Soul Forging System

Stephan and Olath left the river behind. From there stretched only barren wasteland leading toward the looming black mountain. The leafless trees thinned until none remained, the cracked earth beneath their boots spreading like broken glass. Heat shimmered across the desolation, baking the land.

"I think you made a mistake," Olath's voice broke the silence. The boy's tone was calm, but firm, uncharacteristically so.

Stephan glanced down at him. "You think so, huh?"

"You shouldn't have let him live." Olath's eyes stayed forward, fixed on the horizon. "Not if he's your rival."

Stephan smirked faintly. "I think you clearly heard why I let him walk away."

"That was a foolish reason," the boy replied coldly. "Spare an enemy, and he'll rise again to strike you when you least expect it. You don't get chances like that twice. Among gnomes, if an enemy lay broken at our feet, be he orc or elf, we'd cut his throat without hesitation."

Stephan chuckled, though his gaze hardened. "You're hateful for a boy your age."

"No," Olath said, eyes sharp, voice quiet but edged with steel. "I'm careful."

The heat pressed on them as if the land itself was listening.

From then on they walked in silence. Olath slipped into his usual withdrawn state, his small frame moving almost ghostlike across the cracked earth. Stephan didn't press him; words weren't his strength either. Besides, his thoughts were elsewhere, circling back to the slaughter at the river, to the broken man he had spared, and most of all, to the name that now weighed heavy in his mind.

Belanor.

That smug, murderous bastard wasn't just another rival, he was a storm, a threat unlike anything Stephan had seen since the Tournament began. If the rumors were true, Belanor wasn't just strong… he was the kind of monster that could shift the balance of this realm. Probably my greatest obstacle yet, Stephan thought grimly.

The barren landscape seemed to mirror his thoughts. The cracked soil deepened into jagged ravines, as if the land itself had been torn apart by some ancient wound. The air grew hotter, drier, and the silence pressed heavier with each step. Even the wind avoided this place. No insects buzzed, no birds circled above, only the sound of their boots crunching against brittle earth.

As they drew closer to the looming mountain, its presence became suffocating. Black stone rose into the sky like the ribcage of some dead titan, casting long, skeletal shadows across the wasteland. The very ground began to shift beneath their feet, changing from dust and rock into fine, pale sand that shimmered under the merciless sun. Each step sank slightly deeper, the heat radiating upward as though the desert itself were alive and breathing.

At the base of the mountain, the desert revealed its mouth. The entrance to the Soul Desert wasn't just a stretch of sand, it was a gate of dread. Two jagged cliffs framed a vast canyon of golden-white dunes that rolled endlessly into the horizon. Strange black monoliths jutted from the sand at odd angles, humming faintly, almost like whispers carried on the wind. The air shimmered unnaturally here, bending light, and an oppressive heat pressed down on them, heavier than any weight of stone.

Olath stopped, staring into the vast expanse. His small hand twitched at his side.

"There it is," he murmured. "The Soul Desert."

Stephan squinted at the blinding dunes, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.

"Then that's where we go."

And without another word, they stepped into the land of burning sand and hidden souls.

"Who's we?" Olath said suddenly, his voice tighter than usual. His small hands balled into fists at his sides. "I'm not going in there."

Stephan stopped mid-step, sand crunching beneath his boot as he turned back to face the boy. His eyes narrowed. "Come on, boy. You can't just stand here. How the hell am I supposed to protect you if you stay behind?"

"I agreed to accompany you to the Soul Desert," Olath replied, his voice trembling but stubborn, "but not into it. No one goes in there. I'll wait here until dawn."

"So that's it? You're scared." Stephan's tone was half mocking, half frustrated. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over the boy. "Listen, I gave your mother my word I wouldn't let anything happen to you. That means you have my protection, whether you like it or not."

Olath's eyes flicked past Stephan, drawn to the endless dunes ahead where heat rippled and shadows seemed to dance unnaturally. His jaw tightened. "Some protections aren't enough in there. You don't understand… that desert doesn't just kill the body. It swallows everything, your mind, your soul."

Stephan studied him for a long moment, then smirked faintly. "Then it's a good thing I don't scare easy."

But the boy wasn't convinced. His small frame was stiff with resolve, his voice steadier than Stephan expected.

"I'm not going in there. I'll be safer here than in there. If I stay behind, you won't get distracted...won't have to keep swooping in to save me." Olath's dark eyes met his, clear and unflinching.

Stephan fell silent, chewing on the words. The boy wasn't wrong. In there, he could slow him down, be a weakness enemies would exploit. But here? The vast emptiness had been barren for miles. No sound, no beast, no sign of life except the shifting dunes and the mountain's looming shadow. Still…

Should I risk leaving the boy here? Stephan's gut tightened. What if we miscalculated, and something does roam this stretch of the desert? Then what?

He turned, scanning the endless horizon where the cracked earth gave way to the creeping sands of the Soul Desert. His mind weighed the choice like a blade in hand,two edges, both sharp.

"Are you sure you want to stay behind, boy?" Stephan asked finally, his tone heavy.

Olath nodded without hesitation. "I'll wait for you here until dawn. So you'd better finish whatever business you have in there before the sun rises again."

The wind whispered across the dry earth, carrying grains of dust between them like a silent pact.

"Okay, got it," Stephan said at last, his voice firm but not unkind. "But don't move from this spot until I come back."

Olath folded his arms, standing his ground like stone. "If you return before sunrise, you'll find me here."

Stephan studied him for a moment longer. A faint smile tugged at his lips, not mocking, almost proud. With a casual motion, he slipped his hands into his pockets, turning toward the looming maw of the Soul Desert.

"Be careful, kid," he muttered, the words carried away by the dry wind.

Without looking back again, Stephan stepped forward. His boots sank into the shifting black sands. The air grew heavier, colder, and as the boundary of the Soul Desert swallowed him, the boy was left behind under the fading starlight, alone, but unshaken.

The moment Stephan crossed the threshold, the world shifted. The sand beneath his boots was no longer pale and cracked but black as ash, littered with jagged obsidian stones that shimmered faintly in the dim light. They pulsed faintly, like fragments broken off from the looming mountain ahead.

The mountain itself towered impossibly high, its jagged peak swallowed by thick, swirling clouds. It wasn't just tall, it felt eternal, as if it had stood there long before the world had taken shape.

Then it hit him.

That energy.

Stephan's grin spread as the suffocating aura coiled around him. The air vibrated with it, a malignant rhythm that made the hairs on his neck rise. It wasn't just death, it was something worse. A host of restless spirits pressed against his skin, whispering at the edges of his mind.

He inhaled deeply, savoring it.

"These aren't random strays," he muttered to himself. His eyes gleamed. "This feels like an army."

The thought didn't make him flinch. It made him smile wider.Stephan's eyes traced the jagged slopes of the mountain until he found it, an ancient path carved into the dark stone, winding like a scar all the way to the peak.

"Seems like I'll have to climb to the top…" he murmured. His gaze dropped, sharp as a blade. "…but first."

The air shifted.

Bones clattered against the black sand as the first of them appeared. Not wraiths, not abyssal horrors, no, these were simpler, cruder, but no less unsettling. Human skeletons, their frames rattling inside rusted armor, marched forward in steady formation. Long spears leveled, shields locked tight, blades raised in a silent advance.

And then came the archers, rows of bone figures drawing back stringless bows, arrowheads gleaming with eerie soul-fire.

Stephan's grin widened. They weren't strays, they were organized. Disciplined. He tried to count them but gave up, there were too many. A legion of the dead, an army lost to time and now bound by this cursed mountain.

Then his eyes caught movement.

Perched on a boulder behind the ranks stood a taller skeleton, its armor blackened yet intact, etched with faint sigils that glowed like dying embers. A helm crowned its skull, and in its bony hand rested a jagged greatsword that pulsed faintly with soul energy.

Stephan tilted his head, amused.

"You must be the captain." His grin sharpened. "Perfect."