The harsh inferno flickered, subsuming the surrounding village within its burning embrace.

Having grown more accustomed to the sensations within the Seed, Dharen attempted to understand more of the world around him.

It was harder than he had thought it would be, with the all-consuming fear pressing down on him. It was a fear borne of another time, of another self. For he had become all but certain that, despite the alienness of his surroundings, this was a record from his own life. He simply did not remember.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking.

He had always desired to know where he came from, who he had been. He had spent his life searching, attempting to find any clue.

It was ironic that he held it within himself all this time.

He felt his bare feet press against the stone below him, his muscles protesting as they went into immediate overdrive.

Having grown more accustomed to the weight of the terror that pressed upon him, Dharen focused his attention on picking out the details around him. Though he could not control his body and observe around himself, he was still able to see a number of details.

Tendrils of shadow coiled from underneath fallen debris, twisting around fires and the corpses of the already-fallen.

The corpses.

They were of the same type of monster as the ones he had seen in the hut.

Their skin was a mottled gray, a shade that would have blended in well with the surroundings were it not for the light of the fires. The creatures had angular faces, with prominent cheekbones that only served to highlight the darkness of their eyes. Their teeth were vicious constructs, the lower canines jutting upwards like small daggers.

He did not know what they were.

As his gaze passed over them, a deep feeling of grief made its presence known - intertwined with the deep-rooted fear that had made its home within his chest.

Why did the corpses of monsters elicit these emotions within himself?

For he was absolutely sure now that the Seed was showing him lost memories.

As the shadows had gathered, they made their home around him, pooling around his feet and silencing his steps. His own ability, Softstep.

He felt the piercing cold in his left shoulder, courtesy of the Seed that had made its home there.

Yet, he had no time to dwell on such thoughts. Unrelentingly, his body propelled him forwards.

He arrived at the hut, its increasingly familiar thatch structure coming into view. It was primitive, yet sturdy. To the extent that a thatch hut could be, anyway. He looked past the flames that licked the surroundings, focusing on the small details that had escaped his notice previously.

Even here, there were corpses littering the ground - all of them the same type of creature that he had seen before. Their bodies were covered with defensive wounds, slashes and cuts marring the flesh of their forearms. Though a few held weapons of their own, the vast majority wielded only their claws with which to fight.

His body pulled itself into a low crouch, sidling along the hut.

Just as before, the warriors inside spoke in the moment before he glanced inside the abode.

He felt the wave of anxiety and fear once more as he looked at the female monster. Not fear of her. Fear for her?

The next few moments passed quickly, as she died and he leapt upon the warrior with bared teeth. They sunk easily into the flesh, far easier than they should have. As he was thrown off, he noted the dual set of deep wounds that had been inflicted on the warrior’s body - the result of a pair of sharp canines.

A fire was set in his chest, followed by a debilitating feeling of coldness. The warriors left as he lay helpless and dying on the floor, rapidly bleeding out from the sword wound inflicted upon him.

Dharen noted with surprise that the Seed’s record did not end here.

A bitterness enveloped him. A rage that made him wish to rail against the world itself. An implacable frustration, borne of helplessness and loss. Tears fell from his eyes.

His mouth twisted, forming grief-ridden words.

“Please…” he found himself sobbing. “Anyone… Please help us.”

His claws scrabbled against the stone below him, desperate for purchase.

His claws?

His gaze shifted upwards, as a strange apparition manifested in the smoke. It twisted and writhed, transforming from one form to the next.

Finally, a man emerged, kneeling next to him. His face was hidden behind a blank, gray-slate mask that seemed to emit a powerful aura.

Still reeling from the roiling emotions of the vision as they combined with his own confusion, Dharen missed what the man said. Yet, he couldn’t miss what happened next.

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

You have received a Divine Offer!

Pledge yourself to the Faceless One and receive a Sacred Item?

(Y/N)

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

As the offer made itself known, a flood of information filled his mind. An intense pain overloaded his mind, yet he grasped for it, desperately reaching to uncover its secrets. He grabbed hold and -

Sweat engulfed his body, wrapping him in a layer of perspiration. His heart raced, a galloping beat that formed thunder within his chest. Slowly, he calmed himself, breathing carefully to quiet the remnants of fear that still flooded through him. He could feel that the strength of his aura had increased once more, along with his Fear Seed increasing its level to 16.

Name:

Dharen

Race:

Faceless Human

Affiliation:

The Faceless One

Spirit:

71

Strength:

98

Agility:

191

Vitality:

66

Endurance:

128 (134.4)

Wisdom:

1

Charisma:

1

Luck:

1

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

Tower Tokens:

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

7,500

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

In fact, he could instinctively feel that the strength of his Fear aura had increased enough to alter To The Victor, The Spoils. Curious to see the result, he did so.

Fear The Champion (Common) Rank II

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

- Reaper -

Twisted by an aura of Fear, your Spoils are absolute. Reap the soul of the defeated, claiming what is your right by battle.

Collect a victim’s soul and gain 20% of the Defeated’s strongest attribute while their soul is held within your grasp.

Can only hold one soul at a time. Exacts a constant Spirit toll. If Reaper is deactivated, the enemy soul will be lost.

⥫⥬⥫⥬⥫⥬

Looking over the Fear-twisted version of To The Victor, The Spoils, Dharen couldn’t help but smile. Just as he had expected, the alteration had proven quite useful. Though it would be difficult to entirely understand its usefulness without testing it in the field, it certainly seemed like a potent addition to his arsenal.

For example, he was unsure whether or not he would be able to have both Reaper and To The Victor, The Spoils activated at the same time. Considering that they were not two separate abilities, but instead were one ability utilized in different ways, it was unlikely they could be used together. However, Reaper was a far more reliable bonus than To The Victor, The Spoils and the two could have disparate utilizations that would be helpful depending upon the given situation.

Despite his excitement, his attention gradually drew back to the vision within his Seed of Fear. He now felt an even greater urge to strengthen himself; the answers to questions that had plagued him for years were within his grasp. Who he had been, where he was from, and many other things all seemed wrapped up within the records tucked away within his Seed.

Though he was unable to recall any of the information that had attempted to flood his mind so painfully, he could remember the offer itself. A Divine offer.

The Faceless One, it seemed, was a divine being.

Does that make me his priest? What exactly did I agree to?

And, of course, he also questioned his presence within the dying village of monsters - his clear emotions towards them, and the strange aspects of his own body.

Though he wished to plunge back within the depths of his Seed, he knew that his questions would have to wait. Yet, he also knew that they would be answered in time. He only needed to grow stronger.