Aarav knelt in the silence, his bloodied hands trembling. The dust of the Forsaken warrior drifted through the air, vanishing into nothing.
He had won.
But not with brute force.
The words of the Keeper still echoed in his head.
"He understands."
Aarav exhaled, steadying himself. His wounds ached, his body screamed for rest, but he forced himself to his feet. He wouldn't show weakness here.
Above him, the Keepers sat in their towering thrones, their presence as overwhelming as ever.
Then, the tallest of them—the one with golden eyes—rose from his seat.
"The Forsaken were once warriors who failed to uphold their purpose. They lost themselves to the Tournament's abyss. You were given the same path… yet you chose differently."
A pause.
"You did not break him. You freed him."
Aarav clenched his fists. He hadn't even realized it at the time. But he knew one thing for certain—that warrior had been more than just a mindless monster.
Another Keeper, cloaked in deep violet, leaned forward.
"That was your first trial. And now… you will take your first oath."
Aarav's body tensed. Oath?
The violet-cloaked Keeper raised a hand. A section of the chamber's stone floor shifted, groaning as it gave way.
A single pedestal rose from the depths.
Atop it lay a dagger.
Its blade was jet black, inscribed with glowing golden runes. The hilt was wrapped in something dark and ancient—a material that seemed almost alive.
Aarav's instincts screamed at him.
That dagger… wasn't normal.
The golden-eyed Keeper's voice rang through the chamber.
"A warrior who enters the Ashvattha Tournament is not just a fighter. He is bound by oath. By purpose."
The air grew heavier.
"Swear your first vow upon the blade, and the path forward shall open."
Aarav stepped toward the pedestal, his breath slow and controlled.
The dagger called to him, whispered to him, as if it had been waiting.
He reached out—and the moment his fingers brushed the hilt, the world around him shattered.
Blackness consumed his vision.
And then, he was no longer in the chamber.
Aarav's breath hitched as the world around him melted into darkness.
No walls. No floor. No sky. Only the abyss.
Then—a spark.
A faint ember flickered in the void, floating before him.
Aarav took a cautious step forward. The ember pulsed, and suddenly—he wasn't alone.
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Tall. Clad in ancient armor etched with symbols that seemed to shift like living things. A tattered cloak billowed behind him, untouched by wind. His face was hidden beneath a mask of gold and black, a crown of curved horns rising from his head.
Aarav's instincts screamed. This man was dangerous.
Yet, there was no malice in his presence. Only something immeasurable.
The figure spoke, his voice like a distant thunderclap.
"You stand before the First Oath."
Aarav swallowed, his grip tightening around the dagger.
"Who are you?"
The figure tilted his head slightly, considering. Then, he extended a gauntleted hand.
"I am one who came before. One who swore… and one who paid."
Aarav's mind flashed back to the Forsaken warrior. The ones who had failed.
Was this man the same?
The ember between them flared, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own.
"The First Oath is not taken. It is accepted."
The man raised his hand higher, and suddenly—Aarav felt it.
A weight.
An invisible force pressing into his chest, into his bones, into his very existence.
A vision slammed into him—
Flames consuming the battlefield. Blades clashing under a sky painted in blood. A warrior standing alone against the abyss… and falling.
The same whisper from before echoed in his mind.
"What will you sacrifice?"
Aarav gritted his teeth, his pulse hammering.
This wasn't just a ceremony.
This was a binding. A contract.
He steadied himself.
"I came here for one reason." His voice was firm. "To find my sister. To bring her back."
The ember pulsed again.
"And what will you give in return?"
Aarav exhaled slowly. The answer came without hesitation.
"Everything."
A pause.
Then—the figure laughed. A deep, knowing sound.
The ember flared—and suddenly, it wasn't an ember anymore.
It was a burning sigil, carving itself into Aarav's arm.
His vision blurred, pain lancing through his body like fire through his veins.
And then—
The darkness shattered.
---
The Chamber of the Keepers
Aarav's eyes snapped open.
He was back.
The dagger was still clutched in his hand, but something was different.
A mark now burned across his forearm—the same sigil he had seen in the abyss.
The golden-eyed Keeper nodded slowly.
"The Oath has been accepted."
Aarav's breath came heavy, but his gaze was steady.
Something inside him had changed.
The Tournament had truly begun.
Aarav's pulse still hammered in his ears. The mark on his forearm burned like a fresh brand.
He forced himself to stand, shoulders squared, ignoring the phantom pain that lingered from the vision.
Above him, the Keepers watched in silence.
Then, the golden-eyed Keeper spoke.
"The First Oath is accepted. Now, you bear its weight."
Aarav exhaled sharply. He had survived the trial—but what had he truly agreed to?
The violet-robed Keeper leaned forward.
"The Oath is not merely a promise. It is a binding force. It will grant you strength—but it will also demand its price."
Aarav's eyes flickered to the sigil now etched into his skin.
The weight of it was more than physical. It felt as though something unseen had latched onto his very being.
He clenched his fists. Whatever the cost was, he would face it.
The golden-eyed Keeper raised a hand, and the chamber trembled.
A second pedestal rose from the floor.
This time, it held not a weapon, but a scroll.
Aarav's brows furrowed.
"What is this?"
The Keeper's voice carried through the hall.
"Your first commandment. The law of your Oath."
Aarav stepped forward cautiously. He unrolled the scroll.
The letters were not written in any language he knew—but the moment his eyes settled on them, they burned into his mind, their meaning searing itself into his soul.
The words shifted, rearranging into something he could understand.
---
THE FIRST COMMANDMENT:
"One who bears the Oath shall not retreat."
---
Aarav's breath caught.
Not retreat?
The golden-eyed Keeper's gaze was unforgiving.
"The path you walk now is one of absolutes. A warrior who bears the Oath does not turn back. The moment you flee from battle—your life is forfeit."
Aarav's stomach twisted.
This wasn't just a vow of strength. It was a death sentence.
If he ever tried to run from a fight, the Oath would kill him.
Aarav gritted his teeth.
"You people really don't believe in making things easy, huh?"
The violet-robed Keeper chuckled. "Easy? No. Worthy? Perhaps."
Aarav exhaled, his fingers tightening around the scroll.
There was no turning back now.
He lifted his gaze, fire burning in his eyes.
"Then I'll make sure I never have to run."
For a moment, the chamber was silent.
Then, the golden-eyed Keeper smiled.
"We shall see."
Aarav's fingers clenched around the scroll. No retreat. No turning back.
A cold certainty settled in his bones. The Oath wasn't just a promise—it was a curse.
The Keepers observed him in silence. Waiting. Watching.
Then, the golden-eyed Keeper raised his hand. "It is done."
The chamber rumbled. The pedestal and the scroll vanished into the stone floor as if they had never been there.
Aarav exhaled slowly. His skin still burned where the sigil was etched, but something inside him felt… different.
He was bound to this now.
The violet-robed Keeper spoke next. "Your path is sealed. From this moment on, your battles will define you. Every step forward is your only option."
Aarav rolled his shoulders, forcing a smirk. "That's fine. Running was never my thing anyway."
A ripple of amusement passed through the Keepers. But none of them spoke.
Instead, the chamber doors groaned open behind him. A new path revealed itself.
At the threshold, two armored guards stepped forward, their helmets concealing their faces. Their presence was unmistakable—they were warriors of the Tournament.
One of them pointed ahead.
"Your next trial awaits."
Aarav turned toward the darkened corridor beyond the doors. Something pulsed within the depths.
The sigil on his arm burned again, almost as if it was calling him forward.
He took one last glance at the Keepers.
The golden-eyed one gave the slightest nod.
"Go forth, Oathbearer. Prove that you deserve the path you walk."
Aarav exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
No retreat. No hesitation. No fear.
With steady steps, he crossed the threshold and entered the unknown.
---