Chapter 22 – The Whisper Beneath the Blade
The symbol on Sarthak’s palm remained.
A broken black circle.
Tiny enough to hide beneath his sleeve.
Yet…
Every few minutes, it pulsed once.
Like a heartbeat.
Not his own.
⸻
Morning arrived.
Kai was already running around the tavern.
“Sarthak!”
“Hurry!”
“We’re late!”
“For what?”
“The market!”
“We’re buying flour before everyone else!”
Master Borin sighed.
“We’re buying flour because someone used an entire sack trying to make bread.”
Kai looked away.
“…It was only one sack.”
“It was three.”
“…Details.”
⸻
The city had finally recovered after days of rain.
The streets bustled once more.
Merchants shouted.
Children laughed.
Travelers filled the roads.
It almost felt peaceful.
Almost.
Because Sarthak couldn’t ignore the strange warmth coming from his right hand.
Every step toward the city center made the symbol pulse faster.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Something…
Was calling him.
⸻
“Kai.”
“You and Master Borin go ahead.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll catch up.”
Kai frowned.
“Don’t get lost.”
Sarthak smiled.
“I got lost once.”
“That was enough.”
⸻
Without realizing why…
His feet carried him through unfamiliar streets.
Past the market.
Past the temple.
Past the wealthy district.
Eventually…
He arrived before the oldest part of Ashfall City.
Broken walls.
Collapsed houses.
Vines covering forgotten stone.
Hardly anyone came here.
Even the noise of the city faded.
Only silence remained.
⸻
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
The mark suddenly burned.
Sarthak grabbed his wrist.
“What…”
The pain vanished instantly.
A faint crimson thread appeared in the air.
Only he could see it.
It stretched between buildings…
Leading somewhere beneath the ruins.
⸻
He followed.
Every instinct warned him to turn back.
Yet curiosity proved stronger than fear.
The thread ended before an abandoned stone well.
It had long dried up.
No water remained.
Only darkness.
Sarthak looked inside.
Nothing.
Then…
A whisper.
“…Bearer…”
He froze.
Someone had spoken.
“Who’s there?”
No answer.
Only silence.
Again…
“…Bearer…”
The voice wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t even clear.
It felt as though someone whispered directly into his soul.
⸻
He tied a nearby rope around an old pillar.
Then slowly climbed down.
Ten meters.
Twenty.
Thirty.
The air became colder.
Much colder.
At the very bottom…
He landed upon ancient stone.
The well…
Connected to underground ruins.
⸻
The walls were carved with symbols unlike anything he had seen before.
Dragons.
Stars.
Broken swords.
And circles.
Broken circles.
Exactly like the mark on his hand.
His breathing quickened.
“This place…”
“…knows the sword.”
⸻
The deeper he walked…
The stronger the Black Devil became.
Although it remained wrapped behind his back…
He could feel it vibrating gently.
Not violently.
Almost…
Excited.
⸻
Finally…
He entered a circular chamber.
In its center stood a weathered stone statue.
The head had broken away long ago.
Only the body remained.
Yet…
The statue held a familiar weapon.
The Black Devil.
Not similar.
Identical.
Every curve.
Every detail.
Every imperfection.
It was the same sword.
⸻
Impossible.
Master Borin had said legends surrounding the sword were ancient.
But this ruin looked thousands of years old.
How could the same weapon appear here?
⸻
As Sarthak stepped closer…
The symbol on his palm glowed black.
A deep rumble shook the chamber.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
The statue slowly cracked apart.
Not destroyed.
Opened.
Inside…
A crystal floated peacefully in the air.
Dark red.
No larger than an apple.
Its light resembled a beating heart.
⸻
The whisper returned.
Clearer this time.
“Blood…”
“Recognized.”
Sarthak instinctively stepped back.
“What blood?”
He received no answer.
Only another whisper.
“Not chosen…”
“…Inherited.”
His heart nearly stopped.
Inherited?
What did that mean?
He wasn’t from this world.
Was he?
⸻
The crystal suddenly flew toward him.
Too fast to dodge.
It struck the symbol on his palm.
Instead of pain…
Warmth.
The crystal dissolved into crimson particles.
Absorbed completely.
The mark became slightly darker.
Nothing else changed.
Or so he thought.
⸻
His hearing sharpened.
He could hear rats moving behind distant walls.
Water dripping somewhere underground.
Even…
A heartbeat.
Not his own.
Someone else was inside the ruins.
⸻
“Sarthak…”
A familiar voice echoed faintly.
Kai.
He was calling for him.
So was Master Borin.
“They’re looking for me.”
Before he could leave—
A second heartbeat appeared.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
From the darkness beyond the chamber.
Footsteps followed.
One.
Two.
Three.
A tall silhouette emerged.
Its body resembled stone wrapped in rusted armor.
Its eyes burned with pale blue flames.
It carried no flesh.
No face.
Only a helmet.
Ancient.
Broken.
Yet somehow…
Alive.
The creature slowly knelt before Sarthak.
Its rusted fist touched the ground.
A voice echoed from inside the empty helmet.
“Guardian Number Seventeen…”
“…greets the Heir.”
Sarthak’s mind went blank.
“Heir?”
“I think…”
“You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
The Guardian remained kneeling.
“It is impossible.”
“The Blood Seal has awakened.”
“You are the next bearer.”
Before Sarthak could ask another question—
The Guardian suddenly raised its head.
Its blue flames flickered violently.
“Enemies…”
It whispered.
“They have found the sanctuary.”
The walls trembled.
Somewhere above…
The sound of steel striking stone echoed through the ruins.
Someone else…
Had entered the underground city.
And unlike Sarthak…
They knew exactly what they were searching for.
End of Chapter 22