SSS-RANKED Awakening: Supreme Fate-breaker System

And on it…

Nothing.

Until he stepped forward.

Then, with a whisper of movement, a figure rose from the throne.

It wore no armor. No face. No flesh.

It was made of chains, suspended in midair, held together by a soul-flame not unlike Ethan's own.

The Trial had begun.

Many of them had refused to speak at all in the first day after the takeover. Not out of fear—but reverence. Kaeryx's mere presence had overwhelmed their spirits, crushed the pride they wore like armor. They weren't just defeated—they had been humbled. Now, they obeyed quietly, bowing their heads when Ethan passed, whispering to one another in Draconic tongues that even the other scouts couldn't understand.

Ethan turned away from the balcony and stepped back into the chamber.

David stood at the table with a group of his trusted scouts, poring over maps that were beginning to resemble something usable—a tangled, patchwork understanding of the Labyrinth's topography. Orcs, minotaurs, humans, even a few silent elves sat cross-legged on the floor, sharpening blades or etching glyphs into armor.

"Three nights," Ethan said at last, his voice breaking the silence. "That's how long we'll hold here before we move."

David looked up. "You're thinking of pressing on already?"

"We didn't come here to stop halfway," Ethan replied. "Every Sanctum conquered, every Rune Stone claimed—it gets us closer to the core. And the deeper we go, the less forgiving this place becomes."

He glanced at the crimson-stained cloth on the edge of the table—still wet from the blood he had offered the Rune Stone just nights ago.

The Sanctum had accepted him.

And yet, he felt no triumph.

Only pressure.

Only weight.

The others watched him, quietly listening.

Ethan's eyes flicked to the towering figure standing near the shadows—Kaeryx. Though it did not speak, its burning pupils met his gaze in solemn approval. Ethan didn't need to hear words. He could feel the dragon god's will press against his own soul like an invisible weight. It was awake now, more lucid than ever since they'd first bonded.

And it wanted more.

"How long until the Sanctum's outer defenses are fully integrated?" Ethan asked, turning to one of the dragonkin lieutenants who had knelt when summoned.

The drakekin swallowed his nerves. "By sunrise tomorrow, My Lord. The crystal veins that power the flame barriers have already been adjusted to your command. The scent runes have been altered as well. Your allies can now walk freely without being marked as intruders."

"Good," Ethan said. "And the scouts?"

"Four squadrons set out at dawn," David answered. "Two north, two east. They'll sweep until contact or three days. No skirmishes unless absolutely necessary."

Ethan nodded, then leaned on the table, both palms flat against the worn, scaled surface. The Sanctum's architecture was distinctly reptilian—ridges and curves that mimicked wings and claws, fire channels that glowed dimly along the walls. "We need more information. This place is deeper than Grosh'ka, and we were lucky the dragonkin recognized Kaeryx. But the next sanctum might not be so generous."

A voice chimed in from the side—a small, pale elf with light-green runes tattooed across his throat. His voice always sounded like a whisper carried on wind. "You suspect resistance?"

"I expect it," Ethan replied. "The deeper we go, the more powerful the factions become. We'll need more than intimidation."

Another scout raised a hand, eyes wary. "What about the Sanctum's soul flame? Did the guardian spirit pass anything onto you?"

Ethan hesitated.

He hadn't spoken about what he'd seen at the core.

The Guardian of this Sanctum hadn't just fought. It had tried to speak. Through screeches and echoes, it warned him of what lay deeper.

"Darkness feeding on destiny." That was what the echo had whispered as Ethan bled into the Rune Stone.

He wasn't sure if it was a metaphor or a literal threat, but it had stayed in his mind ever since.

"…No," he said after a moment. "Only the usual resistance. It didn't expect to lose."

David gave him a long look but didn't press further. He could tell something was being left unsaid—but he trusted Ethan enough to know it would come out eventually.

Later that night, Ethan stood once again on the tower's edge.

Below, fires flickered in disciplined rows across the dragonkin encampment. There was no joy in their celebration. Only awe. Respect. Submission. The scouts, too, were finally resting. Laughter—cautious and faint—could be heard from the inner halls. The first warmth of true unity was beginning to grow.

Kaeryx loomed nearby, perched upon the broken edge of the Sanctum wall, its wings curled like an ancient throne.

"You've grown quiet," Ethan murmured, glancing up at the beast.

Kaeryx said nothing.

But in the back of Ethan's mind, a wordless feeling passed—a sensation like a heartbeat echoing through stone.

"Deeper," it pulsed.

Ethan clenched his fist.

He'd expected power. He'd expected blood. But not this feeling. This awareness of something vast beneath it all. Of something that even Kaeryx feared. The Labyrinth was not merely a test of strength—it was a puzzle crafted by ancient gods, and they were stepping through its layers blind.

But he couldn't stop now.

He wouldn't.

"Three nights," he whispered to himself again. "Then we march."

The wind howled from the distant cliffs as if the Labyrinth itself had heard his vow.

Day One After the Claiming

When Ethan returned to the main chamber the next morning, the atmosphere had shifted. The scouts were more relaxed now, leaning against pillars, exchanging quiet banter with the dragonkin soldiers. Food was being passed around—thick meat, charred over the Sanctum's volcanic forges, spiced with unfamiliar herbs that left a warm numbness on the tongue.

Even Ethan had to admit—it was good.

For a moment, things felt normal.

Kaeryx rested deeper within the Sanctum now, coiled around the Rune Stone chamber like a serpent god at rest. Its presence still pervaded the walls like a slow pulse, a pressure that never fully lifted, but for now, it slept—or meditated.

Ethan took a seat at the long stone bench carved from obsidian and scaled hide. David sat beside him, finally taking off his armored gauntlets.

"So," David said, biting into a seared strip of drake meat. "You going to tell me what really happened at the Rune Stone?"

Ethan raised a brow.

"You know what I mean. You came out looking like you'd seen death stare back."

Ethan didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked across the open-air court where some of the younger scouts were sparring with the dragonkin soldiers. The drake-blooded warriors weren't just teaching technique—they were showing respect. As if they already accepted a change of rule was not just inevitable, but natural.

"I didn't see death," Ethan finally said. "But I saw something worse."

David stopped chewing.

"There's something in the core," Ethan continued. "Not just power. Not just spirits. Something old. Something that doesn't belong."

David narrowed his eyes. "A soul entity?"

"No. It's not living. It's not dead either. But… it's waiting. And it's watching us."

A silence passed between them.

Then David spoke quietly, "And you're still planning to head deeper?"

"Of course." Ethan looked him dead in the eye. "Because whatever it is—it's not going to stay asleep forever."

Later that Day

The dragonkin elders, once proud and aloof, now approached with reverent steps. The bloodline suppression had not only cowed them—it had restructured their worldview entirely. To them, Kaeryx was not just a dragon. It was the echo of a god long thought extinct, returned in the form of a bound soulbeast.

And Ethan, its partner, had become something greater than a conqueror. He was the Vessel. The Flamebearer. Words they whispered with awe.

The High Elder—a horned drakekin matriarch named Zaul'tra—stood before Ethan in the Sanctum's central hall, where magma veins glowed softly beneath a glassy floor.

"My Lord," she said, her voice slow and thick with ancient weight. "The sanctum accepts your rule. The young ones have already begun invoking your name in their rites. The old ones prepare songs of Kaeryx's return."

Ethan tilted his head slightly. "I didn't ask for worship."

Zaul'tra's burning eyes flickered. "You did not have to. The blood remembers."

He glanced sideways at Kaeryx, whose tail flicked idly from the shadows. A faint huff of smoke left its nostrils. It neither confirmed nor denied.

Zaul'tra knelt, presenting a long, rune-etched scroll. "This is the record of our sanctum's pact with the Labyrinth. We have protected the Rune Stone for twenty-one generations. Now, it is yours."

Ethan accepted it with a slight nod. "Good. You'll need to keep your warriors ready. This was only the first step."

Zaul'tra bowed lower. "We obey."

The Eve of the Second Night

That evening, the scouts and dragonkin shared food around flame pits—something no one would've imagined just days earlier. The language barrier was thin; many of the dragonkin understood the common tongue, and even those who didn't had begun to pick up phrases. Laughter bubbled from both sides. Jokes were shared. Even sparring matches took on a playful edge.