SSS-RANKED Awakening: Supreme Fate-breaker System

Even after the perimeter was set and the scouts dispersed to mark a secure observation radius, Ethan remained at the edge of the clearing, eyes fixed on the looming, glyph-etched ruins.

Wind whispered through the dense foliage around them, and the faint glow of the symbols pulsing along the black stone was strangely rhythmic—like a heartbeat. A breath. A memory, living on long after the body had died.

Ethan finally exhaled, his breath steady but his mind stirring with a storm of questions.

"I want this entire ruin mapped," he said to David, who stood beside him reviewing the crystal slate. "From the arches to the foundation. Any fractures, breaches, unusual mana surges. This isn't just some lost building."

David frowned. "And the scouts?"

"Two rotating shifts. Five hours per shift. No one moves alone. No one touches the glyphs."

David nodded, relaying the order through his communicator stone. The team scattered with practiced efficiency.

Ethan approached the nearest pillar, the one bearing the most prominent set of glyphs. As he extended his hand toward it, the symbols flickered—then shifted.

The lines rearranged themselves.

From indecipherable scrawl, they took on form—an ancient script, yes, but one his mind could just barely understand.

You are not of this world, the glyphs read. But you carry a scar that binds you to it.

Ethan's brow furrowed. "Scar...?"

A second line shimmered beneath the first.

If you awaken the glyphs, you awaken the pact.

"Pact with what?" he murmured, but the glyphs dimmed, retreating back to dormancy.

He turned to Kaeryx, now perched silently above the treetops, golden eyes narrowing.

"Anything?" Ethan asked.

The dragon's voice buzzed within his mind. Something ancient sleeps here. I feel its breath beneath the stone. But it does not wish to wake.

Ethan folded his arms. He'd encountered dozens of dungeon cores, strange beasts, and warped terrain, but this ruin carried a different weight. The Labyrinth felt alive, yes, but this place? This place had memory. Intent. Layers of history buried beneath veils of time.

He paced back toward the main gate of the ruin, where a path of crumbling stone steps descended into a sunken chamber. He summoned a small orb of light—just enough to reveal the steps. Then turned back.

"David, I'm going in. I need you to stay at the surface. If anything happens, mark this site forbidden, pull back, and contact me through Kaeryx."

David grimaced. "You sure about this? We can bring a few more minds in. Maybe even get someone from the Sanctum who knows—"

"This place is reacting to me specifically. If we crowd it, we might trigger something worse."

David relented, stepping back. "Just don't get eaten by a stone ghost or something."

Ethan gave a humorless smirk. "No promises."

The stairwell was narrow, winding down in a tight spiral. Cold air licked his skin. With each step, the walls closed in, thick with vines that turned to stone as he touched them. As if the ruin had tried to consume the forest above and froze midway.

At the bottom was a circular chamber—silent, hollow, and covered in more of those same runes. But here, in the center, stood something different.

A pedestal.

Upon it rested a sphere—black, smooth, and pulsing with a crimson glow.

Ethan stepped closer.

Suddenly, the glyphs on the walls blazed. Mana surged. From the shadows, a spectral form burst forth—a guardian spirit, clad in ethereal armor, its face hidden behind a helm shaped like a snarling beast.

Ethan reacted instantly.

His sword flared into his hand, mana coursing down the blade. The guardian lunged, and their blades clashed with a burst of energy that rocked the chamber.

It was fast—faster than most spectral beings he'd fought. But it was bound. Predictable. Guarding something it no longer remembered.

Ethan ducked under a sweeping arc, slid behind the specter, and drove his blade into its back. The spirit howled but didn't fall. Instead, it surged forward and slammed him against the pedestal.

Pain burst across his ribs, but Ethan held firm. With his free hand, he summoned a burst of condensed mana and blasted the specter backward, slamming it into the wall.

"You guard a secret you don't even understand!" he shouted.

The spirit's form flickered.

Ethan pressed the attack. A feint, a slash, a surge of energy—his sword cracked against the spectral helm. With a final burst of concentrated mana, he pierced the chest of the guardian.

The spirit wailed—not in pain, but relief.

Then it vanished.

The room dimmed. Silence returned.

Ethan, breathing heavily, turned to the sphere. It no longer glowed red. Instead, a single rune pulsed on its surface.

He pressed his thumb to it.

It accepted his touch.

In a flash, energy surged through the chamber. The glyphs around him changed, realigning. Then, a whisper echoed in his ears:

"The first seal... broken."

His heart pounded.

He had no idea what that meant.

But the Labyrinth had chosen to show him this.

And now, it would show more.

The atmosphere in the Dragonkin Sanctum buzzed with a strange mix of anticipation and calm as Ethan stood in the highest balcony chamber, the wind pressing softly through the ornate stone lattice that opened to the dark skies above the Labyrinth. Kaeryx rested on the terrace, wings folded neatly against his back, his eyes half-lidded yet constantly alert. Down below, the echo of sparring clashed faintly through the open air. It was becoming routine. Stable.

Too stable.

Ethan felt it.

He wasn't one to get complacent—and neither was the Labyrinth. The deeper his Sanctum roots reached, the more he became aware of the faint ripple of change across the vast maze. The momentary peace was no more than the eye of the storm.

He turned as a knock came at the stonewood door.

"Enter," he said.

David stepped in, armored in simple dark leathers now inlaid with draconic scale patches. His eyes were sharp, his stance subtly confident—he was no longer the awkward student from Gareth Drakethorne Academy. The Sanctum had changed him too.

"We've completed the supply audit," David began, offering a rolled parchment. "Smithy reports two dozen full armor sets ready. And our scouts just returned from a three-day recon run beyond the Obsidian Spine Ridge."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Find anything?"

David gave a slow nod. "More movement. Another sanctum, most likely. Signals in the wind—like you described. They haven't made contact. But there's been a change in mana currents around that region. Someone's strengthening their barrier."

Ethan exhaled. "They're preparing for something."

"Or reacting to us."

A moment of silence passed as both men stood there, thoughts weaving unseen threads.

"Any signs of instability from the Dragonkin?" Ethan asked.

"A few," David admitted. "Not from Thraaz. He's kept his head low. But some younger warriors are beginning to challenge the others. Power displays. They don't like the new chain of command, but they're too intimidated to confront you directly."

Ethan smirked. "Let them challenge each other if they want. So long as they don't disturb order, a bit of friction keeps their claws sharp."

"And if they decide to test Kaeryx?"

The dragon gave a guttural huff from the terrace, as if amused.

"Then they'll learn why you don't step to a god," Ethan said calmly, a flicker of mana dancing on his fingers.

David allowed himself a chuckle. "That aside, we should revisit the training rotation. We can increase compatibility between races."

"Do it. And double the alchemy training sessions," Ethan replied. "We'll need more healing brews if we're heading into hostile territory."

Kaeryx shifted.

A subtle pulse of intent flowed through Ethan's mind. Not a message in words, but a feeling.

Something stirs below.

Ethan's gaze sharpened. "David, have the rune wards sensed anything from beneath the Sanctum?"

David blinked. "No. Should I call the formation team?"

"Not yet. I'll check it myself. Kaeryx senses something."

Without another word, Ethan turned, cloak fluttering behind him as he descended from the tower chambers. He crossed through silent stone corridors lit with soft blue braziers, deeper and deeper, past armories, libraries, and mana-pulse reactors. The structure carved into the side of the Labyrinth wall felt more alive now—its heartbeat aligned with his.

Finally, he reached the sealed floor beneath the Sanctum—the old tunnels, long sealed since before the Dragonkin settled this place.

He placed a hand on the obsidian door.

A pulse answered.

Not mana. Not a voice.

A rhythm.

A heartbeat.

And it wasn't his.

"Kaeryx," he whispered aloud. "Something's waking up."

He turned to the side and summoned a small orb of ethereal fire. It hovered in the air, illuminating the ancient carvings around the door. A faded sigil glowed faintly in response. Not Draconic. Not Goblin. Something older.

His eyes narrowed.

He placed a drop of his blood onto the sigil.

The door trembled.

The wall shifted.

A hidden spiral staircase unveiled itself, descending into darkness that didn't obey the rules of light.

A grin tugged at Ethan's lips.

The Great Labyrinth had just opened another secret.

And he intended to explore every piece of it.