Even after the dust of the Trial settled, Throy could feel the weight of it in the air—the iron in his chest, the fire in his limbs. The ache of victory wasn't just soreness. It was awakening.
But victory came at a price.
The Iron Vow had been reassigned.
Not to rest.
Not to celebration.
But to the Stormfang Barracks—a place within the Drassos Cradle few reached, and even fewer survived.
The barracks stood apart from the others. Built from black stone quarried from the Ashen Spires, its walls bore old Spartan runes and banners. The symbol of the Stormfangs—a two-headed wolf crowned in flames—loomed high above the entrance.
As the Iron Vow stepped through the gate, they were greeted not by cheers, but silence.
Rows of older trainees—Stormfang initiates—watched them with veiled contempt. Their armor was sleeker, heavier. Their tattoos were symbols of blood-earned honors. These weren't children. They were future Spartheon Warlords.
A tall, silver-haired woman stepped forward, wearing a half-cape pinned with obsidian fang clasps. Her eyes were like the sea during a storm—distant, deep, and dangerously unreadable.
"You're the ones who broke Vekar," she said.
Throy stepped forward. "We are the Iron Vow."
She looked them over with a frown. "Then vow to live. Most don't."
Their new quarters were small but fortified—stone walls, raised sleeping platforms, a single firepit in the center. No comfort. Only function.
The Iron Vow sat around the fire after unpacking.
"Feels more like a prison than a reward," Elarin muttered.
Kel added, "I stitched a kid's leg on the field today. Didn't get a word of thanks."
Tharn grinned, running a whetstone along his training blade. "Means we're close. They don't hate you unless you're worth hating."
Throy wasn't listening. Not really.
System Notification
Trial Rewards Processed
• Title Updated: Commander of Embers
• Squad Buff: Iron Bond – Active
• Bonus Trait Detected: "Strategic Instinct I"
→ +5% effectiveness to battlefield formations
New Objective Line Available
[Forge A Legacy: Survive the Stormfang Trials – Progress: 0/5]
Warning: You are now under direct observation by Elite Path Oversight.
Missteps may result in system lockdowns or trait reductions.
He rubbed his temple. Oversight? That was new.
Later that night, Throy couldn't sleep. He sat outside the barracks under the twin moons, staring at the massive training arena below—a ring of fire-lit sand where elites sparred long past midnight.
He wasn't alone.
A figure stood beside a spear post, watching the same arena.
The silver-haired woman.
She spoke without turning. "Your system's awake. I can smell it."
Throy tensed.
"You're not the first," she continued. "And not the only one."
He turned slowly. "You have one?"
"No," she said. "But I trained one. Years ago. He grew stronger than anyone expected."
"…What happened to him?"
Her jaw tightened. "He forgot what made him human."
She finally turned to face Throy.
"Whatever power you think you've unlocked, remember this: The system serves you. Not the other way around. If you start choosing shortcuts—killing when you could lead, dominating when you could guide—your growth won't be strength. It'll be rot."
She stepped closer.
"Do you understand?"
Throy nodded. Slowly.
"Good," she said. "Because the next trial begins tomorrow. And if you hesitate, if you act like a child playing at command…"
She pointed at the training arena.
"You'll be buried right there. Next to the others who thought talent was enough."
System Notification
Character Flag Raised: Moral Divergence Path Initiated
→ You are being tracked for alignment evolution.
Three Paths Identified:
• Merciful Flame – Power through unity, protection, and sacrifice
• Judgment of Iron – Righteous conquest and order through strength
• Path of Dominion – Ruthless ambition; power for power's sake
Your choices from now on will shape not only your strength, but the world around you.
The next morning came too quickly.
A new arena. New weapons. And a message burned into the sand by flame powder:
"Lead… or be forgotten."