The sun was a pallid ghost when it rose over the plateau, its light dimmed by a sky still heavy with drifting ash. The ruins of the dead village seemed to shrink beneath its wan glow, houses collapsed into themselves like hollowed skulls, firepits choked with yesterday's embers. Men moved sluggishly among the wreckage, packing gear, tightening straps, and murmuring to one another in voices that barely carried beyond an arm's length. Every one of them looked as if the night had drained something vital, leaving only tired flesh wrapped around brittle bone.
I had not slept at all. I sat through the hours of darkness at the dead well, listening to the creak of beams in the ruined square and the restless turnings of soldiers in their bedrolls. My thoughts circled endlessly, Kael's voice echoing louder than the System's silence. Oaths can break. Just as men can.
By the time the camp stirred to life, I was already standing. My blade was sheathed, my armor strapped though still unpolished, blackened by soot and blood. My men noticed, though none dared to ask why I had not slept. They had learned by now that questions bent like reeds when pressed against me, and most feared what might break if they pressed harder.
Kael stood apart, his silhouette rigid at the edge of the ruins. He looked out over the barren road eastward, toward mountains half-shrouded in morning mist. His back was to me, but I felt the weight of his silence as surely as I once felt the shield he carried at my side.
We moved out before the sun had fully cleared the horizon. The road narrowed again, winding through rock faces jagged as broken teeth. The march was grim and quiet, boots crunching on gravel, packs groaning under weight. I heard only the faint clink of metal and the dry rasp of breath. No songs, no jokes, no chants. Those had been left behind somewhere in the pass.
I walked near the front, eyes scanning the cliffs, but my mind was not with the road. It was with Kael, and with the men. Their silence was more than fatigue. It was suspicion. Doubt had crept into them, silent as smoke, and though they still marched, I could feel the tremor of their faith weakening.
By midday the cliffs opened into a shallow valley. What little greenery might once have grown there was long dead, leaves reduced to dust, trees no more than blackened poles reaching toward the sky. The wind whistled through them like the voices of the forgotten.
We made a brief halt to water what horses remained. The beasts trembled, their ribs stark beneath patchy hides, but they drank greedily from a rivulet that trickled down from the rocks. Men filled their flasks, muttering thanks to gods they barely believed in. I stayed apart, watching them, weighing their movements.
Kael came to me then. His steps were deliberate, his hand loose at his side. His eyes met mine, calm but unyielding.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
"No."
"Because of what I said."
"Yes."
He studied me, and for a moment I thought I glimpsed the Kael I knew, the brother who had once laughed beside me in the halls of the Southern keep. But the shadow of the night before lingered, thick as smoke.
"You know I didn't speak those words to wound you," he said. "But they were truth. If you cannot see it yet, you will."
I clenched my jaw. "Truth is a blade, Kael. It can cut the wielder as well as the enemy."
"Better a cut than rot." His gaze was unwavering. "Better a wound than blindness."
I wanted to answer, but the words twisted in me, strangled by the System's presence. Even silent, it pulsed beneath my skin, a second heartbeat that did not belong to me. I could not admit the truth—not to Kael, not to myself. To speak it aloud would be to give it dominion.
The horn sounded to move. Kael turned away first, rejoining the column. I remained a moment longer, staring into the valley's dead trees. Their branches clawed at the sky, brittle, broken, yet still reaching. I wondered if that was what I had become.
The march resumed, and the valley narrowed until cliffs pressed close again. Shadows deepened though the sun still stood high. My men moved uneasily, hands on hilts, eyes darting to the rocks above as if expecting them to sprout teeth. I felt it too—a presence, faint but pressing, like the air itself carried weight.
Then the System stirred.
[Warning: The Oath Fractures]
Stability of Vessel: Compromised
Integrity Test Imminent
The words burned across my vision, gone as swiftly as they appeared. My steps faltered, though only for a heartbeat. None of the men noticed—or if they did, they pretended not to.
But Kael saw. He always saw. His eyes flicked to me, sharp as knives, and in them was the unspoken question: What now?
We reached a bend in the cliffs where the path widened into a basin ringed by stone. The air grew colder, the wind stilled. Every instinct screamed danger. I raised a hand, signaling halt. The column froze, silence settling like a shroud.
Then the ground trembled.
It was faint at first, a ripple beneath boots, a sigh through stone. But it grew, deep and resonant, until the basin itself seemed to pulse with hidden breath. The men shifted, fear flashing across faces already hollowed by fatigue.
From the cliffside ahead, the stone split. Cracks lanced outward, jagged and glowing faintly red, as if veins of fire ran just beneath the surface. With a groan like mountains grinding together, the rock peeled apart.
From the fissure stepped figures.
At first glance they seemed like men, but their skin was ashen, their eyes hollow pits glowing faintly crimson. Their armor was rusted, their blades blackened. They moved stiffly, yet with purpose, as though guided by a will not their own.
My men recoiled, some raising shields, others clutching charms against evil. Whispers spread like fire through dry grass.
Kael's voice was steady, though edged with dread. "What are they?"
The System answered in my mind before I could speak.
[Integrity Test Initiated]
Opponents: Oathbreakers
Objective: Endure. Or Shatter.
I drew my blade. "They're what happens when oaths die."
The Oathbreakers advanced, their movements jerky but relentless. Swords scraped stone, shields dragged sparks. There were dozens—perhaps more—clawing their way from the fissure. Their hollow eyes fixed on me. Not my men. Not Kael. Me.
"Form ranks!" I shouted. My voice cracked across the basin, snapping the soldiers to motion. Shields locked, spears braced, though their arms shook.
The first of the Oathbreakers struck. Their blades rang against southern steel, the impact jarring through the line. My men held, barely, though fear stank sharp in the air. These things did not tire, did not bleed. Each blow landed with the inevitability of falling stone.
I waded into the fray, my sword carving arcs of steel and bloodless flesh. Each strike cleaved through armor and bone, yet the Oathbreakers fell without sound, their bodies dissolving into ash upon the ground. But for every one cut down, another emerged from the fissure.
The battle became a blur of motion—shields shattering, spears splintering, men screaming as hollow blades pierced gaps in armor. Kael fought near me, his sword flashing with the ferocity of old, his shield arm driving Oathbreakers back in brutal sweeps. He did not look at me, but I felt him there, the same as always—yet not the same at all.
The System's voice whispered through the chaos.
[Endure. Prove the Oath's strength. Or be broken with it.]
I fought harder, every strike fueled not by faith but by fury. My blade became an extension of will, cutting through the faceless dead. Yet the more I killed, the heavier the weight in my chest grew. These were not creatures—they were echoes. Echoes of promises broken, vows abandoned.
And with each one that fell, I wondered: whose oath had I broken?
The battle raged for what felt like hours, though time meant nothing in that basin of ash and stone. At last the fissure cracked wider, and from it stepped a figure larger than the rest.
Its armor gleamed faintly, less corroded, its blade sharp as a mirror of memory. Its face was hidden behind a helm, but I knew it the moment my eyes fell upon it.
Kael froze too, his breath catching.
The figure lifted its blade, and its voice rolled out—not hollow, but familiar.
"Ryon."
My blood ran cold. The voice was Kael's.
Not the Kael beside me, but the Kael I remembered—steadfast, loyal, unbroken.
The Oathbreaker raised its sword, and I knew then that this was no mere foe. This was the System's test given form.
It wanted me to face Kael—not the man, but the bond.
The real Kael shifted beside me, his face pale, his eyes locked on the echo. I could see it in him too: recognition. Horror. And something deeper.
The System whispered, louder now:
[Integrity Test: Strike the Oath. Shatter or endure.]
I tightened my grip on the sword. My heart thundered like war drums. Around me, men screamed, steel clashed, ash rose in choking clouds. But in that moment, all I saw was the Oathbreaker—the echo of Kael.
The brother I had already begun to lose.