The mountain wind lashes your face as you descend, victory still burning in your chest like the fire you just conquered. But as the clouds part and the land below comes into view, your triumph turns to ash.
The village smolders. Roofs lie broken, charred beams jutting like ribs from the earth. Smoke coils skyward, black against the pale morning, and within it—writhing, half-seen—moves a terrible shape. Vast, spectral wings unfurl, translucent yet terrible, and eyes like dying suns glare from the haze.
The Drake Omega’s shadow lingers. Though its flesh was slain, its spirit endures—death itself cannot bind it.
You stumble back into the village square, heart pounding, to find the forge collapsed into embers. Inside, Bryn lies amidst the ruin, his skin burned, his breath ragged. Yet his eyes, still bright with defiance, find yours. He forces a grin, though blood stains his teeth.
“We tried, kid…” he croaks, voice breaking but steady in resolve. “Even in death, the beast won’t let go. But maybe… maybe there’s still a chance.”
His hand twitches toward yours, hot with fever and flame.
“Go. The temple in the city—they deal with spirits, gods, and worse. If anyone can cage a ghost like this… it’s them.”
His body shudders, a final cough shaking him as he squeezes your hand with what little strength remains.
“I’ll see you… on the other side.”
The fire in his eyes fades, his grip slackens, and the last true Dragonslayer is gone.
[Obtain the Mjolnir Legendary Item]
The forge grows silent. The only sound now is the distant roar of the spectral Drake, circling unseen above the smoke.
[Head to the nearest city temple to continue]
The city temple rises above the streets like a beacon of stone and light, its spires catching the sun even through the smoke that still lingers from the village. Inside, the air is thick with incense and the quiet hum of prayer. The priests regard you with a mixture of awe and concern, but when you recount the tale of the Drake Omega and its lingering ghost, their eyes harden with resolve.
“We know of such spirits,” one priest says, voice calm but firm. “And we will help. But understand this—this will not be easy. The curse you must bear will test your body, your mind, and your soul. Only then will you be ready to face what lingers.”
Another steps forward, laying a hand gently on yours. “Go to the nearest swamp or lake. Let its shadows touch you. Let the dark waters mark you. Return to us once you carry the curse, and the path will continue.”
The temple doors open, sunlight spilling onto the worn stones. The journey ahead is foreboding, the waters waiting, but the priests’ faith steadies your steps. The trial begins.
[Come back to the Temple Cursed to continue…]