Author's Note
Before anything else, I want to thank you for choosing to read my book. That means a lot to me, and I hope the story manages to touch you in some way. But I need to be honest: you might find some mistakes in the English translation. I sincerely apologize for that, in case something doesn't sound natural or causes any confusion.
Portuguese is my first language, and English... well, let's say it's not my strong suit. I'm not very proficient or fluent in it, and that limited me quite a bit. To bring this story to you, I used artificial intelligence to help with the translation. It was the best resource I had at hand, but I know it's not perfect and some slips might have gotten through.
Writing this book in Portuguese was something I did with a lot of care and dedication. I wanted to share this journey with readers in other languages, and the English translation was my attempt to make that happen. Even if the result has its flaws, my wish is that the spirit of the story still reaches you.
So, I ask for a bit of patience and understanding. If you can look past the possible mistakes, I hope you find something special in the pages I wrote. Thank you for being here and for giving my voice a chance!
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That piercing shriek jolted me awake, slicing through the stillness like a dagger through silk. It wasn't just some random noise—it pulsed with a stubborn, living energy, hell-bent on dragging me out of a sleep I didn't even know I'd fallen into. Guess I was more exhausted than I'd let on. When I cracked my eyes open, a thick, damp darkness greeted me, heavy as a velvet shroud draped over the world, snuffing out any flicker of light or life.
The first breath hit hard, like a fist to the chest. The air rushed in, thick with the sour reek of rot and time, scratching my throat raw as if it wanted to carve its story into me. It stank of sharp mold and wet earth, with this strange, misplaced hint of sweetness—like jasmine gone wrong in a place this grim. My tongue caught a bitter, metallic tang, like I'd licked an old blade left to rust. It was a nasty little nudge that I wasn't alone here—something ancient and unyielding was sharing this space, and it wasn't thrilled about company.
The cold gnawed at my skin. Under my hands, the ground was rough and un forgiving, coated in dust so fine it felt like it held the weight of forgotten centuries. I shifted my fingers, and it crumbled, clinging to me like it had a mind of its own, tugging me toward the same abyss that had swallowed who-knows-how-many souls before me.
"Does this stuff remember the people who walked here?" I caught myself wondering, half-curious, half-creeped out.
I dragged myself up, muscles groaning like they'd rather stay down. The room spun a little, as if the space itself was messing with me. This wasn't just darkness—it had a presence, a weight, whispering secrets the earth had buried long ago. Something lingered here, too old for words, too vast for me to wrap my head around. I knew where I was: a tomb. But not some run-of-the-mill grave—this place felt unmoored from time, a lost pocket where even the ticking of clocks had given up.
Then, out of nowhere, everything shook. The edges of reality smeared, and a flood of images crashed into me—memories I didn't sign up for, bursting through doors in my mind I hadn't even known were there. These weren't just scraps; they were jagged shards of lives, clawing into me with all the subtlety of a tiger's swipe.
"These bits… they're from a life I'd rather forget, but they made me who I am," I thought, as flashes of betrayal, tough calls, and blood-soaked moments streaked by. Faces twisted in agony, whispers that never quite turned into screams—they spun together in a silence that roared louder than any shout.
No tears came, no panic either. The shock settled in quiet, like I'd already made my peace with this ghost of a past sticking to me like a shadow I couldn't shake. I sucked in a breath, the air so dense it felt solid, while the darkness swayed, ready to yank me back into that spiral of memory.
That's when I saw it.
A glowing screen flickered out of the void, its pale blue light cutting through the murk like a lantern on a stormy night. The words on it were cold, sharp, like they'd been scratched out by some lonely machine in a dead room.
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Ding!
Achievement detected: Remembered your past life.
Reward: Supreme Upgrade Ticket.
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I froze, staring at it, trying to figure out what in the hells I was looking at. Was this a dream? A trick? Or had I stumbled into some warped corner of reality? The screen didn't blink out—it kept going, tossing out more words like it was daring me to play along.
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Ding!
Achievement detected: Relived and faced your past demons.
Reward: Supreme Innate Embryo.
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That light didn't just brighten the place—it shifted everything. The rough stone walls lit up, revealing carvings that seemed to hum with life, like some ancient rite caught mid-breath. But even with all that, the air still stank of death and dust.
A scratchy laugh slipped out of me, sharp enough to crack the silence. "Past demons?" I muttered, a smirk tugging at my lips while something hollow gnawed at my chest. If only they were impressive enough to deserve the title, I thought, letting the sarcasm mask the ache.
Still, I couldn't brush it off. "Supreme Upgrade Ticket? Supreme Innate Embryo?" It sounded like nonsense from some old storyteller's tale, but the chill sinking into my bones said it was real—real as the air I was breathing.
I hauled myself straight, every move heavy, like I was lugging a mountain. Those memories clawed at me, begging me to sink back down, but I shoved them off. No time for wallowing.
"Explain these rewards," I rasped, voice rough and shaky, half-expecting the quiet to swallow it whole.
A faint chime rang out, like a temple bell lost in the distance. The screen answered, clear and cutting:
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[Supreme Upgrade Ticket]
A relic promising limitless power. It can boost anything—your strength, your spirit, even weird stuff like luck or how you see the world.
—Limitations:
Can't touch what's already perfect.
Can't mess with anything beyond the Supreme—like your soul or forces too big to name.
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I quirked an eyebrow. Not shocked, just catching the catch—nothing this good comes without strings.
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[Supreme Innate Embryo]
A sword-seed, born when the omniverse blinked into being. Not just a blade—it's alive, picks its master, fuses with them like they're one.
—Note:
Its strength hinges on who wields it. The sharpest edge in existence is useless in weak hands.
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I let the words sink in, my eyes drifting to the walls. I'd clocked them before, but now they pulled me in. The carvings were alive—monsters with blazing eyes, winged figures dancing between light and dark, giants hefting whole realms on their shoulders. Every line popped with a wild energy that sent a shiver racing down my spine.
They were too perfect, too eerie. Each stroke felt like it was trying to tell me something I couldn't quite grab.
"Is this a tale no one's left to tell, or a warning nobody listened to?" I wondered, the puzzle thickening by the second.
My gaze slid along the etchings until something yanked my attention to the room's heart. Three huge statues loomed there, and in front of them floated three orbs of light, steady and patient, like they'd been waiting for me all along.
The first, off to the left, burned a deep crimson—like blood fresh from the vein—throwing off heat that hit me like embers spitting from a fire.
The second, on the right, glowed icy blue, so cold and calm it numbed everything—a winter night's hush swallowing the world.
The third, dead center, blazed gold—not cozy, but heavy, like it was sizing me up, ready to pass judgment on what I was worth.
I stood there, pinned by those lights, their differences wrapping around me like a net. Time slipped away—minutes, hours, who knows?—because what gripped me was the unease they kicked up.
"What are these things trying to say?" I thought, chest tight with something I couldn't pin down. They watched me, weighed me, judged me.
I swallowed, stepping forward slow, cautious. The orbs flickered like they were answering, and I felt eyes on me—not just theirs, but the statues', guarding secrets this place had locked away.
The air buzzed, thick with the feeling that something massive was close. This shadowed hole could either hoist me up to the heavens or drop me into a bottomless pit.
Everything went quiet, sound eaten up before it could start. Then a voice cut through, sharp as a sword's edge:
"They are beautiful, aren't they?"
The words hung there, simple but heavy, like the tomb itself was daring me to find something worth a damn in all this misery. Harmony in chaos? Good luck with that.
"Who talks about beauty in a place where time and pain are the same damn thing?" I asked myself, pulse hammering as the mystery unfolded.
The voice floated out of the shadows, laced with a bitter twist, pushing me to see that even in wreckage, something gorgeous was clawing its way up.
Then it clicked: this wasn't just a grave. It was a crossroads, where past and present smashed together. Every carving, every light—they were handing me a choice: salvation or ruin. The Ticket, the Embryo—they weren't trinkets; they were keys to doors I'd never even dreamed of knocking on.
I let the thick air settle into me as the voice echoed again, a nudge that beauty hides in the ugliest corners:
"They are beautiful, aren't they?"
It stuck with me, poking at me to admit that even in the mess of fear and doubt, life could throw out something raw and stunning, lighting a path I wasn't brave enough to see yet.
With every breath, every thud of my heart, it started sinking in: pain and beauty are flip sides of the same coin. Facing them takes guts, and maybe that's the whole game. Staring at those glowing orbs, the screen with its weird prizes, the walls scratched with old truths, I leaned into the challenge this place was throwing down.
"Maybe if I face these ghosts and figure out these rewards, I'll find the redemption—or the wreck—that's got my name on it," I thought, voice in my head wobbling between hope and a cold sweat.
In the tomb's dead silence, where shadows carried the echoes of the gone, I got it: the road ahead was mine to walk. Every mark, light, and word on that screen was calling me to turn yesterday's weight into tomorrow's muscle.
So, in the gloom, lit by the faint shine of those achievements, I took a step into whatever was coming—knowing beauty, tangled up in pain and riddles, was the spark that could set everything ablaze again.
"They are beautiful, aren't they?" the voice whispered one last time, blending into the quiet, flipping the page on my story.
My heart beat in time with that dare, and I grabbed hold of the secrets and power stashed in this forgotten nook, ready for every choice to rewrite who I was.
But then something felt off. I held still, that nagging echo bouncing around, throwing the lifeless vibe of this place out of whack. The air tightened, and in a snap, my senses sharpened, picking up details I'd missed.
I turned slow, braced for trouble. But what I saw wasn't a ghost or some nightmare beast—it was weirder: a ring.
Hovering there, defying gravity and good sense alike, it didn't look like much at first—just a small, almost laughable thing. But the closer I got, the more it unraveled its secrets. The metal was black as a starless night, pulsing with a life I couldn't pin down, while dragons carved into it twisted and coiled under the faint, ghostly light playing across its surface. Ancient symbols ringed it, murmuring half-formed words, too shy to speak outright. This wasn't some dusty heirloom; it radiated something older than time, a forgotten shard of power the world had turned its back on.
"Weren't you scared?" a voice cut in, sharp with a hint of annoyance.
I blinked slow, deliberate, my face locked in a calm I'd perfected over years of staring down worse. "Who are you?" I shot back, my voice clipped, no room for games or cryptic nonsense. I wasn't in the mood for riddles floating around like lost spirits.
The ring spun lazily, like it was enjoying my indifference. "A treasure beyond measure," it said, pride seeping through every word like it was preening in a mirror. "Keeper of this forsaken place."
I crossed my arms, eyeing it coolly. The symbols flickered under my gaze, almost squirming. "Looks like a fancy bauble to me," I said, letting a chill creep into my tone. "Maybe a wedding band for someone with bad taste. Got anything useful to offer, or is glittering all you're good for?"
It froze for a split second, like I'd jabbed it where it hurt. Then it spun faster, clearly riled. "You're insufferable," it snapped, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling up. "I'm a relic from the dawn of everything, guardian of secrets and power you couldn't dream of!"
I didn't bite. The ring's big speech echoed off the tomb's walls, hanging there unanswered. It twitched, its light pulsing like it couldn't stand the silence. "Aren't you going to ask more?" it pressed, sounding genuinely thrown.
"I've heard wilder stories," I said, flat as the stone under my feet. Then, with a flick of impatience, "If you're so grand, why're you stuck here, rotting away?"
For a moment, it faltered. The glow dimmed, almost winking out, like I'd hit a raw nerve. "I chose this," it insisted, but the strength had bled out of its voice, leaving a cracked edge I couldn't ignore—a whisper of regret.
I tilted my head, taking my time. "A watchman left to babysit dust," I said, letting scorn tangle with a touch of pity. "Sounds miserable."
In a flash, the ring flared, rage licking at its edges. "Watch your mouth, mortal," it warned, voice dropping low and dangerous. "You've no idea who you're talking to."
"You keep saying you're priceless," I countered, steady as ever. "All I've heard is hot air. Show me something worth my time."
The air thickened, pressing in like the tomb itself was holding its breath. The ring rose to meet my eyes, its presence swelling until the shadows skittered back. "You're maddeningly cold," it said, grave now, with a spark of curiosity. "But maybe that's exactly what I've been waiting for."
"Waiting for what?" I asked, keeping my tone even, just feeding the conversation along.
It turned slowly, like it was mulling over its next move. "That's for you to figure out," it said, the metal gleaming as symbols peeled off, orbiting it like wayward stars. "But first… let's see if you're worth the next step."
The tomb shuddered, shadows splitting apart to reveal something I couldn't have dreamed up. "Hold on—what'd you say? Married? What's that supposed to mean?" the ring sputtered, caught between confusion and a mocking laugh.
I let out a slow breath, like even keeping this chat going was a chore. "Explain the glowing orbs," I said, cutting through the haze with a voice sharp as a blade.
The ring paused, spinning gently, teetering between its usual swagger and my no-nonsense push. "Fine," it said, its light flickering like it wasn't sure where to land. "Since you hate fluff, I'll keep it short."
It didn't have eyes, but I swear it was sizing me up, the air buzzing with something heavy. "Those orbs," it said at last, voice thick with meaning, "are gifts from three Chaos Sovereigns."
"What are these Chaos Sovereigns?" I asked, skepticism threading through a faint flicker of interest.
It chuckled, dry and grating. "You wouldn't get it. They're beyond you—beyond anyone like you, no matter how… odd you are," it said, dripping with smugness.
I crossed my arms tighter, staring it down. "Why should I care?"
Its voice softened, almost hypnotic. "Because you're the first to stumble into this hole. Fate's got its claws in you. More than that, you didn't flinch at the Supremes' aura. That makes you worthy to take what they left behind."
I smirked faintly. Nothing's ever free. "What's the catch?" I asked, unshaken, knowing power always comes with a yoke.
The ring twirled, pleased with itself. "Of course there's a price," it said, irony lacing its words. "You honor them as masters, carry their mark into the world. Prove it with what you do."
I glanced at the orbs. Their light pulsed like they had a heartbeat, watching me, weighing me. They promised something bigger than strength—a road stretching out, quiet and inevitable, waiting for me to step onto it.
"Let's say I play along," I said, letting a hint of doubt color my voice. "How do I claim this so-called legacy?"
The ring's tone turned dead serious. "Simple. Sit. Clear your head. Let the orbs sink into you—they'll hand over their knowledge. But heads-up: each one's got its own trick, and you can only take one at a time."
"What's to stop this from killing me?" I asked, voice cold as someone who's danced with death too often to blink at it.
It laughed, a slow rumble bouncing off the walls. "You've made it this far, haven't you? What's left to lose?"
The silence stretched, heavy and solid. Then its voice slunk back, tempting and bold: "Step up, mortal. Or are you fine just watching life pass you by?"
The challenge hung there, sharp and waiting. I flicked my eyes to the orbs again—they throbbed, calling me without words. Everything zeroed in on that moment, that choice.
My life's been a string of bets, each one colder than the last. This was no different. "Let's do it," I said, steel settling in my gut.
I sank to the floor, the stone's chill biting into me. Eyes shut, I let the world fade. The air thickened, swirling around me as the orbs danced, ancient lights moving to some unseen rhythm. Their power coiled tight, wrapping me up like a snake.
In that loaded quiet, the Chaos Sovereigns' legacy hovered just out of reach, its real price crouching in the dark, patient as death. The cold stone anchored me while the orbs' heat burned through, and I let the tomb's stillness mark the start of something new. Here, guts and power would twist together, turning me from some nobody clutching relics into someone who could bend fate itself.
"Welcome to your rebirth," the ring muttered, half-taunt, half-promise, as the shadows peeled back to show the road ahead.
My pulse thrummed with this new life, and I got it—every breath from here on out would prove that even in the deepest pit, a spark, however faint, always hangs on.