The clangor of steel resounded loudly inside the obsidian spire—or at least it would have if not for the fact that no sounds were being transmitted in the obsidian realm.
Lucien and the tenebrous knight were locked in a silent clash, blades grinding—soundless, suffocated. The spire around them didn't echo—it swallowed. The knight loomed like a cathedral of steel and fury, every movement deliberate, every blow a declaration of destruction. Lucien strained against the force, legs buckling slightly as he twisted out of the bind, barely dodging a brutal downswing.
"Y'know," Darky murmured, lounging at the edge of Lucien's awareness, "you could've dodged that a little earlier. Maybe next time, don't block with your entire ribcage?"
"Working on it," Lucien muttered, breath ragged.
He surged in—this time not blindly. He feinted high, then drove low, blade aimed at a chink behind the knight's knee. It struck true. Metal split. The knight faltered, one leg briefly locking.
Lucien didn't stop. He pivoted, slid behind the colossus, slashed again—another weak point. Sparks flew. The knight lurched forward, balance broken for half a second.
Lucien raised his blade, breath burning, and lunged for the exposed back joint—
—but the knight moved faster. Inhumanly. Its sword reversed mid-spin, carving through the air with terrifying grace. Lucien twisted mid-lunge, but not fast enough.
The blade caught him across the ribs. Deep. Jagged. His momentum faltered. His strike fell short.
He staggered and fell backwards, gasping, hand clutching the wound. The knight advanced. No hesitation. No triumph. Just cold, perfect purpose.
"Well," Darky said, tone mock-cheerful, "this seems like a promising turn."
Lucien got to one knee. The knight's blade was already rising. There was no hesitation. No cruelty. Just execution. He looked up into a face hidden by black steel.
"Hey—try not to blink, this part's usually messy."
The sword came down. Clean. Final.
Lucien's world went dark. Again.
[---You Have Died---]
***
"Ahhh!"
Lucien jolted upright, breath ragged. No pain—of course not. But his mind screamed louder than his throat ever could. 'Tsk. Doesn't even hurt'.
Just then, Darky's voice resounded in his mind, 'Hey umm… you might wanna look up!'
'What…?' Lucien asked before looking up.
There he saw Luna standing there in armor that shimmered with silver plating, smooth and polished to reflect the light like a mirror of the heavens.
Beneath, dark black undercloth clung to the form, soft yet resilient, providing both flexibility and subtle contrast to the brilliance above. Gold accents traced along the edges—elegant and refined—highlighting the contours of the breastplate, gauntlets, and collar, adding a divine, almost ethereal touch without overwhelming the armor's stark, celestial beauty. The whole ensemble exuded an aura of silent strength and quiet majesty.
She was staring at him intently with a hint of curiosity, "What's with the screaming?" she asked.
"Well, you see…" Lucien was going to respond, but then realization dawned upon him—he wasn't wearing anything. He had been too engrossed in the fight, calculating what he could've done better, that his current predicament had completely skipped his mind.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, as he hurried to cover himself with his hands.
"Oh! So we're playing innocent now huh!" she lightly chuckled, "After gods know what you did to me."
"I didn't do anything wrong!" Lucien calmly stated.
Luna spoke—with a tone that hinted otherwise, "Sure… I believe you," she continued. "Any news on Kim?"
"No, he was probably dropped somewhere else—hopefully somewhere safer," Lucien sighed. "How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough to summon this armor Relic," she replied.
A silence followed suit, with neither of them saying anything.
'Seriously, what is it with you guys and awkward silences?' Darky's voice resounded in Lucien's head.
In the end, it was Luna who broke the silence.
"Wanna update me on what's been going on?"
Lucien sighed. "Sure," he continued. "It's our second day here. We were dropped out on some random snowy plain, and so I carried you here. Let me think… there was also a—by the looks of it—a Whispering Rift sitting around somewhere close to the entrance of the cave."
Lucien shifted slightly as he felt the cold air brush against his skin, causing him to shiver.
"Here," Luna spoke as she approached and put her hand on his shoulder.
A warmth filled him, causing his shivering to lessen—it wasn't perfect, but it was something.
"Thanks," Lucien spoke in a low tone.
"Now where was I, ah, yes. I distracted the Echo with my shadow, Darky—he is sentient by the way—and then I made a run for the cave. Nothing much happened after that. I placed you down and fell asleep myself."
"Are you sure you aren't missing out some details of what happened after you entered the cave?" Luna inquired in a sarcastic tone.
"No!" Lucien instantly shot back.
"I meant the screaming, what was that about?"
Lucien calmed a bit—he knew that she was teasing him, yet he couldn't help but fall for it. "It was just—" Once again, a sudden pain jolted in his mind, causing him to wince. "I just died in my dream, nothing much."
Luna simply nodded. She knew he was holding off from telling her, but she didn't press on, not wanting to further invade.
This time, it was Lucien who spoke first. "So, what're we gonna do now? I haven't heard of… whatever this place is in the Institute."
"It's probably an uncharted part of The Threshold. At worst, it's an uncharted deathzone."
Although Lucien had suspected it, hearing it firsthand was a bit disheartening.
"I suggest we rest and plan today, and start moving tomorrow," Luna said stoically.
"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but uhh… what about the Echo outside?" Lucien questioned.
"We'll deal with it. Rest for now," Luna responded in a nonchalant tone.
'Hey, dumbass!' Darky's voice resounded in Lucien's head.
'What?' Lucien replied in an annoyed voice.
'Maybe I just missed something, but uhh… why haven't you tried summoning the Relic?'
Lucien simply stared at his shadow, not because it had something preposterous, but something so obvious that he had simply overlooked.
'I just didn't want to,' Lucien replied hurriedly.
'Well, I think now's the best time to do so,' Darky replied in a sarcastic tone.
Lucien sighed, before bringing his dorsal up to his forehead and entering his mindscape.
There it was, the dark planetary system that was his mindscape. It was distinct from what a mindscape is supposed to look like—at least from Professor Fig's description of it.
The shadow star floated in the center, with the dark mote floating around it. Lucien willed the mote to appear in front of him, and so it did. It looked different, unique even, than the descriptions of relics he had read. It floated there with no particular form, like an ever-changing ferrofluid that reacted to his movements and sucked all the light around it.
As his fingers neared, the Mark stirred—
[Void's Gift Recognized. Lineage Confirmed. Would You Like to Soulbind?]
'Huh?' This was a first. Lucien had never heard of gifts from Fragments, or Soulbinding. 'And what's this about a Lineage?' Lucien considered for a few seconds. 'What's the worst that could happen?' He thought before saying:
"Yes."
The mote froze, and suddenly shot into Lucien's left hand—which was also his dominant hand. He felt a sharp searing pain in his hand, or at least he would have, if not for his verse which prevented him from feeling pain.
It wasn't long before the Mark's voice once again resounded:
[---Binding Successful---]
[Relic: Gate To Darkness Has Evolved!]
[Divine Lineage Unlocked!]
Lucien looked down at his left hand, which now had a mass of darkness right in the center of his palm. 'Kind of looks like a tattoo.' If the tattoo was like a mass of darkness with roots that emanated a sense of death growing out of it—that is.
Something inside Lucien changed, something vast had taken root, He felt the change, causing him to slightly shiver
Lucien turned his focus to the large shadowy star to check if something had changed—perhaps related to the relic.
[---Rank: Nascent---]
[---True Calling: Prince of Death---]
[---Mark Attribute: Bastard of Fate---]
[Where ever you go, fate stirs, either ruin follows, or grace lingers]
[---Divine Lineage---]
[---Void's Legacy: 0/5---]
'Void's Legacy?'
'Nice. I get to grind Void now—that doesn't sound right. Because that's what I needed in my life—a fucking cosmic leveling system.'
'What even is a leveling system?' he muttered, before shaking his head and moving on to the runes that were still morphing
[---Relics---]
[---Name: Void's Requiem---]
[---Type: #?#?#---]
[---Rank: Ethereal---]
A sharp grin found its place on his face, 'An Ethereal Relic—probably the first one', he thought, before continuing to read the morphed runes.
[---Description---]
[Despite being but a fractured Fragment of its former divine existence, the Void stirred from eternal slumber at its sibling's behest, unknown. In response, it granted its blessing to the favored one of unknown. Upon discerning the favored one's true essence, the Void offered a requiem—something once borne in silence by the Void itself.
The Void envies, while unknown fears—fearing the Void's reach, and envying its quiet certainty.]
'Unknown?' he thought to himself, 'Is it the name of a Fragment?' 'And what did it mean by former divine existence?' 'Also what's with the type?' Too many questions and too little answers…
However as he continued to read the description, the latter line struck him like thunder in silence.
"Borne by the Void itself."
Lucien blinked. Once. Twice. He felt the air in his lungs rebel. The Relic hadn't been made. It had remained—surviving through eras, through ends. And now it pulsed in his hand.
Something ancient stirred in the shadows of his mindscape. The great black star overhead flickered—just once—and a crack shimmered along the inner glass of the realm.
He didn't speak. Didn't dare.
That tiny crack screamed volumes. There was more behind it. More than power. More than purpose.
Something ancient. And lonely. And endless.
Lucien brought his dorsal down from his forehead and exited his mindscape—taking several deep breaths to collect his thoughts.
'Ok, so, I seem to have somehow gotten an Ethereal-ranked Relic, probably the first one in existence.' Lucien looked down at his palm where the black tattoo was still present—looking at it outside his mindscape, however, was different—it was as if his perception of death got warped when staring at it, as if it was a gateway, leading to a boundless void.
Lucien flexed his palm, staring at the mark.
'…Yep. Definitely cursed.'
He let his hand drop to his lap, still naked, traumatized, and somehow now half-chosen by a cosmic abyss.
'Gods, I really need a shirt…' he looked down, 'and pants'.
He paused, then spoke in a quiet—dejected tone.
'…and maybe even a therapist.'
With that, Lucien shut his his eyes and focused on his previous fights with knight till nightfall, then;
He once again slipped into the cold embrace of slumber,