Chapter 1: The Cursed Void
Everything had a price.
This was the first and final law of the System, a brutal and elegant truth etched into the fabric of existence. Every heartbeat birthed an Echo—a vibrant, resonant melody of love, rage, fear, or hope. Sealed with a fragment of the soul, an Echo granted power to bend the laws of nature: to heal with a touch, to shatter stone with a thought, to vanish into shadow. But every surge of power demanded a toll, a spiritual tax for daring to touch the divine. The stronger the Echo, the heavier the price. Those who wove love into healing saw their faith crack from within; those who unleashed rage to topple mountains became strangers to their own reflections, their identities eroded by the fire that fueled them. Everything had a price, and the System, a divine and indifferent mechanism, existed to enforce this cruel balance.
I am Riven Kael. For eighteen years, I've walked this world, and for eighteen years, my heart has not beaten once. For me, the price would be something no sacrifice could measure.
The Grand Hall of Velheart Sanctum thrummed with anticipation, its marble walls echoing the legacy of its three tiers: Surface for dreamers, Core for warriors, and Shadow for the forgotten. Marble floors gleamed under towering crystal chandeliers, their cold light casting fractured reflections across the chamber. In the shadows of each sculpted pillar stood the heirs of noble houses—future lords, warriors, and scholars, their faces taut with expectation. Their hearts pounded, a frantic symphony of ambition and anxiety, their uniforms—stitched with crests like the snarling wolf of Valerius or the weeping willow of Elara—shimmering with pride and invisible chains.
My chest held only stillness. A hollow space where a heart should have been, a void that devoured sound and sensation. I stood among them, yet apart—a ghost at the feast.
Before the Initiation Ritual began, a youth in a velvet jacket, emblazoned with the Valerius crest, brushed past me, his shoulder clipping mine with calculated force. His arrogant Echo pulsed like a storm, expecting a flinch, an apology, a spark of fear. He got none. My body stood unyielding, a rock against a crashing wave, my gaze fixed and unblinking.
"Step aside, Echo-less," he hissed, his voice a venomous dart. "Velheart's for purebloods, not street-born ghosts like you."
His palm shimmered with a faint red flicker—a pre-seal aura of rage. But as it neared me, it sputtered, dimmed, died. The System's ambient current recoiled from my presence, like instinct shying from decay. He sensed it—the unease, the wrongness, the void. His sneer froze, replaced by confusion, then dread. Muttering, he stepped back, as if I were a wound in reality itself.
That was my truth. I didn't provoke reactions; I was where reactions went to die.
A mechanical voice boomed across the marble floor. "Initiation Ritual commenced. Approach the Calling Stone. Seal your fate."
The heirs obeyed, one by one. Power erupted—raw, radiant, ruthless.
A warrior gritted his teeth as crimson light surged from his chest. "Echo: Pure Rage. Seal: Destruction. Price: Control." He grinned, triumphant, but I saw the nail marks in his clenched fists, the hidden terror of losing himself. A weapon of destruction, I thought, doomed to fear his own strength. He'll win battles but lose the war against his nature. Unreliable.
Next came Elara, silver-haired, her movements like a dancer's. Her touch unleashed a warm Echo of love, a shield of healing light. "Echo: Unconditional Love. Seal: Protection. Price: Faith." The crowd murmured in awe, but I caught the crack in her smile—the doubt of one who could never fully trust those she shielded. A powerful defense, I analyzed, a cold curiosity stirring. But if faith is her price, she'll doubt her shield at the critical moment. She can protect the world, but who protects her from her own doubt? Fatal in a duel. A memory of my mother flickered. If my heart could beat, what Echo would love create? Was her love like this?
A frail boy followed, his body flickering like a phantom. "Echo: Deep Fear. Seal: Concealment. Price: Courage." He shuffled off, unnoticed. I noted: Not a warrior, but a perfect spy. Fear makes him invisible—a deadly strength in the right hands. He'll never lead, but he could end a war with a whisper.
Each was a tragedy, their power a chain forged by the System's cruel balance.
Then my turn came.
Silence, immediate and absolute. Every eye locked on me—curiosity, contempt, dread. My steps echoed with a soundlessness louder than any scream. I reached the Calling Stone, its surface a mirror to my void. I touched it, searching for a spark, a memory, anything to summon an Echo. But my mind was a cold, endless abyss.
Nothing happened.
No light. No sound. No pulse. The silence grew tangible, pressing against the air. A scanning light swept over me, pausing where my heart should be, flickering uncertainly.
The System, herald of the Heartbeat of the King era, spoke—not an announcement, but a question, its voice faltering.
"Analyzing… Echo: None. Seal: None. Heartbeat: None."
A pause, deeper than silence, as if the System had encountered its first error.
"Re-analyzing… Entity unidentified. Core anomaly detected. This is a void. This is the form of the cursed."
The hall erupted in whispers. Students recoiled. Instructors stirred.
Professor Alveth Rae leapt up, eyes wild. "Protocol 73-Delta! Quarantine the subject!"
Mentor Carmina intervened, her voice firm. "He's a boy, not a threat! The Human-Factor clause protects him!"
So this is my fate, I thought, watching them. An error to study, a child to save. Both wrong. I am neither. I am the void they cannot comprehend. And I will find my own path.