Long before the age of cultivation, in a primitive world where magic was still myth and strength belonged to steel and will alone, there lived a drifter known only as Vaelith the Hollow.
A man obsessed with the unknown, Vaelith spent his life wandering cursed ruins, forbidden tombs, and ancient battlefields where whispers of forgotten power lingered.
Over decades, he slowly absorbed a strange, invisible force—what was later known as essence—by meditating near the decaying remains of long-dead spirits.
It was not a technique, nor a conscious process. Just madness, time, and exposure.
After years of torment, he did the impossible: he opened humanity's first Essence Gate and unknowingly formed a branded core—one born from a malicious, ancient spirit!
He was the first human seeker to ever exist!
But he told no one. He hid his transformation. His abilities grew monstrous, yet he kept silent.
Only upon his death, through a chilling letter written in his final moments, did the truth emerge.
By the time Vaelith's death note surfaced generations later, the world had already changed.
Inspired by rumors and clues of his power, future seekers began experimenting with essence, developing structured methods to absorb, store, and refine it.
Techniques were formed. Factions arose. Essence beasts were hunted, and cultivation bloomed. But Vaelith's letter served as a dark warning.
In it, he confessed that the essence he had absorbed was not pure. It had belonged to a vengeful spirit, twisted and malevolent.
His branded core, while powerful, had poisoned his mind over time. He became addicted to essence—dependent on it, even afraid of what he would become without it.
The man the world once called a pioneer had ended his days alone, insane, and terrified of the very power he unlocked which turned him into a bloodthirsty beast.
From Vaelith's tale, the term Gatefallen was born—those who lose control of their cores, twisted by corrupted essence or their own greed.
While Vaelith was the first, he would not be the last. In time, others followed, either by mistake or lust for power.
The Gatefallen—popularly known as fallen—became monsters in body or mind, enslaved to the hunger their cores demanded.
Some roam the world in madness, others plot in shadows, still lucid but broken.
And now, one such creature was heading their way!
Kael stood perfectly still, the wind teasing his bare chest as dust swirled around his boots.
Helga stood nearby, tense and coiled like a panther ready to spring, her eyes locked on him for orders.
But Kael? He wasn't panicking. He didn't do panic. Fear was a luxury for people who had options.
Kael Draven was a man forged in chaos, baptized in betrayal, and raised by the streets. This kind of situation wasn't new. It wasn't even impressive. If anything, it was… mildly annoying.
While Helga checked the surroundings for incoming threats, Kael's mind was already moving faster than any beast.
There were only two real options here, and both came with a price tag. The first was simple—run. Grab what little they had, vanish into the hills, and start over somewhere else.
It was safe, sensible and cowardly.
The second option, however, was far riskier: stay, hold the line, and protect the hideout.
Not because he was sentimental. Oh no, Kael couldn't care less about rocks and broken walls.
But this place—the valley, the caves, the hidden passageways—it was strategic gold. Even with all its scars, the Crimson Maw's location was nothing short of genius. And Kael had plans. Big ones.
The hideout sat nestled in the heart of the Crimson Maw Valley, a place twisted and carved by nature's hands into a fortress no army could easily breach.
The surrounding cliffs created a natural chokehold, perfect for funneling enemies into tight corridors.
Above, the jagged ridges were ideal for archers or lookouts. Below? That was where the real treasure lay: the Sonium mine.
Kael didn't remember much, but the memory of shimmering black-blue stone embedded in the walls of the caves had stuck.
Sonium was quite rare, powerful, and valuable. Essential for forging essence-conductive weapons and enhancing core development.
With that mine, he could equip any army. He could build a source of wealth!
But all of that would be dust if the Fallen got here first.
Helga's voice snapped him back. "Master, we have to move. Now. He's close."
"How close?" Kael asked, his tone calm like a man asking about the weather.
"Too close," she said, eyes hard. "The surveillance formations we left behind… They're activating one by one. He's already past the ridge. Based on his speed, I estimate he's at least a Second Gate Fallen. Maybe worse."
Kael's brow twitched slightly. A Second Gate? That meant whoever was coming wasn't just strong, they were monstrous.
Fallen weren't normal anymore. Not after the corrupted essence drove their minds into madness.
A single one could wipe out a battalion of normal people, and worse, they never got tired. They didn't feel pain or fear or hesitation.
If that thing reached this base, it wouldn't just kill and devour the last remaining survivors, it would claim the whole base as its nest!
It would turn this valley into its lair, infect the very earth with twisted essence, and once that happened? There was no going back. Any chance of using this place would be lost forever.
Kael hated losing valuable things.
Still, he wasn't a fool. He looked around the battered walls, the broken essence cannons and the shattered war banners of the old Crimson Maw.
This place wasn't ready yet. Not for a fight like this. Not with just the two of them.
As much as it burned in his chest, Kael knew he had to let it go for now. Sometimes, survival wasn't about standing tall. It was about bending just enough to not break.
He turned to Helga with a curt nod. "We leave. Pack light, we move silent."
Helga blinked in surprise. "You're serious?"
"Always. Never doubt me again."
And just as he took the first step toward the exit, something sharp stabbed into his skull. A memory that suddenly popped up in his head.
Kael's eyes widened in delight.
"Oh, you sneaky bastard…" he muttered to himself, a grin spreading slowly across his lips.
Helga blinked. "What?"
Kael's voice dropped to a thoughtful murmur, mostly to himself. "There's more to this place than just stone and rock. There's a reason the old Crimson Maw made this their home. I almost forgot…"
He turned around, his eyes blazing now with purpose. The retreat had just been canceled.
He burst through the crumbling training yard like a storm barely contained in human skin.
His boots slammed against the cracked stone floor as he made his way toward the edge of the high platform, his long hair fluttering behind him like wings made of shadows.
From this vantage point, the valley stretched wide below, revealing the full extent of the chaos and ruin.
The once-proud base of the Crimson Maw lay in shattered silence.
Broken watchtowers leaned like drunkards, tents had been torn to rags by wind and time, and scorched stone walls were collapsed into piles of rubble.
The stench of death still clung to the air like rotting perfume. Corpses littered the courtyard below; some twisted, others burned, many unrecognizable, and each one had once called him boss.
Kael didn't wince. He didn't grimace. He didn't even sigh. His gaze was flat and cold, sharp as a dagger that had forgotten the meaning of mercy.
But behind those lifeless eyes, his mind was hunting for a spark, a sign, a memory buried beneath blood and dust.
And then he saw it.
A faint, jagged crack in the earth, almost hidden behind a pile of collapsed wood and bone.
It wasn't much, just a narrow crevice stretching like a thin mouth across the center of the settlement but Kael's eyes gleamed the moment he spotted it.
"Helga darling," he said calmly, not even turning around, "here's what I need you to do. Dig. I want every chunk of Sonium you can find."
Helga blinked. "What? Now? In this mess?!"
Kael raised a single finger, silencing her before she could spit out another word. "No time to explain. Just dig. I'll handle the rest."
His voice left no room for doubt. It was the voice of a man who didn't make requests, he issued commands like the boss he was.
As Helga leapt down and began moving with terrifying efficiency, Kael stepped off the edge of the elevated platform without a second thought.
His body plummeted toward the ground, but instead of landing like a sack of bricks, he struck the earth with a thunderous thud, cracking the ground beneath his feet and sending up a cloud of dust.
He straightened his back and rolled his shoulders once, eyebrows raised in mild amusement.
"Hmm. Not bad," he muttered, glancing down at his hands. "No Gate open, and I'm still strong enough to not shatter kneecaps just by falling."
He didn't have time to admire himself for long. All around him were the mangled bodies of his old comrades; men and women who had once robbed, pillaged, laughed, and drank beside him.
Kael didn't stop to say goodbye. He didn't whisper prayers.
He grabbed the first corpse by the ankle, uncaring that the man's head was barely hanging on, and dragged him across the ground like a sack of potatoes.
One by one, he moved the bodies, stacking them in a neat ring near the crevice, their blood soaking into the ground.
Some were missing limbs, others had clearly exploded from the inside, and one poor bastard looked like he'd been chewed on by something very impolite.
Kael didn't flinch. He'd seen worse during brunch in his past life.
Soon, the circle was ready. Kael ripped a strip of fabric from one of the cleaner corpses, tied it to a stick, and dipped it into a thick pool of blood.
Then, like an artist with very disturbing hobbies, he began to draw.
Lines, symbols, curves, he moved with surgical precision, every stroke connecting to the next like a hidden language.
This wasn't random. This was a formation buried in his memory, ancient and forbidden. Something that hadn't been used since before the factions started pretending they were civilized.
By the time he was nearly finished, Helga returned, her arms full of glowing, blue-white chunks of Sonium that shimmered like frozen lightning.
Her eyes were wild with confusion. "What in the hells are you doing with the corpses?" she hissed.
"Science," Kael said with a wicked grin. "The kind of science that makes explosions and pisses off ghosts."
Helga gave him a look like he was the last sane person in an insane asylum, which was fair, given the blood art happening at his feet. Still, she dropped the Sonium without question.
Kael pointed to the crevice. "In there. All of it."
She hesitated for less than instant, then she shoved the rocks down into the crack like stuffing ingredients into a cursed turkey.
And that was when they heard it.
ROAAAAARRRRRRR!
The sound wasn't just loud, it was wrong. It was like hearing metal scream while being dragged across bone.
Both Kael and Helga turned slowly, dread crawling up their spines. Far off in the distance, just past the western ridge, shadows began to move.
Something fast. Something huge. Something hungry for blood!
"The Fallen," Helga whispered, her voice tight with fear.
Kael didn't speak. He stood there, covered in blood, surrounded by the corpses of his dead gang, staring out toward the incoming storm.
A grin slowly stretched across his face. It was dark, wild and utterly fearless. If death wanted him, it had better send someone stronger.
After all, he was a man that followed a gospel. The gray gospel.
Rule one: Everything is a weapon if you're desperate enough—and smart enough.