The statue towered over the broken square like a forgotten god. Draped in ivy and soot, it held no weapon—only a crown, cracked in two. Raen stood beneath it, a shard of silence in a kingdom of whispers.
They'd been navigating the underground since yesterday—narrow, suffocating tunnels laced beneath the kingdom like veins beneath dead skin. It had kept them alive, hidden from the ashwind above and the revenants that stalked its streets. Selene had gone hunting with her shadows, saying nothing more than, "Don't bleed while I'm gone."
He hadn't replied. He didn't trust her enough for jokes yet.
The air in the square was dry, salted with ancient stone. Raen tilted his head toward the statue again, eyes narrowed. It looked like it would be the Ashborn Prince.
Who were you supposed to be? A king, a martyr, or both?
Then, he opened the system.
> [Accessing Wager Parameters...]
[Wager: The Ashen Wager | Phase I – Ashes Of A Selfless King.]
The contender has entered the heart of the Ashborn Kingdom. The wager is not a test of strength, but succession.
Victory Condition: Seize the Throne of Ash or defeat its current claimant.
The Ashborn Prince is bound to the Throne. His power is rooted in memory, not motion.
Beware: The throne never sleeps, and its heirs are many.
Raen blinked, then stared hard at the interface as it faded.
"So... this is about succession. Not a war. A throne without motion but that doesn't make sense."
He muttered to himself, walking slowly around the statue's base. "If he's bound, then how does he act? Someone had to summon that revenant, or be it."
Which means he's not alone. He's moving through something else. A vessel, a shard, a clone?
The system didn't respond immediately. But then, another line appeared in jagged script.
> [System Alert – Passive Scan Triggered]
Status: You are being watched.
Raen froze.
No footsteps. No shadows. But someone's here.
He stepped back toward the tunnel entrance, eyes scanning the hollow buildings.
Then quietly, under his breath: "Selene... come back fast."
The statue's broken eyes stared down at him, and in the windless silence, it almost looked like they blinked.
---
The scent of dried blood came first—then the whisper of shadows shifting. Selene emerged from the tunnel's black mouth like a ghost returning from a hunt, her coat dusted in soot, arms cradling bundled, half-dried meat.
"Boar," she said, tossing a wrapped cut toward Raen. "And some other thing with tusks and too many eyes. They were slow though."
She didn't smile, but the slight curve at her mouth said she wanted to.
Raen caught it, inspected it with a frown. "Looks like it chewed through stone."
"It probably did."
Selene knelt near the fire pit they'd carved earlier and summoned a flicker of shadow. It danced across the dry logs, igniting them with slow-burning heat, then faded into smoke. The fire cracked with color—orange, gold, and violet, as if stained by the kingdom's ash-stained air.
As the meat sizzled, she spoke without looking up. "There are beasts above. Not just revenants. I saw something tall—seven meters, maybe more. Not human, not anything. Its face was... stretched. Like it remembered dying."
Raen stayed silent, turning the meat with a twig.
"Also," she added, "the revenants are hunting in groups now. Packs. Some look like knights. Others look like prisoners. It's a whole damn family reunion up there."
Raen raised a brow. "And you still went up?"
"You were too weak to move," she said, shrugging. "And I got bored."
Still reckless... or maybe just used to chaos.
The meat darkened, its scent stronger now. His stomach growled—loudly. I'm really hungry. That's new. Hunger hadn't touched him once in the first phase. He hadn't even thought about food. So the system changed that too. This wager is starting to feel real.
They sat down near the fire, feet stretched out in the dust. The world around them was silent, except for the soft wind and the occasional cracking of flame.
Selene bit into the meat. "So. What'd you learn?"
Raen wiped his mouth, leaned back against the rock. "After dinner."
She groaned. "You dramatic bastard."
He smirked a little and kept chewing.
She's not wrong.
---
They had just finished the last strips of roasted boar, the crackling fire giving off just enough warmth to blur the edge of the cold stone air.
Raen leaned back against the broken arch of the tunnel wall, his fingers still greasy from the meal, his thoughts heavier than the meat sitting in his stomach.
Selene sat across from him, her legs crossed and her eyes dim under the flickering firelight. "Alright," she said as she tossed a bone into the ash, "I gave you meat, you owe me information."
Raen exhaled, slow and low. She always jumps straight into it, doesn't she?
"I asked the system earlier," he began, brushing a lock of hair from his face, "and it finally answered. This whole thing—we're not just in a wager, we're in something deeper. The terrain shifting, the revenants, even that collapse yesterday, none of it was random. It's all structured, it's all… scripted, like the system is dragging us into something layered."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "Scripted? You mean someone's pulling strings?"
"Not just someone," Raen replied, his tone firm but tired, "I think the system is nesting wagers. Like, we entered one—a simple skirmish—and that was just the bait. But now we're in the real wager. One that revolves around the Ashborn Prince."
Selene leaned forward. "What's the wager about then? His throne?"
Raen nodded. "Something like that. I think the end goal is tied to that throne—either to take it, break it, or maybe even reach the Prince directly. But it doesn't make sense."
"What doesn't?"
He paused, staring into the fire like it might spill the answer. "The Prince is bound to his throne, right? That's what the records say. But he's also influencing everything. He's moving pieces, summoning revenants, pulling terrain across entire landscapes. That kind of power doesn't come from a chair—it comes from presence. So either the Ashborn Prince isn't really bound… or there's something moving on his behalf."
Selene frowned. "Like a general?"
Raen shook his head. "No, worse. A vessel."
The word hung in the air like a curse.
And then—
Something in his spine turned cold. A crawling awareness prickled at his neck. His eyes flicked past Selene.
Down the tunnel's broken corridor, beyond the reach of the firelight, something stood. Tall. Wrong. It had five arms and two legs, its skin pale like bone soaked in milk, its hair long and white, trailing like mist. It didn't move, not at first. It just stood, watching them.
"Selene," Raen said, his voice barely a breath, "behind you."
She turned slowly, shadows already curling at her fingers. The figure did not charge, did not shriek. It simply smiled, its mouth far too wide for a face that didn't blink.
Then, the system chimed:
> [System Message: Fear me. Ashes Don't Forgive.]
That's not a revenant, Raen thought, That's something worse.
Selene didn't hesitate. The instant Raen spoke, her shadow surged like a coiled serpent, wrapping around him and lifting him onto its back in one smooth motion. She was already moving, her boots pounding against stone as the tunnel echoed with the whisper of something that should never breathe.
Raen clung to the shifting form beneath him, his eyes locked on the thing that stood behind them.
It hadn't moved.
It was still smiling.
What the hell are you?
The firelight vanished as they turned a corner, but Raen craned his neck, refusing to look away. And then—he blinked.
And the world changed.
The creature was there, again, not behind them now but close—too close—its arms dragging across the tunnel walls, its head cocked sideways like it hadn't yet decided which of them to eat first.
Raen's breath caught in his throat. "Selene," he muttered, loud enough to catch her ear, "don't stop, but listen."
"What?" she hissed, her voice tight.
"It only moves when we're not watching it." He blinked again. The thing surged forward like a falling star. "I blinked, and it got closer. It only moves when it's not being seen."
Selene's eyes widened. "You're saying—"
"I have to watch it. I have to keep my eyes open," Raen said, his throat dry, his hands trembling as he twisted to keep the creature in view. "If I blink again, it'll get us."
"That's… ridiculous," she muttered, pushing harder down the tunnel.
"And yet here we are," Raen growled, his voice low and raw. Of course it had to be something like this. Of course it would be cursed logic.
His eyes were already burning, his lashes twitching with every second, but he kept them open. He couldn't afford to blink.
Not even once.
Ashes don't forgive… and neither do eyes that stay shut.