Chapter 23 — The Aetherial Crest, End
The silence that followed was heavier than any battlefield. Dust hung unmoving in the air, every stone of the forbidden archives seeming to bow beneath the weight of what had just been claimed.
Sylan lowered his hand slowly, his breath steady despite the torrent that had coursed through him. The Crest's light had sunk into his body, leaving behind no physical artifact—only a gnawing presence that thrummed in his chest, equal parts warmth and frost.
The system pulsed violently in his vision.
[System Update: Attributes Increased.]
Strength: 16 → 29/100
Agility: 18 → 32/100
Endurance: 17 → 28/100
[New Skill Unlocked.]
[Hallowed Divine Abyss]Tier: ???Type: Unique / ParadoxicalDescription:A force born of divinity and abyss, purity entwined with hunger. Grants bearer fragments of monarch's will, allowing reality itself to bend under command.Abilities:– [Combat Manifestation: █████]– [Strategic Insight: █████]– [Corruption Resistance: Active]– [Warning: Further properties remain undisclosed.]
[Note: The Aetherial Crest has fully integrated. Complete understanding is… █████.]
The redacted lines glitched in and out of focus, jagged static crawling over them like cracks in glass. Sylan's crimson eyes narrowed. 'So even the Game doesn't understand what I've taken.'
The Crest stirred inside him, like a living paradox: one heartbeat suffused with divine radiance, the next with abyssal hunger. Its whispers brushed against his thoughts—psalms overlapping with guttural growls—yet neither overcame his will.
Then the archives shook.
It began as a low hum, resonating in the walls, before bursting into a spectacle of impossible force. Light erupted from Sylan, radiant and golden, wrapping him in a mantle of purity. At the same instant, black flame licked upward from his shadow, gnawing at the edges of the chamber. Hymns filled the air, soaring and beautiful, yet beneath them came the low chorus of screams, raw and endless.
The runes carved into the stone flared white, then cracked. Dust rained from the ceiling as the forbidden vaults trembled. For a moment, it felt as though the Crest was rewriting the very foundation of the Noctis estate.
Virelle staggered back, her hands flying to her ears though there was no sound that human flesh should have heard. Her knees buckled, and she dropped down onto the cold floor. Her brown eyes lifted to him, wide and wet, reflecting both terror and reverence.
"M-my lord…" she whispered, voice breaking. "You're… you're not the same…"
The air thickened around her, the weight of monarch's will pressing down until even her breath came ragged. She was nothing before it—nothing before him.
Sylan clenched his fists, grounding himself. 'No. This isn't control. Not yet. This is a storm breaking loose.'
With the iron will of a soldier, he crushed it.
The golden radiance snapped inward. The black flames died with a hiss. The hymns and screams faded into silence. The archives stilled as though nothing had happened, save for the faint cracks spiderwebbing across the walls.
Only Sylan remained, steady as stone, his crimson eyes glowing faintly with the Crest's paradoxical light.
Virelle gasped, tears spilling freely as the crushing weight lifted. She pressed a hand to her chest, trembling. "I thought… I thought I'd be crushed into dust."
He glanced at her, voice calm, flat. "You're still here. That's enough."
The system flickered one final time.
[Arc Objective Complete: The Aetherial Crest has been claimed.][Warning: The Game will adapt.]
Sylan exhaled, the sound slow, deliberate. His body ached faintly, but his spirit burned hotter than ever.
The Game had written him as a disposable villain, a footnote to glorify others. Yet here he stood, wielding a power it could not classify, its system stuttering on redacted lines and corrupted warnings.
He stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the stone, Virelle scrambling to follow at his side. His mind was sharp, his purpose clearer than ever.
'The Game thought me a pawn. Now it will learn what happens when the pawn takes the king's crown.'
The Crest pulsed once in agreement—or perhaps in hunger.
Sylan exhaled, steady and sharp. The Game thought him a pawn, but the Crest's pulse in his chest told him otherwise. He turned toward the exit, boots echoing on stone, crimson eyes burning with a new resolve.
Then the system stuttered.
[System Notice… Error Detected.][Unauthorized Signal Intercepting Channel…]
The panel warped violently, white text bleeding into jagged black strokes.
[Message From: ████████]
Ah… you've taken the Crest.Impressive. Not many pawns walk this far without crumbling.Good. Break yourself free, little soldier. Shatter the Game, piece by piece. Every chain you cut sings to me.
Survive long enough, and perhaps you'll see the hand that placed you here.
The words pulsed once, then dissolved into static.
[Notice Removed. Return to Standard Operation.]
Sylan's jaw tightened. 'So you are watching me.'
Virelle glanced up at him, confusion in her brown eyes. "My lord? What happened?"
"Nothing," he said flatly, already moving again. But inside, the truth burned. The Game wasn't the only one playing. Someone else was moving pieces. Someone who had placed him here.
And now, they were congratulating him.
The Crest pulsed once more in his chest, as if it too had recognized the touch of that unseen hand.