Chapter 3: Shadows of the Past

The air was heavy with the smell of ash and decay as Eren made his way through the labyrinth of ruins. Every step felt like a journey into a forgotten past, the remnants of a world consumed by calamity. But for the first time, he wasn't just surviving—he was evolving. The essence of the Mid-Level Monster coursed through him, sharpening his senses and strengthening his body.

Yet, with each pulse of power, he could feel the grimoire's presence growing stronger, more insistent.

"You've tasted strength," it whispered, its voice curling around his thoughts. "But this is only the beginning. Power is infinite, Eren, if you have the will to take it."

Eren ignored the grimoire, focusing instead on the path ahead. The ruins were eerily quiet, but he knew better than to trust the stillness. Danger lurked in every shadow, and now, with the grimoire in his possession, he was a target.

As he climbed over a mound of rubble, a strange sight caught his attention. In the distance stood the remains of a once-grand structure, its towering spires broken but still defiant against the ravages of time.

"What is that place?" Eren asked aloud, his voice echoing in the emptiness.

"A relic of the old world," the grimoire replied. "Once a temple, now a grave. Its secrets may yet serve you."

Eren hesitated. The temple's ominous silhouette sent a shiver down his spine, but curiosity and the grimoire's urging pushed him forward.

---

The entrance to the temple was guarded by two colossal statues, their features worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. Despite their weathered appearance, there was something unsettling about them—the way their hollow eyes seemed to follow him as he passed.

Inside, the air was cold and damp, carrying the faint scent of moss and rot. The light from the outside barely penetrated the temple's interior, leaving much of it shrouded in darkness. Eren lit a small torch he had scavenged, its flickering flame casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.

The grimoire hummed against his chest, its presence a constant reminder of the pact he had made.

"This place is steeped in ancient power," it said. "But beware, Eren. Not all power is free for the taking."

The warning did little to calm his nerves. As he ventured deeper into the temple, he began to notice carvings on the walls—intricate depictions of battles, rituals, and what appeared to be monstrous beings locked in eternal combat.

"What is this?" he murmured, running his fingers over one of the carvings.

"A record of the past," the grimoire answered. "The world you knew was not the first to fall. These are echoes of an age when gods and demons walked the earth. Their conflict shattered the heavens and scarred the land. This temple is a remnant of that time, a monument to their folly."

Eren's hand lingered on the carving, his mind racing. The thought of gods and demons waging war seemed absurd, yet the grimoire spoke with such certainty.

Before he could dwell on it further, a low growl echoed through the chamber. Eren froze, his grip tightening on his torch as he scanned the shadows.

"Prepare yourself," the grimoire said, its tone sharp. "You are not alone."

From the darkness emerged a creature unlike anything Eren had encountered before. Its form was sleek and serpentine, its scales glinting like obsidian in the torchlight. Eyes like burning coals locked onto him, and its maw revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"A Shadow Serpent," the grimoire identified, its voice laced with excitement. "A rare breed, born of pure darkness. Its essence will be valuable."

Eren drew his blade, the weapon feeling woefully inadequate against the serpent's imposing presence.

"You won't survive with that scrap of metal," the grimoire said impatiently. "Call upon me. Let me guide you."

Eren hesitated. The memory of the Mid-Level Monster's essence still lingered, a stark reminder of the cost of using the grimoire's power. But as the serpent coiled, ready to strike, he knew he had no other choice.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's do this."

Dark tendrils erupted from his hands, their movements fluid and almost alive. The serpent lunged, its jaws snapping shut mere inches from Eren's face. He dodged, the tendrils lashing out and striking the creature's side.

The serpent hissed in pain, its movements becoming more erratic. Eren pressed the attack, the tendrils wrapping around the creature's body and pinning it to the ground.

"Take its essence," the grimoire urged. "Consume it and grow stronger."

Eren hesitated, his heart pounding. The serpent writhed beneath him, its glowing eyes filled with defiance.

"Do it!" the grimoire snarled. "Hesitation will kill you, Eren. Take its power, or it will take yours."

With a deep breath, Eren extended his hand. The tendrils plunged into the serpent's body, and its essence flowed into him. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of exhilaration and dread as the creature's power became his own.

When it was over, the serpent dissolved into shadow, leaving behind only a faint trace of its presence.

"You're beginning to understand," the grimoire said, its tone almost approving. "Power is the only currency in this world, Eren. And you are richer for having taken it."

Eren didn't respond. He could feel the serpent's essence coursing through him, strengthening him in ways he couldn't yet comprehend. But with the power came a gnawing hunger, a void that seemed to grow with every essence he consumed.

"What's happening to me?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

"You are becoming more than human," the grimoire replied. "Embrace it, Eren. The old world is gone, and with it, the constraints of your humanity. You are free to become whatever you wish."

Eren stared into the darkness, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. He had come to this temple seeking answers, but all he had found were more questions—and a growing sense of unease about the path he was on.

As he turned to leave, the carvings on the walls seemed to shimmer, their ancient scenes coming to life for a brief moment. Eren paused, his gaze lingering on a particular figure—a lone warrior standing against a horde of monstrous beings, a dark book clutched in his hands.

The image sent a chill down his spine.

"Who was he?" Eren asked, his voice barely audible.

"A fool," the grimoire replied. "One who thought he could control the power he wielded. Do not make the same mistake."

Eren tore his eyes away from the carving and stepped into the shadows, the temple's secrets weighing heavily on his mind.

The path ahead was clear, but the cost of walking it was becoming all too apparent.