However, contrary to the lad's worst expectations, the landing proved surprisingly soft. Whilst still in mid-air, currents of air slowed and turned him. Ayan froze, not daring to exhale, until his bare feet touched the cold surface of the stone floor. His skin responded with strange, painful tingling, as though thousands of tiny shards were piercing his soles.
"Well, how does it feel, lad?" Zhalgaztur bored into him with an attentive gaze.
"Hard to say. Like standing on broken glass. Though... I'm not sure. Never stood on it before. Actually, this is the first time in my life I've stood on my own feet."
A wave of euphoria crashed over him unexpectedly. His heart thundered in his chest, air stuck somewhere in his throat. His eyes fixed on his own legs, as though one blink would make them dissolve.
"So take your first step — what are you waiting for?"
Following the advice, Ayan shifted his weight to his other leg — his muscles immediately shot through with pain. Another step. And another. With each movement his body responded with aching protest, but gradually the pain became more bearable. By the tenth step it no longer inspired fear.
He froze and lowered his eyelids. The world around him dissolved. Only measured breathing and the quiet beat of his heart remained — unusually steady, alive. Cool, slightly damp air slid across his skin, transforming this simple sensation into a small miracle.
His toes tensed, pressing into the stone, creating the sensation of sinking them into lava. His hands cautiously rose, shoulders turned — each muscle responding to his brain's commands. Each new gesture became a discovery, like an infant's first steps. But the pain didn't pass; on the contrary, it seemed only to intensify with each movement.
"That's it," a voice cut through. "Steady. Don't rush. Your body will accept you, don't worry."
He nodded, not wasting breath on words. What was happening was too significant for empty chatter. Ayan simply stood, feeling the world with his whole being — for the first time in eighteen years not through the prism of pain or pity, not as an outside observer, but directly, with his entire existence.
Unfamiliar sensations overwhelmed him, like a wave rising from nowhere and breaking against the shore of consciousness. Every sound, every slightest touch of air against his skin resounded inside deafeningly loud, as though his body had transformed into a resonating cavity.
He heard how beneath his skin, blood flowed through his veins — in powerful, measured surges, pushing life through his vessels, how his lungs drew in air with a faint whistle, filling his chest cavity with coolness, how his heart beat out its uncertain but strengthening rhythm.
Even the light creaking of joints with each insignificant movement — a turn of the head, a bend of fingers — seemed to him something incredibly alive, alien and mesmerising at the same time.
Ayan slowly blinked, and the sound of his own breathing suddenly seemed louder than the noise of wind wandering somewhere in the depths of the cave. Each inhalation echoed in his chest, each exhalation — a whisper, carried off into the darkness.
He took a cautious step — and the echo immediately responded, reflected many times from the stone walls, as though space itself was attentively studying him along with himself, memorising each movement.
The lad desperately tried to concentrate on one thing, but each new impulse — the barely audible rustle of fabric against skin, the crackling of bones when changing position, a light crack, as though water dripped monotonously somewhere nearby — mercilessly broke the thin thread of attention. The world around had transformed into a symphony of sensations he didn't know how to read.
Gradually he stopped understanding where the boundary between his body and the surrounding world lay. Everything merged into a single whole — his breathing, the pulse of blood in his temples, the barely distinguishable sounds of vital activity coming from the man opposite.
"I see you've felt it," a voice sounded, soft and understanding. However, in Ayan's head it amplified many times over.
"Felt what?" the youth asked, trying to catch his quickening breath and somehow make sense of the rushing sensations that threatened to swallow him whole.
"Your Sphere of perception. What else?" A barely noticeable smile could be heard in the man's voice.
His companion added nothing more.
Ayan waited for an explanation, but none came. The silence dragged on, filled only with the distant echo of his own breathing. Instead of explanations, the baksy calmly spoke, and each word seemed to roll across his skin in an invisible wave:
"Keep moving. Keep listening. Study your new body, your organism."
Ayan slowly nodded, feeling how even this simple movement resonated as vibration along his spine. His movements became cautious, as though he were learning anew to control his limbs, but at the same time filled with new, almost childlike curiosity. Each gesture responded inside with a thousand microscopic sensations — as though beneath his skin thousands of tiny sensors had awakened, registering the slightest changes.
He slowly raised his hands before him, observing with almost scientific interest how the muscles beneath his skin rolled in smooth waves, how breathing was reflected in his heart's quickened rhythm, how the sound of his own movement trembled in the air, as though a thin, almost invisible membrane stretched around, capable of transmitting each touch, each impulse. His fingers clenched into a fist — and he heard, no, felt, how tendons tightened, how joints produced a barely audible crunch.
This wasn't simply studying the body — it was becoming acquainted with himself, real, profound.
"Right, I think it's time."
Zhalgaztur's voice sounded quiet, almost ordinary, but in these simple words rang something inexorable.
The man waved his hands slightly, and the world around seemed to come alive, as though someone had simultaneously removed all invisible limiters. The noise began to build like an avalanche — first came the now-familiar rustle, then a rising hum, then unbearable roaring, filling the entire space of the cave, squeezing air from his lungs. Sounds crashed down on Ayan from all sides at once, transforming into a single, deafening cacophony.
Ayan couldn't bear it — he sharply pressed his palms to his ears, trying somehow to muffle the growing noise, but the sounds only intensified, as though passing through him, bypassing physical barriers.
He heard everything. How his heart pounded wildly in panic, reverberating in his temples with heavy strikes. How air passed with effort through his lungs as though through a narrow tube, whistling and rustling with each breath. How blood pulsed in his veins, colliding with their walls, creating a rhythmic rumble like distant surf. Even the light movement of his legs, the barely noticeable shift of weight, resounded in his consciousness like a hammer blow on stone, spreading through his bones with hollow echoing.
His palms burned, as did his ears, to which he desperately pressed them, as though trying physically to hold back his sanity from disintegration. The floor beneath his bare feet had transformed into a red-hot pan — each irregularity in the stone dug into his skin, each crack responded with sharp pain.
The world had transformed into an orchestra — wild, chaotic, uncontrollable, deafening. A symphony in which he himself was both conductor, instrument, and unfortunate listener simultaneously.
Ayan stared at the man with horror and confusion bordering on panic, who seemed to observe him with a barely noticeable, understanding smile, as though patiently waiting for the lad finally to realise what exactly was happening now, what exactly he was trying to show him.
Evidently not receiving comprehension from Ayan, the baksy waved his hands, the tattoos on his body glowed, and the lad soared into the air. His torment stopped at once.
"Before you leave this cave, you must become accustomed to your new body."
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The man's voice sounded calm, but power could be felt in it — as ancient and indisputable as the stone bedrock surrounding them.
"I don't know who you were in your previous life. I don't know what brought your soul here, to this world. But one thing I know for certain — if you try to leave here now, the legacy of your former essence will destroy you before you take a single step beyond this cave."
He paused, watching comprehension slowly settle in Ayan's eyes.
"For now you'll have to accept it. Accept this body and tame your soul's legacies. Live here until you learn to control yourself enough that the world outside won't tear you apart."
His words echoed along the walls, and the cave seemed to respond with a hollow, low sound, as though agreeing with each spoken word.
Ayan raised his gaze, meeting the orc's eyes. Fear and stubbornness battled inside him, but the words spoken sounded too weighty to dispute.
"Any objections?" the man asked calmly, looking straight into him, as though seeing not the body but the essence itself.
Ayan swallowed, trying to find words, but his throat treacherously constricted. For several seconds he simply remained silent, feeling how the cave's cold air settled on his skin.
"No... I understand and gratefully accept your offer," he finally spoke. "If this is the price for life, I'm ready to pay it."
The orc slowly nodded, and on his lips flickered for the first time the entire while a genuine smile — barely noticeable but sincere.
"Well, I had no doubt about your answer," he said. "My name is Zhalgaztur. I am a baksy — a guide for the will of those who cannot speak for themselves, keeper of the link between our world and the world of spirits. You are in my home, in the Cave of Spirits, which stands on the boundary between worlds."
He straightened, and his figure radiated strength and unshakeable will.
"Now we'll begin your preparation," Zhalgaztur continued, his voice becoming more businesslike but not losing its solemnity. "First, the most important thing — detailed analysis of your legacies. I need to understand precisely what your soul brought with it into this world, what echoes of the past live in you. Show me your inner world so I understand what I'm dealing with and how to direct your strength in the right direction."
Ayan felt something constrict inside him. He had no desire to share information about his legacies — not now, not with the first acquaintance, however wise he might seem.
This touched on something too personal, almost intimate — after all, each legacy reflected part of his essence, his pain, his strength and weaknesses. These weren't simply lines in a profile but living scars on his soul, memories he would prefer to keep to himself.
But there was no other way out. If he wanted to survive, to learn to control these cursed passive abilities that threatened to tear him apart from within, he'd have to trust the baksy. He'd have to open up, even if it caused discomfort.
"In for a penny, in for a pound," Ayan thought grimly, recalling one of Rotis's favourite sayings.
He inhaled deeply, feeling the cave's cold air fill his lungs, and mentally commanded the interface to appear. The translucent profile window flashed before his eyes with soft bluish light, casting ghostly reflections — invisible to anyone else — on the stone walls around.
For several long moments he peered into the lines of text, as though looking into a mirror of his own soul, reading familiar but no less frightening descriptions. Then, waving his hand in a short, decisive gesture, he sent the data to the man.
[PLAYER PROFILE]
Basic Information:
— Name: Nullus
— Species: Orc
— Gender: Male
— Level: 0
General Information:
— Health: 93/93
— Mana: 93/93
— Vigor: 43/93
— Fury: 0/27
Primary Attributes:
— Strength: 6
— Stamina: 6
— Fortitude: 6
— Reaction: 6
— Agility: 6
— Perception: 6
— Intelligence: 6
— Spirit: 6
— Concentration: 6
— Luck: 6
Resistances:
— Elements: 20%
— Nature: 20%
— Ether Manifestations: 20%
— Forbidden Magic: 20%
— Frost: 20%
— Mental Magic: 20%
Skills:
— None
Abilities:
— Sphere of Perception
Passive ability
An invisible sphere extends twenty metres in all directions from the body of each sentient being in Seratis. Within its limits, the world responds to will and abilities. The radius of coverage can be increased.
— "One Who Knew Pain"
— "One Who Knew Silence"
— "One Who Knew Anosmia"
— "One Who Knew Darkness"
— "One Who Knew Voicelessness"
— "One Who Knew Solitude"
— "One Who Knew Oblivion"
— "One Who Knew Powerlessness"
— "Aura of the Righteous"
Active ability
Rank: F (Progress 0/100)
Mana: 40
Instant cast
Range: sphere of perception
You allow Ether into yourself for 60 minutes. With each melee attack, you additionally deal 5 points of Ether damage. Only one attacking aura can be active on you at a time.
— "Inevitability of the Punisher"
Active ability
Rank: F (Progress 0/100)
Instant cast, no activation required
Cooldown: 3 minutes
Ether's justice must be served! Upon receiving fatal damage, for 12 seconds you are surrounded by a dome impenetrable to all types of damage and spells.
— "Smart One"
— "Etheric Burst"
Active ability
Rank: F (Progress 0/100)
1 Etheric Light charge
Instant cast
Melee range
Cooldown: 3 seconds
Requires: Melee weapon
Instant Etheric attack consuming Etheric Light and dealing damage depending on number of charges and weapon damage:
1 charge: 40% weapon damage
2 charges: 120% weapon damage
3 charges: 340% weapon damage
— "Strike of the Ether Follower"
Active ability
Rank: F (Progress 0/100)
Mana: 15
Instant cast
Melee range
Cooldown: 3 seconds
Requires: Melee weapon
Instant strike with an Etheric copy of your weapon, dealing 150% weapon damage. Grants you one Etheric Light charge.
— "Verdict of Ether"
Active ability
Rank: F (Progress 0/100)
Mana: 30
Cast time: 2 seconds
Range: sphere of perception
Cooldown: 30 seconds
Instant strike dealing 30 Ether damage. Grants you one Etheric Light charge.
— "Sole Survivor of the Ritual"
Achievements:
— "One of a Kind"
You are the only being at zero level. Just know this.
Titles:
— "Righteous One"
— "Punisher"
— "Chosen of Ether"
Heritages:
— "One Who Knew Pain"
Passive ability
Pain became your companion, and you learnt to meet it without fear. Your resistance to negative effects is increased by 30%.
— "One Who Knew Silence"
Passive ability
Silence became your companion — within your Sphere of Perception not a single sound will escape you.
— "One Who Knew Anosmia"
Passive ability
Anosmia became your companion — within your Sphere of Perception not a single particle of scent will escape you.
— "One Who Knew Darkness"
Passive ability
Darkness became your companion — within your Sphere of Perception nothing can hide from your gaze.
— "One Who Knew Voicelessness"
Passive ability
You never heard your own voice until now, and now it inspires all around you. All experience gained from killing creatures is increased by 10% for all members of your group or raid within 40 metres of you.
— "One Who Knew Solitude"
Passive ability
You know what true Solitude is, and you didn't like it. You can create groups or raids with non-player characters. In case of their death, they will resurrect at the nearest Reincarnation Stele after 24 hours.
— "One Who Knew Oblivion"
Passive ability
You had too much time for knowing your own inner world. You constantly regenerate 5% of your maximum health, mana and vigor every 5 seconds.
— "One Who Knew Powerlessness"
Passive ability
You knew the most terrible sensation that exists, and now nothing frightens you. You cannot be afflicted with loss of character control effects. In case of death, your character doesn't lose experience progress for level, skills and abilities.
— "Righteous One"
Active ability
You committed not a single evil deed in your life. Ether cannot but mark such a feat. You receive the active ability "Aura of the Righteous" and the title "Righteous One".
— "Punisher"
Active ability
You knew the depths of human humiliation. The world broke you again and again — but failed to break you completely. All suffering took form. You receive the new parameter "Fury", the active ability "Inevitability of the Punisher" and the title "Punisher".
— "Smart One"
Passive ability
Much knowledge accumulated in your head. But you possess only theory, without practice. Henceforth your speed of gaining progress in skills and abilities is increased by 20%.
— "Chosen of Ether"
Active ability
Ether perceived in you a conduit of its will. Seratis's fate is fractured, and only one who knew both pain and truth is capable of restoring balance. You receive three active abilities: "Etheric Burst", "Strike of the Ether Follower" and "Verdict of Ether". You receive the title "Chosen of Ether".
— "Sole Survivor of the Ritual"
Passive ability
You are the sole survivor of the Ritual. Your brothers and sisters in misfortune who didn't survive it granted you their strength. Henceforth all your attributes and parameters are increased by 10%, and resistances by 20%.
"Well, well, well..." Zhalgaztur drawled, peering through the information that flashed before him, as though reading not simply numbers and lines but the most intimate essence of the youth's existence. His gaze penetrated deeper than ordinary vision, as though trying to discern secrets hidden between signs and symbols. "And who were you in your previous life, lad? What path did fate lay for you before bringing you here?"
He smiled crookedly, and in this smile could be read a mixture of surprise, respect and something resembling alarm. The baksy's eyes blazed for an instant with unnatural blue fire, as though some ancient power inside him had awakened from long sleep, responding to what he saw.
"If you received such legacies..." The last words sounded almost like a sentence, hanging heavily in the cave's air. The orc's voice became lower, acquiring a prophetic tone. "Ether is rarely so generous without reason. Those who receive much usually must pay much. Or already have paid..."
