A dull ache spread through Shawn's body as his consciousness stirred. His limbs felt like lead, his mind foggy from exhaustion. The last thing he remembered was the relentless battle against the golem, the overwhelming force of its strikes, the feeling of his body failing him. He had lost. Or at least, that was what he assumed.
A soft rustling sound reached his ears. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on a bed of smooth stone, the cavern around him illuminated by a faint, eerie glow. Before him, standing with arms crossed, was Jarvine. The old man watched him with an unreadable expression, but Shawn could see something behind those ancient eyes—amusement, perhaps, or the remnants of a test well conducted.
"You're awake," Jarvine stated, his voice carrying an odd gentleness. "Eat. You need strength."
Shawn's stomach twisted with hunger as he noticed a small plate placed beside him, filled with vibrant, unfamiliar fruits. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out. The first bite exploded with an odd mixture of sweet and tangy flavors, sending warmth through his tired muscles. Whatever these were, they worked instantly, filling his body with a refreshing energy.
As he ate, Jarvine sat down across from him. "You did not defeat the golem," he said plainly. "But victory is not always measured by destruction. You fought with resilience, adapting to an opponent stronger than you. That alone is worth something. And so, though you have failed to win, you have earned the right to inherit."
Shawn froze mid-bite. His heart pounded. "The right to inherit...?"
Jarvine gave a slow nod. "Come with me."
Without another word, the old man stood and began walking toward a distant archway at the end of the cavern. Shawn followed, his mind swirling with questions. His legs still ached, but a renewed sense of purpose drove him forward.
Beyond the archway was a narrow corridor, the walls shifting from rough stone to something smoother, polished, and strangely warm to the touch. Eventually, they reached an expansive chamber—empty, save for a pedestal at its center. Upon it rested a single book, its cover pulsing with faint silver light.
Jarvine turned to face Shawn. "This," he gestured toward the book, "is your inheritance. Or rather, the first part of it. To claim it, you must comprehend it."
Shawn took a step forward, staring at the book in confusion. "That's it? No weapons? No artifacts?"
Jarvine let out a chuckle. "A fool wields a blade without knowing how to strike. A king commands power only if he understands it. Your first task is knowledge. Read, learn, and endure. When you truly comprehend its contents, the first part of your inheritance will be yours."
Shawn hesitated before reaching out, his fingers grazing the book's surface. The moment he touched it, a rush of information flooded his mind—chaotic, wild, uncontrollable. He staggered back, clutching his head as the overwhelming sensation faded.
Jarvine merely smirked. "Good luck."
Then he was gone, leaving Shawn alone in the silent chamber.
The Trial of Sound
Days turned to weeks.
The book contained no ordinary text. There were no spells, no structured techniques, just a maddening explanation of sound—its existence, its nature, its manipulation. It spoke of vibrations, how sound was not merely noise but movement, frequency, and resonance woven into the very fabric of the world.
Shawn struggled. At first, he tried forcing it, attempting to channel his soul mana like he had done with air. But nothing happened. He tried forming sound waves, only to create weak whispers.
He brainstormed with Elaris, who, though amused by his predicament, provided little help beyond cryptic remarks.
"Sound is air, but air is not sound. You're thinking too simply, Shawn."
"Then what is it?!"
"A vibration, a presence, an echo. Sound is what is left behind after the world moves."
Her words rattled in his head, but understanding continued to elude him. The frustration built daily.
Then came the pain.
The book demanded that he resonate with sound itself, forcing him to experience the brutal reality of manipulating it. His body would vibrate unnaturally, his head would pound as if his skull was splitting. He would collapse, gasping for air as his spirit mana destabilized.
Yet he persisted.
Weeks became months. He began to hear beyond normal perception. Even without sight, he could sense movement, feeling the subtle shifts in air around him. Echolocation. It was weak at first, but it grew sharper. He could perceive outlines, then details, then textures.
One day, he absentmindedly struck his foot against the stone floor—and everything changed. The vibrations rippled out, revealing the entire room to him as if he had seen it.
Realization struck.
Sound wasn't just hearing—it was presence. It was the world responding to movement, resonating with the very nature of existence.
He began experimenting, refining his control. He learned to send out pulses, to map his surroundings in perfect clarity. It became more than just a skill—it became his sight.
The final test came when he stood before the book one last time, his hands outstretched. He reached into the depths of his spirit, sending out a silent wave of sound. The book pulsed in response, its silver light fading into him. Knowledge crystallized in his mind, no longer chaotic but clear, controlled.
He had mastered the first part of his inheritance.
With silent sound and perfect echolocation, Shawn took a deep breath. The first step was complete.
But the journey was far from over.
Finally, after almost a year, something changed.
A single moment of clarity struck him like a bolt of lightning. He reached out, testing his newfound understanding. A faint ripple in the air responded. He concentrated, focusing on the smallest shifts of sound.
Then, he heard it—everything.
Not through his ears, but through the vibrations in the air itself. He could sense movement, shapes, even the stillness of objects. It was more than vision—it was perception on a whole new level. He had done it. He had mastered the first part of the inheritance.
Shawn stood, a slow grin spreading across his face. His way of seeing was now a hundred times sharper, clearer than ever before. He tested his new ability, mapping out the entire room with the echoes he created, forming a perfect mental image.
He reached out to Elaris mentally. "This is insane... I can see without my eyes. This is just the first part? I can't even imagine what comes next."
Elaris responded with a pleased hum. "You have done well, Shawn. But do not grow complacent. You still have a long path ahead."
He chuckled. "Of course. But when I get out of here, I'll be a whole new person. This power... it's just the beginning."
Something else struck him then. He felt it deep within—his core saturation had reached its limit, and in a sudden rush, his energy surged. A breakthrough. He had stepped into the Artisan Beginning Stage.
Pain took over his body for a while, as a shout was heard all over the room. The process of breaking through came with a price, what was free in this world. Impurities, dark as tar, was removed from his body. Reeks of smell as terrible as a dead body was released into the atmosphere. For sure, even the insects and small rodents were killed by the heartbreaking smell.
After what felt an eternity of pain and horror, Shawn was ok. The pain disappeared as if it were not even present.
What made such a process painful was that during each breakthrough, the soul core grew in size, so as to accomodate the new profound power.
With an increase in rank, ones control over soul energy was vastly increased. One could last longer in battles and also one had an increase in their mastery over their vitral. The damage potency of the vitral was increased.
Shawn had now broken through to the Artisan's touch rank. And it was only roughly one and a half year since his arrival to this place. It was fast for him but he also knew that there were prodigies out there who reached this rank while they were only thirteen. Shawn was now 15 years old as he reached 15 while still in practice and comprehension of the inheritance.
Who said that the path to power was an easy road to treck on. One had to pay the price, but was it worth it. To some , it was not, but to Shawn, it was necessary.
He clenched his fists, barely able to contain his joy. Two major accomplishments in one moment. He had done it. He had truly surpassed his former self.
Outside the chamber, Jarvine watched through an unseen veil, a pleased smile creeping onto his face. "Perfect. His progress is beyond expectations. Everything is falling into place."
He turned and entered the room where Shawn stood. The moment Shawn saw him, he felt the air grow heavier, an ominous presence settling in.
Jarvine clapped his hands once. "Congratulations, Shawn. You have done well."
Shawn exhaled, steadying himself. "Thanks. It was hell, but I made it."
Jarvine's smile widened. "Yes... it is perfect. You are perfect. The perfect body for ascension."
Before Shawn could react, an invisible force crashed down on him. His knees buckled, and he was nailed to the floor, unable to move. Cold dread gripped his heart. Though he had a rough idea that this might happen, and had prepared for it, he realised that all preparation in front of power was meaningless.
Jarvine stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "Now then... allow me to take what is mine."
A dark mist seeped from his body, coiling toward Shawn. Before he could even scream, it entered his soul.
To be continued...