Cel threw himself sideways - far too hard - his enhanced strength launching him across the small space like he'd been kicked. The creature's claws tore through empty air where his chest had been.
His back hit the wall. Stars exploded across his vision.
The creature was already turning, coiling with terrifying speed despite its injuries. No hesitation. No pause.
It came at him again.
Cel swung.
Silent Moon cut through ash-thick air in a wild arc - no technique, no control. The blade whistled past the creature's head, and momentum spun him halfway around.
Claws raked across his back.
Blood sprayed hot across his skin. He staggered forward, teeth clenched against a scream, using the spin to put distance between them.
The creature pressed forward, serpentine body propelling it in a lurching charge.
Cel raised Silent Moon defensively—
The blade was pointing the wrong way. His burned fingers couldn't adjust the grip fast enough.
The creature slammed into him, its remaining arm wrapping around his torso as needle teeth snapped at his face.
They crashed to the ground. Ash exploded around them in choking clouds.
Cel drove his knee up. Lunar Vigor turned the defensive motion into a devastating blow.
Something cracked. The creature's body spasmed, loosening its grip for just a moment.
He rolled, throwing the creature's weight off him. They separated, both scrambling in opposite directions through the ashen air.
His back found the wall. The creature coiled against the far side of the small room.
Both gasping. Both bleeding. Both fighting one-handed - Cel's right arm still dead from frostbite, the creature's torn away entirely.
The storm outside howled through gaps in the ancient walls, filling the space with gray curtains of ash and a constant barrage of stone fragments. The creature was a shifting shadow in the swirling dust, but its eyeless head tracked him with perfect accuracy through the chaos.
It charged again.
Cel lunged forward to meet it, driving Silent Moon straight ahead in the most basic thrust he knew.
The blade went where he aimed.
Steel punched through stone-like skin. Blood erupted hot and thick from the wound..
The creature shrieked - deafening at this distance, that metallic scraping sound drilling directly into his skull. Its claws found his shoulder, sinking deep, using him as leverage to pull itself closer even as Silent Moon's blade remained buried in its chest.
Face-to-face now. That needle-ringed mouth snapped wildly at his face, driven by dying fury.
Cel twisted the blade.
Steel tore through internal organs. The creature's shriek reached a pitch that made his ears ring as its entire body convulsed.
Two more crescents ignited along Silent Moon's length.
Six now.
The resistance disappeared.
Cel wrenched it sideways with all his strength - too much strength. The blade carved through the creature's insides, opening a wound from chest to side that should have been impossible with a straight blade.
The creature's shriek cut off mid-sound.
Its claws loosened their death grip. The eyeless head tilted forward, almost gentle, before the entire body went slack.
Dead weight collapsed against him.
Cel staggered backward as the creature slumped to the ash-covered floor, its serpentine body going slack in a final, loose coil.
The storm continued to rage outside, ash swirling through gaps in the ruined walls. Wind howled through the broken stone. But the shrieking had stopped - replaced only by Cel's ragged breathing and the steady drip of blood.
His left arm shook. Not from exhaustion or pain, but from the aftershock of violence.
He'd killed it.
His first real fight since gaining these powers, and he'd won. With no skill. No control. Just raw strength, divine steel, and the stubborn refusal to die.
Cel stared at the corpse. At the hole he'd carved through its chest. At the dark ichor pooling beneath it.
His legs gave out.
He sat hard on the ash-covered floor, Silent Moon still gripped in his left hand. The blade's six crescents pulsed with steady white light, casting pale reflections across the creature's lifeless form.
The shaking spread from his arm to his shoulders, his chest. Adrenaline drained away, leaving cold clarity in its wake.
He'd always known this moment would come. Known it the instant he'd decided to survive that cell. Known it when he'd sworn revenge against his father, his family, the cultists. Killing wouldn't be optional - it would be necessary. He'd accepted that truth months ago.
But there was a difference between knowing and doing.
Now he'd done it.
And he'd found himself... capable.
Disturbingly capable.
He was alive. The creature was dead. Simple as that.
The satisfaction that followed was immediate and uncomfortably pure. Not joy. Not triumph. Just the cold recognition that he'd won and the thing that tried to kill him hadn't.
But his hands kept shaking.
Not from fear of what he'd done. From the realization of how easy it had been. How natural the violence had felt once he'd committed to it. Like something that had always been there, just waiting for permission.
Cel's breath came in short gasps. The walls seemed to press closer. The ash in the air grew thicker.
He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe. Slow. Steady. The way Selina had breathed when she'd held him - measured, patient, real.
The shaking gradually subsided.
When he opened his eyes again, the creature was still dead. Still bleeding. Still very much proof of what he'd become.
This was what survival looked like now. Not hiding. Not enduring. Not waiting for rescue that would never come.
Killing.
No grand meaning. No divine purpose. Just violence meeting violence until one side stopped breathing.
He was no longer prey. And there was no going back to what he'd been before.
Silent Moon dissolved into moonlight threads as he dismissed it.
The storm's roar began to fade. Not suddenly, but gradually - like a beast growing tired of its rampage. The howling wind dropped to a moan, then to whispers. Ash settled in lazy spirals instead of blinding walls.
He waited, watching the gaps in the ruined walls. Watching the gray curtains thin and part. Watching until the world outside grew still again.
When the last echo of the tornado faded to nothing, Cel remained seated against the wall, letting his battered body rest.
His gaze swept the ash-covered floor until something caught his eye - a silver gleam right beside him. Silver light played across its surface, emanating from within.
He reached out and picked it up.
The coin was perhaps the width of two fingers across, lighter than it looked. One side bore the mark of the Moon Goddess - the one that was once on his back too before his father ripped it off. The other side showed a crescent moon cradling what might have been stars, or perhaps souls.
It thrummed with power against his palm - not the violent energy of the crystal maze or the seductive warmth of the sphere, but something steady. Patient. Eternal as the moon itself.
Cel turned it over slowly in his fingers.
His education among the Sun Clan had covered divine coins thoroughly, though he'd never expected to hold one himself. Each deity minted their own design, and the coins served specific purposes. Tokens of acknowledgment from the gods.
Every achievement granted one. And with each coin came a choice.
He could use it to awaken an artifact.
The word itself carried weight among the Chosen. Awakening an artifact meant unlocking its full potential - watching it evolve into something greater. Most Chosen described it as getting to know their artifact, though what that truly meant varied. Some even claimed their weapons gained a will of their own. Others spoke of discovering hidden depths they'd never imagined existed.
But the tangible benefits were undeniable. The artifact would rise one full rank in Grace - Blessed becoming Sacred, Sacred becoming Heavenly, Heavenly becoming Holy. And often, new traits or authorities would manifest. Powers that hadn't existed before, born from the bond between Chosen and artifact.
Or he could unlock the Insight. The Ledger of Nightmares.
A book that held knowledge about the rift-creatures of the Hollow Realms, accessible whenever he encountered them. Information that could mean the difference between recognizing a threat and walking blindly into death.
Cel closed his fist around the coin.
Time to see what his first achievement had earned him. And then... he'd decide how to use that coin.
Cel closed his eyes and reached inward, toward the space that existed within him. The world shifted, reality bending—
—and he stood once more in his soul's landscape.
The cracked earth stretched beneath his feet. The mist swirled in gentle currents. And there, waiting as if she'd never left, stood Selina.
Her white robes caught the moonlight streaming from above. Below the silver mask that covered the upper half of her face, her lips curved in a genuine smile.
"Welcome back, Chosen One." Her voice carried genuine warmth. "I felt the moment of your achievement. Congratulations."
The greeting settled over him like a blanket. No pain here - the wounds inflicted in the physical world didn't exist in this space. His right hand worked perfectly, fingers flexing without the numbness of frostbite.
"Thank you." The words came easier than expected.
Selina gestured toward the monolith rising from the mist ahead. "Come. See what you have earned."
Cel followed, anticipation building in his chest despite the exhaustion that weighed on him.
The monolith pulsed with soft light as he approached. Runes appeared across its surface - sharp, angular, beautiful in their precision.
Cel stared at the second artifact's name.
Cinderward.
His focus sharpened on it, and the monolith responded - the runes shifting and rearranging across its surface:
Disappointment struck immediately.
Blessed. The lowest grade. And completely empty - no traits, no authorities. Nothing but base protection.
He thought of Silent Moon. Heavenly grade. Third tier, leagues above what he'd just received.
The contrast was stark. Brutal, even.
"I should see what it looks like," Cel said, more to himself than Selina.
He reached inward, willing Cinderward to manifest.
The response was immediate.
Moonlight bloomed around him - harsh and bright, just like Silent Moon's summoning. The radiance wrapped his body directly, threading through silver streams that wove themselves into a single brilliant cocoon.
Selina stepped back slightly, giving the manifestation space. Her posture held quiet interest as she watched the divine weaving unfold.
The light intensified for a heartbeat—
—then dissipated all at once.
Cel looked down at himself.
The threads had formed not metal plates or chainmail, but layered cloth. He ran his hands down his torso, feeling a fitted greyish tunic as the base layer. Over it, a mantle draped across his chest and shoulders, flowing down his back.
His fingers traced the pale shoulder plates that crowned each shoulder. They held the weight of a long cloak that extended to his knees. He turned slightly, feeling the cloak shift behind him.
He lifted his arms. Dark bracers encased his forearms from wrist to elbow. He flexed his hands, testing their movement. The bracers allowed full range of motion, their protective weight hardly restrictive.
Dark trousers covered his legs. Cel lifted one foot, testing the weight of the armored boots that rose from ankle to knee - actual steel this time, dark and solid. They moved with him as if they'd been worn for years.
The entire ensemble was muted in color - deep charcoal and smoky grays. Worn-looking despite its divine origin.
"It suits you, Chosen One." Selina's voice carried quiet approval. "It will serve you well."
Cel ran his fingers along the fabric of his shirt. The texture surprised him - substantial yet flexible. Nothing like the rough materials he'd worn his entire life, or the blood-soaked rags that had barely covered him moments ago.
"Blessed grade," he muttered.
"Even the simplest gift from the gods surpasses mortal craft." Selina's voice held quiet certainty. "The worth of an artifacts is not always measured in how much power it holds, but in how long it allows you to endure."
Cel flexed his hands, watching the bracers move with his wrists. The armor felt... right. Natural.
He supposed she had a point. As long as it ensured his survival, additional powers didn't matter.
His gaze drifted back to the monolith, to the coin still clasped in his hand.
"Most Chosen spend their first coin on this," he said, gesturing toward it.
"That is the common path," Selina agreed. "And often the wisest. Knowledge is a weapon that never dulls."
Cel studied the monolith, weighing his choices mentally. He could awaken Cinderward - raise it from Blessed to Sacred, give it a chance at developing useful traits or authorities. Or spare it to awaken Silent Moon later on, push an already formidable weapon toward new heights.
But his instructors had emphasized the value of that knowledge. Walking blind into encounters with unknown creatures was how Chosen died, regardless of how powerful their artifacts became. No artifact, no matter how powerful, could compensate for ignorance.
"The practical choice," he murmured.
"Many have survived by making it," Selina said simply.
Cel nodded slowly. The Insight first. Learn what he was facing. Save the other coins for when he better understood which artifacts needed strengthening most.
He approached the monolith and focused on the locked Insight notation. The coin in his hand grew warm, responding to his intent.
"How do I—"
The coin dissolved.
Silver light poured from between his fingers - not violently, but like water through a sieve. The radiance flowed upward, drawn toward the monolith as if pulled by invisible threads.
The runes shifted. Changed.
New text appeared: