Creed's entire body tensed as the words echoed through the vast chamber, each syllable digging into his very bones like a command written into his soul.
"Child of Killing."
His breath hitched.
What the hell did that even mean?
His mind spun, thoughts colliding like crashing waves. He was no "child of killing."
Sure, he had fought, survived, and made some brutal choices—but that didn't make him some title-bearing executioner.
Right?
But then, his eyes drifted down to the stone still clutched in his hand.
The Fragment of Killing. His fingers tightened around it.
Was that why?
Had this fragment, this strange rock that had reached out to him from within the crimson magma, recognized something in him?
Or… had it changed him?
His chest rose and fell rapidly as his thoughts spiraled. He had almost instinctively chosen to absorb it, as if it was the natural thing to do, but now...
Now he hesitated.
His system notification was still there, waiting.
