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The Guardian's Swansong

In the heart of the Tower lies a tale yet untold—a story whispered through the ages by those who dare remember. It is the legacy of the forgotten, the song of the forsaken, a reminder of what was lost and what is yet to come. The Guardian's Swansong is but a single verse in the endless melody of the Tower. And as the story unfolds, beware of the shadows—they may hold the answers you seek… or the end you fear.

Z3_R0 · Kỳ huyễn
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47 Chs

Echoes of the Unknown

Kael moved swiftly, his eyes darting to every shadow as he put as much distance as he could between himself and the battle. His heart still raced from the encounter—he could feel it thumping in his chest, blood pounding in his ears. The sensation was unnerving, like his body was on high alert, reacting to every sound and movement, no matter how small. He couldn't stop hearing the growls and clashes from behind, even though he knew they were fading with every step.

"Just keep moving. Don't stop."

His arm throbbed where the beast had clawed him, a burning reminder of how close he had come to death. He winced, gritting his teeth as he glanced at the deep gash that ran along his forearm. The blood had slowed to a trickle, but the wound still looked nasty. Kael cursed under his breath.

Finding some semblance of safety, he ducked behind a large, moss-covered boulder and leaned against it, breathing heavily. The trees around him towered like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches swaying gently in the breeze, but there was no sign of immediate danger. No sign of the beasts that had plagued him since entering this cursed place. Not yet, anyway.

He needed to deal with his arm.

Kael winced as he knelt, pulling a rough piece of cloth from the bottom of his pants. With no other options, he tore the fabric into strips and began wrapping it around the wound as tightly as he could. His movements were jerky, and every pull of the makeshift bandage sent a sharp wave of pain through his arm. But he pressed on, gritting his teeth. The last thing he needed was for the wound to fester—or worse, to bleed out.

The cloth soaked up the remaining blood, and after a few minutes, the makeshift bandage was in place. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now. Kael sat back, trying to catch his breath.

"Just what the hell is this place?"

His thoughts drifted back to the Tower's announcement—You have earned a Boon through Battle—and he felt a surge of frustration. A boon. What was that supposed to mean? He had killed that beast, sure, but he didn't feel any different. There wasn't some magical wave of power that washed over him, no sudden sense of invincibility or strength.

And yet… the Tower had made it clear. He had gained something. He just didn't know what.

Kael clenched his fists, staring at the forest floor in frustration. He hated not knowing. The Tower, the trial, the strange power that seemed to linger within him—it was all a mystery, and it was driving him mad.

"Some help you are," he muttered bitterly, glaring at the trees as if the Tower itself was listening.

"You could at least explain what the hell a boon is."

He sighed, shaking his head. There was no point in getting angry. Not yet, anyway. He didn't have the luxury of time to figure it out, not here, not now. He had other priorities.

"The lake. I need water."

Kael stood, wiping the sweat from his brow and scanning the forest once more. It felt like the air was thick with tension, every shadow holding some hidden threat, but for now, he seemed to be alone. That was a small mercy, at least.

Taking a deep breath, he continued through the underbrush, moving cautiously but quickly. His goal was still the same—reach the lake, find shelter, and survive. That was all that mattered right now.

It took hours of painstaking movement, each step accompanied by the constant threat of something lurking nearby. More than once, Kael heard the unmistakable sound of claws scraping against bark or the low growl of something monstrous prowling the darkness. Each time, he ducked behind trees or into patches of dense foliage, holding his breath and praying that whatever was out there didn't notice him.

The beasts were everywhere—creatures with hulking forms, snarling jaws, and glowing eyes. None of them were the same as the pack he had encountered before. Each was different, a twisted amalgamation of nightmares brought to life by the Tower itself.

But somehow, Kael managed to avoid them. Whether by luck or instinct, he stayed just out of reach, his heart pounding in his chest with every close call.

Then, finally, as the trees began to thin and the mist lifted, he saw it—the lake.

Kael let out a sigh of relief as the shimmering surface of the water came into view, its edges glistening in the fading light. The sun—or whatever passed for it here—was already beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The sight of the lake filled him with a brief sense of victory, but that victory was quickly overshadowed by urgency.

It was getting dark again. And night, as he had already learned, was not kind.

"I need shelter."

Kael scanned the area around the lake, his eyes darting from tree to tree, searching for something—anything—that would provide safety for the night. He wasn't about to sleep on the ground, not with beasts lurking in every shadow.

His gaze landed on a towering tree at the lake's edge, its thick trunk and wide, sprawling branches providing a possible refuge. The tree looked ancient, its bark gnarled and twisted, but its branches were high enough off the ground that he might be safe from whatever roamed below.

It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

Kael knelt by the lake's edge, dipping his hands into the cool water. He cupped his palms, bringing the water to his mouth and drinking deeply. The water tasted clean, pure, and for the first time since entering this trial, Kael felt the slightest bit of relief. He took a few more sips before standing and turning his attention to the tree.

The climb wasn't easy. His arms ached from the strain, and his injured forearm throbbed with each pull, but Kael gritted his teeth and forced himself upward, branch by branch. His legs scraped against the rough bark, his fingers gripping tightly as he hauled himself higher and higher until he reached a thick branch wide enough to sit on.

Panting, he settled himself on the branch, leaning back against the trunk for support. The view of the lake from up here was almost peaceful, the water reflecting the fading light in shimmering patterns.

But Kael wasn't feeling peaceful.

His stomach growled, and despite his reluctance, he knew he needed to eat something. He pulled the wrapped meat from his pocket, grimacing at the sight and smell of it. The flesh of the demonic leopard was slick with an oily sheen, its texture tough and unappealing.

"Disgusting," Kael muttered, taking a reluctant bite.

The taste was as bad as he expected—bitter and foul, like biting into rotting leather—but he forced it down. He had no other choice. Survival was more important than taste.

After a few more bites, Kael tucked the remaining meat away and let out a long breath. His body still hummed with that strange energy, but there was something else now—something he could feel just beneath the surface. The Tower had spoken to him. He had earned a boon. But what that meant, he had no idea.

"Maybe I can figure it out."

Kael shifted on the branch, closing his eyes and focusing inward. The last time he had tried this, he had sensed the core inside him—a faint, swirling presence of energy. Now, he could feel it again, pulsing gently, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.

He focused on that energy, letting his awareness drift deeper, until he felt something new. There, inside his core, was a small space—something encased within the swirling energy, like a hidden pocket of reality. It was as though he could reach into it, his subconscious mind stretching toward the object hidden inside.

His fingers, though not physical, brushed against something solid. Something familiar, yet foreign.

Before he could think twice, something materialized in his lap with a soft thud.

Kael's eyes snapped open, and his breath caught in his throat.

A sword lay across his legs—a double-edged blade made of crude steel. The weapon was simple, its hilt wrapped in worn leather, but it was solid, real. And it had come from him, from that space within his core.

Kael stared at the sword, his mind reeling. He had summoned it—called it from that strange space inside himself. The Tower's boon.

For a long moment, Kael could do nothing but stare at the weapon in disbelief.

Then, with a slow, incredulous grin spreading across his face, he muttered

"Well, I'll be damned."

He picked up the sword, feeling the weight of it in his hand. It wasn't ornate or flashy, but it was his. And in a world like this, any weapon was a gift.

"Guess this Tower's not all bad," he said, chuckling softly to himself.

With that, Kael settled back against the tree, the sword resting on his lap, his thoughts racing with new possibilities.