaled, mist curling from his ethereal form as he observed David in silence. His glowing eyes narrowed, calculating.

  Azrikal turned slightly, addressing Zephiron with a tone that almost carried reverence. “Master, shall I remove this distraction?”

  Zephiron didn't respond immediately. His piercing gaze remained fixed on David, studying him like a specimen under a frozen blade.

  David tensed. They didn’t seem to know who he was—but they knew he was here. That was enough to set every nerve on edge.

  Before he could react, the system window flashed once more—this time urgent, insistent.

  ? ? ? HOSTILE ENTITIES DETECTED ? ? ?

  ? ? ? WARNING: POWER LEVELS EXCEED CURRENT CAPABILITIES ? ? ?

  ? ? ? OBJECTIVE UPDATED: SURVIVE ? ? ?

  David clenched his fists. Survive? That’s all you’ve got for me?

  "I knew that guy didn't die from the fall," the captain thought to himself, unable to stand or say anything. "But here he is again at death's door."

  "Though, how unfortunate," he thought.

  The captain tried to stand, his body swaying. "R-run..." he rasped, but the words barely left his lips before Azrikal moved.

  Too fast.

  In the blink of an eye, the armored figure was in front of him, gripping the captain’s throat with a single hand.

  “Your fight is over.”

  With a single motion, he slammed the captain into the ground. The ice shattered beneath him.

  David instinctively took a step back. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to flee, to turn and run—but something inside him rebelled.

  No.

  Not this time.

  David forced himself to breathe. His gaze drifted from the captain’s unconscious body to the figure standing before him.

  Zephiron.

  A soft, mesmerizing light pulsed between his fingers—a delicate, ethereal glow, shifting like liquid moonlight.

  Was that the shard? David was observing.

  His entire focus locked onto it. He didn’t speak. Didn’t act. His every instinct screamed at him to move, to lunge, to snatch it away. But he stayed still.

  That single hesitation did not go unnoticed.

  A mistake.

  Zephiron's icy gaze lingered on him, his posture poised yet unreadable. He was the first to speak, his voice smooth yet edged with suspicion. “I assume you are with them.”

  David hesitated before offering a measured response. “Just lost my way.”

  "You don’t seem lost," Zephiron replied smoothly. "Nor do you seem afraid."

  David exhaled, keeping his voice level. "Should I be?"

  Zephiron chuckled. "That depends on your intent. And your knowledge." His fingers shifted slightly, letting the shard’s light flicker. "Tell me… do you know what this is?"

  David barely kept his eyes from straying to the light. "A glowing rock?"

  Zephiron smirked, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. "A rock." He let the word linger, tilting his head. "Curious. Most men, when seeing such a thing, ask what it does. Yet you don’t. Why is that?"

  David shrugged. "You’re glowing. I assumed you were just dramatic."

  "And besides, it caught my eye. It glows. Hard not to look at something like that."

  For the first time, Zephiron smiled—a small, cold thing that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Clever. But not clever enough."

  He took another step forward, the temperature around him dropping. "You hesitate. Your focus lingers. A man without knowledge—someone oblivious to the shard—would not look at it the way you just did."

  David clenched his fists. He needed to throw him off. "And yet, you’re the one watching me so closely. Maybe you’re the one who’s unsure."

  Zephiron’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes. A silent shift.

  “A clever guess… or a poor deception.”

  David tensed, though he masked it well. He met Zephiron’s gaze directly, refusing to shrink beneath it. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I have no idea what that thing is.” And technically, he wasn’t lying.

  Zephiron tilted his head, his gaze drifting briefly to Azrikal. “A lie, spoken well.” His gaze returned to David. “But not well enough.”

  David’s heart pounded, but his face remained neutral. “Believe what you want,” he said evenly. “I’m just trying to survive.”

  “Survival.” Zephiron’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping just enough to send a chill down David’s spine. “A reasonable instinct. But instincts can be manipulated.”

  David forced a smirk. “You’ve got a habit of reading too much into things.”

  "Perhaps," Zephiron admitted. "But I rarely make mistakes."

  David held his ground. "Then you already have your answer, don’t you?"

  Zephiron studied him for another moment before exhaling softly, mist curling from his lips. "For now," he murmured, his tone unreadable. He turned slightly, his fingers tightening around the shard. "But we’ll see, won’t we?"

  David forced himself to nod, though his mind raced.

  He hadn’t given himself away. But Zephiron wasn’t convinced either.

  Azrikal stepped forward, his voice calm but with a hint of urgency. "Master, let me handle this. I’ll get to the bottom of it."

  Zephiron barely looked up. "Do what you must, Azrikal. My intellect has never betrayed me."

  With that, David clenched his fists, preparing for whatever nightmare was about to begin.