Ascension Online: Forsken Path

Reed let the rusted chain slip from his fingers, exhaling sharply. His arms ached, his shoulder still throbbed from where the Fragmented One had torn into him earlier, and his mind was running on fumes. But despite the exhaustion, he was alive.

The shattered remains of the Remnant of the Erased had already faded, leaving behind nothing—no loot, no system rewards, just the weight of survival.

Vael observed him quietly. "You adapted."

Reed rolled his shoulder, testing the pain. "Had to."

Vael's gaze flicked to the spot where the Remnant had fallen. "Most fail the first trial. You relied on your instincts instead of waiting for the system to hand you an answer. That's the only reason you're still standing."

Reed frowned. It was a backhanded compliment, but it wasn't wrong. The fight had forced him to think differently. This wasn't a game where you could just level up and overpower enemies. It was about understanding the rules and bending them in your favor.

New Status Acquired: Forsaken Survivor

You have passed the First Trial. Your existence has stabilized… for now.

Survival Rating: 79%

Reed dismissed the notification and looked at Vael. "What now?"

The armored warrior studied him for a moment before turning toward the ruined pathway leading deeper into the Forsaken Ruins. "If you're serious about surviving, then follow me."

Reed took one last glance at the Hall of the Forgotten, at the fading names on the pillars, then fell into step behind Vael.

The Forsaken's Camp had no comforts, no luxuries—just a cold reality Reed was still adjusting to.

He sat on a worn log, gripping his worn shortsword, feeling its uneven weight. No system-assisted combat, no skill trees, no numerical stats to guide him. Everything was raw. Instinct and technique were the only things that mattered.

Across from him, Elaris stood with her spear resting against her shoulder, watching him with a faint smirk. She had been sizing him up ever since he arrived.

"You've held a weapon before," she noted.

Reed met her gaze. "Something like that."

Vael had mentioned earlier that most Forsaken were plucked from their old lives with no combat experience. Reed had an edge, but it wasn't enough. This wasn't just a game—it was survival.

Elaris twirled her spear lazily. "Good. That means you'll last longer than a day."

She tapped the training circle—a patch of flattened dirt surrounded by jagged stone. "Step in."

Reed didn't hesitate. He needed to understand how combat worked here before he found himself in another life-or-death situation.

Elaris followed, spinning her spear once before leveling it at him. "Lesson one: Forget everything you know about fighting in games."

Reed's grip on his sword tightened. "I already figured that out."

"Good."

She lunged.

Reed barely had time to react—the spear shot forward like a whip, faster than any attack he had seen before. He twisted aside, feeling the air part inches from his ribs. No wind-up, no telegraphed movement.

If he had relied on game instincts, he would have been impaled.

Elaris didn't slow. She shifted, twisting her body as she brought the spear's shaft toward his face.

Reed raised his sword to block—but the moment he did, Elaris stepped forward, kicking him square in the chest.

He stumbled backward, his boots skidding through the dirt.

"Lesson two," she said, rolling her shoulders. "Fights aren't clean. If you think blocking a strike is enough, you'll be dead before your second breath."

Reed wiped dust from his mouth, exhaling sharply. She wasn't just strong—she was testing him.

His mind adjusted. If blocking wasn't an option, he had to do something else.

Elaris lunged again. This time, Reed didn't move the way she expected.

Instead of dodging left or right, he stepped in.

Her eyes flickered with surprise for a fraction of a second. That was all he needed.

He deflected the spear's tip with the flat of his sword, closing the distance. Elaris's greatest strength was reach—but up close, she had less room to maneuver.

Reed stepped into her guard, pivoting his blade toward her torso.

Before he could strike, she twisted her spear, locking his sword between the shaft and her arm.

Then she swept his leg.

Reed hit the ground hard, his sword flying from his grip.

Elaris laughed. "Not bad."

Reed groaned. "That was bad."

Oris's deep chuckle came from outside the circle. "Better than most."

Elaris extended a hand. Reed took it, pulling himself up.

She smirked. "You think differently than the others. That might save you."

Reed exhaled, grabbing his sword from the dirt. If nothing else, he was learning.

As the sun faded into a burnt-orange glow, Reed leaned against a broken pillar, drinking from a waterskin.

His body ached. Every part of him had been pushed to its limit during training—dodging, countering, adapting.

Oris sat across from him, sharpening a massive greatsword. "Your movements are too rigid."

Reed raised an eyebrow. "I thought I did alright."

"You did." Oris examined the edge of his blade. "But this isn't a fight for control. It's a fight for survival. You hesitate when you think too much."

Reed rolled his shoulder, feeling the soreness settle into his bones. "I hesitate because I don't know how this world works yet."

Oris nodded approvingly. "Then learn fast."

A low horn echoed in the distance, cutting through the evening air.

Reed sat up. Around the camp, the other Forsaken stiffened.

Vael strode toward them, his expression unreadable. "Scouts just returned."

Elaris approached from the training grounds, gripping her spear. "Trouble?"

Vael's gaze met Reed's.

"The ruins won't stay quiet forever," he said. "We have company."

Reed followed Vael and the others to the edge of the camp, where a crumbling tower overlooked the mist-covered ruins.

Two scouts—a lean man with twin daggers and a hooded woman carrying a bow—stood at attention.

The scout with the daggers spoke first. "Something's moving near the lower ruins. They aren't Fragments."

Reed tensed. "Players?"

The bow-wielding scout shook her head. "No. Something else."

Vael's expression darkened. "Show me."

They climbed to the highest part of the tower. Beyond the ruins, at the edge of the mist, shadows shifted.

Figures—tall, hunched, and unnatural. Their bodies seemed incomplete, flickering between solid and incorporeal.

New Threat Detected: The Hollowborn.

Reed's grip tightened on his sword.

Elaris whispered, "They shouldn't be here."

Reed glanced at her. "You know what they are?"

Vael answered instead. "They are what comes next."

The Hollowborn stood at the edge of the ruins, their movements slow, like they were waiting.

Then—one of them turned its head.

For the first time since arriving in this forsaken world, Reed felt something staring back.

Warning: A Hollowborn Warden has Marked You.

You have been seen.

Reed's stomach twisted. "What the hell does that mean?"

Vael exhaled. "It means you don't have much time before they come for you."

New Objective: Survive the Hollowborn Hunt.

The figures at the mist's edge began to move.