Path of BlooDld

The wind blew the ashes of the past battle. The serpent's corpse still bled, but Ashen didn't look back. His eyes stared into endless darkness, his body half-buried in the ground, skin cracked, veins exposed, and a fire boiling inside him.

"If I don't harden this body... I'll be killed from within, not by an enemy."

He whispered it to himself and began to crawl. Each movement was a drag, every inch agony. No clear destination—only a gut instinct pulling him north, toward a particular rock… though he didn't know why.

With the first dim ray of a colorless sun, he found it.

A wall.

Carved into a slanted stone, as if it were the entrance to a cave forgotten for thousands of years. Above it, a handprint—split in two—and frozen blood still clung to its edges, pulsing like veins… calling to him.

Ashen approached and reached out with his trembling hand. He touched the stone.

A scream inside his mind.

An explosion of images. Bones breaking, bodies burning, men screaming as they tore themselves apart. Primitive techniques shattered and buried. And a child… laughing amid it all.

Then, a sentence appeared, etched into the stone:

"He who does not harden his bones will be buried soft."

Suddenly, the stone veins began to move, drawing the first image.

A human skeleton sitting upright, arrows pointing to its bones: skull, chest, forearm, thigh.

Beneath it, symbols. Not words… but steps.

Ashen recoiled, hesitated, then whispered:

"This… is a technique..."

As he hesitated, the wall began to fade… as if it refused to be revealed to the undecided.

He shouted with a hoarse voice:

"I… want it!"

The stone stabilized, and blood began to pour from his palm, absorbed directly into the wall.

Then he heard the voice:

"You are not ready… but there is no time to wait."

And light engulfed him.

Heat. Then pain.

Indescribable pain.

The technique wasn't engraved into his mind… but into his bones. As if every part of his body was being rewritten with a blade.

He collapsed, screaming and thrashing. His skin peeled, muscles contracted, and his blood restructured.

All of it… so he could receive the technique: Primitive Body Hardening.

When the pain subsided, his body had changed.

Tougher. More stable. Still weak, but no longer fragile.

He lifted his head with difficulty.

"I didn't grasp all the steps… but I got the framework."

Then he looked at his hand… and saw something strange.

Fine black lines appeared beneath the skin, as if etched there.

"A mark from the technique?"

He didn't finish the thought.

From deep within the cave… a sound.

Footsteps.

Light, but real.

He turned his head. No one.

But the darkness was deeper than any human could perceive.

Then, on the wall behind him… a new sentence was written. It hadn't been there before:

"He who opens the first door… is watched."

His heart clenched.

Then a whisper… in his ear, though he was alone:

"You are only at the beginning… but we see you."

Ashen couldn't move.

His body felt heavy, and a hidden dread stirred inside him.

But he smiled.

"Let them watch… I will not die soft

."

And he closed his eyes.

The cave… shut its stony mouth behind him, as if it had never existed.