A World of Hollow Thrones

The Ashen Remnants shuffled forward, their movements unnatural, twisted. They weren't alive—not in the way Ethan knew it. Their bodies were too thin, too long, joints bending at wrong angles. Rusted metal masks fused to their faces, hiding whatever horrors lay beneath. Empty sockets stared, unblinking, yet somehow seeing everything.

Ethan couldn't fight them all. Not here. Not now. He needed to escape, find shelter, and understand this hell. But the city offered no refuge—only crumbling stone and ash.

He sprinted through a narrow alley, barely wide enough to move, the walls pressing in. His breath came in ragged gasps as he spotted an opening into a wider street.

Then, he saw them.

The Remnants. They were hunched over something, tearing at it, feasting.

A body. A young woman, her clothes ripped, her face frozen in terror. Her chest was ripped open, and the Remnants tore into her flesh like animals, pulling chunks of her apart. One of them lifted her still-beating heart to its mask, devouring it with a sickening sound.

Ethan's stomach churned. He gagged, unable to stop himself, and vomited, the bile splattering across the bloodstained ground.

He had to go.

But as he turned to flee, one of the Remnants spotted him. Its head snapped toward him, its mask smeared with blood, its empty eye sockets locking onto him. A black tendril, thin as a thread, flicked out from beneath its mask, tasting the air.

It moved fast. Too fast.

Ethan dodged its strike, sidestepping the rusted blade that cut through the air. He swung the broken bone in his hand, but it shattered uselessly against the Remnant's shoulder.

The creature barely reacted, twisting unnaturally and slicing across his chest with its jagged blade. Pain tore through him—hot, burning, unnatural.

[HP -20]

[Poison Status: Tainted]

The wound festered instantly, the flesh around it turning sickly green. Ethan staggered, gasping for breath. He could feel the poison creeping through him, cold and relentless. He was going to die. Again.

But not here. Not like this.

His eyes scanned the street, landing on a pyre in the distance. Without thinking, he charged toward it.

The Remnant hesitated, confused by his sudden direction change. It was all the time Ethan needed. He grabbed a burning piece of wood, the flames searing his skin. The pain barely registered as he charged back, thrusting the burning end into the Remnant's mask.

The creature screamed—a horrible, unnatural noise—before it staggered back, convulsing. The dark energy inside it flickered and sputtered. Its arm twisted at an impossible angle before it collapsed, the ichor from its body pooling on the ground.

[Ashen Remnant slain.]

[Runes Acquired: 200]

Ethan dropped to his knees, the wood falling from his hand. His chest burned, the poison spreading faster now, eating him from the inside. The world blurred around him. He could hear the Remnant's mask in his mind, see its bloodied face staring at him. He tasted bile again.

Then, another Remnant appeared. It loomed over him, dripping with gore. Its fingers gripped his hair, yanking his head back.

Before he could scream, the blade flashed across his throat, severing it with a sickening slice. Blood poured from the wound. He couldn't breathe. His vision swam as his life drained away.

The Remnant's empty mask hovered close, studying him, before its hand plunged into his chest and ripped out his heart.

And then, the golden light.

THE SITE OF GRACE

The pain was gone. The poison purged. He was whole again.

But was he?

Ethan opened his eyes to the familiar warmth. He should've been grateful. He was alive. But something had changed. Something inside him was breaking. The constant cycle of death and rebirth was eating at his soul, leaving only fragments of the person he once was.

He was no longer sure if he was fighting to survive—or to escape the nightmare that was turning him into something worse.

He stood, his legs shaking, and stepped back into the city. The red-tinged gloom pressed in on him again, the stench of decay thick in the air. The Remnants shuffled through the shadows, their hollow eyes searching.

He was ready.

Or at least, as ready as he could be. The city had already taken so much. And the worst part was, he was starting to think it might take him too.

But he'd survive. He had to.

At all costs.