The silence of the spire held.
Cold stone. Burnt air. The lingering scent of blood and smoke.
Koda stood in the aftermath—his heartbeat slow, measured, unnaturally steady. The hunger had not left him. It coiled inside, vast and waiting.
But it no longer pulled.
It listened.
And as the last echo of the system's voice faded from the chamber, new text burned into his vision.
⸻
Koda of the Eternal Guide
Level: 21
HP: 251 / 370
Mana: 307 / 370
Stamina: 248 / 370
Stats:
Strength: 25 (+12)
Vitality: 25 (+12)
Agility: 25 (+12)
Intelligence: 25 (+12)
Wisdom: 25 (+12)
Endurance: 25 (+12)
Traits:
Balance (Divine) – All stat increases apply equally to all attributes. Harmony is growth.
Temperance (Divine) — "Power not taken, but earned. Strength not dominant, but in harmony."
A Divine trait bestowed upon those who refuse the allure of quick strength, choosing instead the difficult path of balance. Temperance grants a 50% boost to all abilities, stats, and efficiencies—but only when all core stats are within 1 point of each other.
Skills:
Blade of Conviction – Active
Summon a weapon forged of pure will. The more clarity and purpose you hold, the stronger the blade. Willpower and Wisdom affect damage.
Mantle of Echoes – Passive
Passive aura forged from experience. Strength scales with Wisdom.
+Minor Fear (enemies), +Minor Focus (allies)
⸻
He blinked.
The void no longer thrashed against its cage. It watched—curious, almost reverent.
Not gone. Not conquered.
Balanced.
Koda exhaled, steam trailing from his lips in long ribbons. The ache in his body remained, but dulled—like a forge cooling after the final strike. The divine and the unholy shared his bones now. What should have shattered him had instead forged something else.
Something new.
And below—beyond the fractured stairs and the ruined chamber—the battle still roared.
He turned.
And began to descend.
The stone steps echoed beneath Koda's feet as he descended, his breath steady, mind sharp. The fight above had ended, but something pulled at him—an unfinished thread, an instinct honed through too many close calls.
Then he saw it.
The orc chief, once a towering wall of brutal muscle and corrupted strength, was now… rotting alive. Black veins pulsed violently beneath its skin, and tumors of warped flesh blossomed and burst like overripe fruit. Its frame twitched, spasmed. Chunks of flesh hit the ground with wet slaps, steaming in the cold air. The unholy power it had drawn upon was backfiring—turning its own body into a failing conduit.
Koda's hand clenched. Too dangerous to let it recover. Too unstable to leave breathing.
He moved. A flash of silver will surged to his palm, the Blade of Conviction forming with a snap of smoke and pressure. But this time, it was different.
The blade felt weightless, almost an extension of thought. The air shimmered around it, edges so fine they hummed against reality. Koda's entire body felt light, responsive—balanced. Every step, every breath, perfectly synchronized. No part lagging behind. No stat overshadowing the others.
Temperance was active.
The orc raised a malformed arm, gurgling a war cry from a collapsing throat.
Too slow.
Koda's blade cleaved through the arm—and then the chest—like paper. No resistance. No drag. The orc chief's body fell in two perfect halves, bisected diagonally from shoulder to hip. Each chunk hit the ground with finality, the corrupted flesh melting into a pool of dark rot.
Silence.
Koda stood still, his blade flickering in the air, fading slowly. He looked at his hands.
That wasn't just stronger… it was something else entirely.
The divine blessing surged quietly in his chest like a heartbeat, the feeling of total internal harmony. Temperance didn't just empower him—it unleashed him.
"…I barely swung," he whispered.
The two halves of the orc chief still sizzled on the stone floor, smoke curling upward in lazy trails. Silence settled, thick and unnatural, as if even the air was processing what had just happened.
Koda turned, footsteps echoing as he sheathed the fading remnants of the Blade of Conviction. At the base of the stairs, the surviving members of the expedition stood frozen—battle-worn, bloodied, and staring at him like he was someone else entirely.
Elis was the first to speak.
"…What was that?" She asked, voice low, awed. "You didn't even… try."
Koda glanced down at his hand, then back at the steaming ruin behind him. "Temperance," he said, as if that explained anything.
One of the group's surviving healers clutched a cracked staff to her chest, brow furrowed. "I felt the magic ripple—divine. You shouldn't be standing. Let alone… that."
A weak cough brought everyone's attention to the corner, where one of the youngest in the group sat slumped against the wall. Blood stained his side, but he was grinning through the pain.
"Gods, you cut that bastard like he was made of paper," he said. "That new? Because I love it."
The healer moved quickly, her hands already glowing with pale green light as she tended to the wounded. Koda helped her, and then the others—simple gestures, but quiet and grounding. They'd survived, somehow.
"Don't get too comfortable," Koda said, standing once more. "The fight isn't over."
Everyone looked up.
High above, at the peak of the blackened spire, the final threat still pulsed—a dull, rhythmic throb that could be felt in the bones. The Heart. Ancient. Awakened. Waiting.
"We go to the top," Koda said, eyes sharp. "We finish this."
No one argued.
The climb was steep and silent, the air growing thinner as they neared the spire's peak. Each step pulsed with a distant rhythm—slow, immense, alive.
At the summit, they saw it.
The Heart hovered above a fractured pedestal of black stone, suspended in a tangle of rune-bound chains and flickering arcs of corrupted energy. A grotesque thing of flesh and light, beating with a terrible calm. Veins of power webbed out from it—into the walls, into the ground, into everything that had tried to kill them.
No words were exchanged. They fanned out, circling it with slow, measured steps. Blades drawn. Wards up. No one dared breathe too loud.
Koda stepped forward.
Torren's voice came low, rough from exhaustion. "You sure?"
Koda didn't answer. The Blade of Conviction formed in his hand, summoned with will alone. But now—amplified by Temperance—it wasn't just a weapon. It was a truth made solid. His body responded perfectly, balance humming in every limb.
He raised the blade. One clean motion.
Schlkkk.
The Heart split in two.
It didn't scream. It didn't shatter. It simply opened—a terrible, luminous wound in the world.
Koda's breath caught. But there was no time.
The Heart convulsed once more—then erupted. A blast of raw energy tore outward, a burst of colorless light that felt like falling through a scream. A vertical rift opened in the air itself, warping reality with a deafening silence.
Dara shouted something—but the sound was gone. Ripped from the world.
The pressure grabbed them, dragged them. Time blurred. Space twisted. Koda's vision fractured—Torren reaching for him, Elise shielding her eyes, Rovik twisting mid-air like a thrown blade—then nothing.
Then—
Cold grass. Open sky.
Koda landed hard, rolled once, and came up with his weapon half-formed in reflex. But there was no enemy—only the stillness of dawn on the outskirts of Oria. The dungeon's twisted spire was gone, erased as if it had never existed.
Around him, the others were slowly regaining their bearings.
Torren coughed and stood, muttering, "…The hell just happened?"
No one answered. Not yet.
Koda's focus narrowed. Inside him, something pulsed. Not the Heart—but something deeper. A quiet, divine resonance.
A path had opened.
And it was calling.
———
Koda stood at the edge of the clearing, just beyond the reach of the others' voices. The wind shifted, brushing his face as the last remnants of the dungeon's power faded into the ether.
He felt it stir within him—subtle, but undeniable. Not a voice. Not a message. Just a presence.
The same presence he had felt before, when a blade had formed in his hand, or when a mantle of will wrapped around his shoulders.
Opening his status, the light of the notification came to view.
[Skill Slot Unlocked]
[ Oath of the Watcher] - Active
You take no action, yet nothing escapes you.
Temporarily enter a heightened state of awareness. Movement slows, but perception sharpens. All enemy actions are seen a heartbeat before they occur. Cannot attack while active.
A skill of patience. For those who guide others, not strike first.
[Bastion's Reach] - Active
Become the shield between the world and your kin.
Manifest a barrier around an ally within short range. Absorbs damage, scaling with Willpower and Vitality. While active, Koda's movement is slowed, and he draws aggro from enemies nearby.
A skill of defense. For those who stand between the darkness and the light.
[Unbroken Vow] - Passive
You do not fall. You do not yield.
Non lethal wounds close at a slow pace even during battle. Bleeding is reduced. Pain is dulled. Healing effects on you are moderately more effective.
A skill of endurance. For those who choose to keep moving forward no matter the cost.
Koda's jaw tightened.
The watcher would see his allies survive. The shield would keep them safe. Good choices. Rational ones.
But he hadn't made it this far by staying still. He hadn't survived the hollow spire by hiding behind anything. He bled. He endured. And he stood.
He reached—not with his hand, but with will—and the choice settled into him like a second spine.
[Skill Acquired – Unbroken Vow]
No light flared. No sound followed. Just a warmth in his chest, steady and deep. His muscles eased. His cuts didn't magically start to close—but the sting of them faded. Pain dulled. Breath steadied. His blood answered, and it was enough.
He opened his eyes and turned back toward the others, already walking. Whatever this path was, it was his now.
He would burn for it if he had to.
But he would never stop.