The Firstlings

The Fourth

Adam walked through the dark tunnels of the labyrinth, sighing in frustration. The crown had alerted him to strange fluctuations nearby, so he had set out to investigate and potentially find nourishment for the insufferable treasure.

He couldn’t help but groan bitterly at his ailing body as he limped through the tunnel. He was almost a hundred and fifty years of age, his white hair and aching bones testament to his long life, which would be even longer if not for the crown’s constant feeding on his essence.

That was the curse of the crown.

It required massive amounts of nourishment to sustain its existence, which would normally be gotten from slaying beasts and monsters or even absorbing other treasures. But any moment of respite would cause the crown’s hunger to grow, leading to it consuming the wearer.

Always feeding, ever hungry for more.

He chuckled at the misconception humanity had about the crown. They believed that any champion who could claim the treasure would become the Hero, but that was a lie. He believed this as well, at one time, until wearing the crown, and seeing the truth.

You couldn’t claim the crown’s Authority.

It claimed you.

It would wear you like a meat suit, urging you forward to kill and absorb all in its path as it fed insatiably. Humanity believed it was forging you into the Hero, a better champion, but he knew now how silly they had been to believe such fairy tales. The Hero class would never appear, and he knew this without a doubt.

Because the Hero’s soul was trapped in the crown.

He had learned this bitter truth after claiming the crown and attempting to harness its power. A soul was burning brightly within its core, brighter than anything he had ever seen. He could feel the bindings on it trapping it within as it lashed out in fury, unable to break free.

Its white radiance was all-consuming and would burn away the soul of anyone who attempted to interact with it unless you were strong enough to push back. If you could create a balance, you could pull from the Hero's soul to gain immense power and rise as a champion. But the crown's hunger would grow even more, causing states of madness and bloodlust—a backlash from draining its essence.

Thinking of his daughter Karla, his heart ached at the lies he had told her, unable to face her if she ever knew the truth about his past. He had been a bandit before claiming the crown and had preyed on others for survival. It had been the survival of the strongest in his younger years, and he had banded together with those stronger than him as they hunted wild beasts and other humans to survive.

Eyes full of resentment, he looked over his runes, peering closely at his class...

[Thief (Peak)]

“Your treachery has been Mastered.”

He had not claimed the crown in some heroic deed or act of chivalry. When their bandit group had become desperate, they sacked one of the last surviving towns of humanity to fill their bellies. Entering one of the buildings in the small town, he heard crying and attempted to follow it to its source. Finding a side passage, he discovered a frail man lying in a bed, gasping for breath, his skin pulled tight on his gaunt figure.

Putting his dagger through the man’s heart, he had taken all the valuables he could find, including the Crown adorning his head, which seemed to call to him. He knew now that the crown had been killing the man, breaking him as it drained the essence from his body and soul.

Then his new life began.

He had found equilibrium with the crown and could pull from its power, using it to defeat anyone who would stand in his path. Survivors began to flock to their camp after hearing of the Hero of the outskirts. He hadn’t intended to save humanity and was only taking advantage of his newfound power to further his goals.

Until he fell in love.

Her name was Katherine; she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, her smile melting his cold heart. Together, they had forged out into the wilderness to claim a new home and build a bastion for humanity. Hope filled everyone’s heart as the Hero and his Queen stood at the forefront of the battle for a new beginning.

His heart ached at the memory of their long journey and the trials they had endured to build the stronghold. He choked back a sob at the thought of Katherine lying on her deathbed, pale and sickly from blood loss, holding their little girl with the most loving look in her eyes. The healers had tried everything to save her life, but...

She died that very night.

He had mourned for what felt like an eternity, almost losing his battle with the crown, but Katherine's last words had kept him from letting go. She had made him promise to care for Karla, their daughter, and ensure her safety at all costs. He had become the perfect father and did everything in his power to ensure his daughter was well taken care of and loved.

Over the years, she had grown to be a beautiful young lady, bright and full of youth. But his condition had worsened as the crown became more insatiable the longer he wore it, causing bouts of madness and urging him to feed it. He woke every night to the sound of someone crying, echoing through the walls.

Everyone in the stronghold thought him crazy, as he had picked up the habit of talking to the cursed treasure, though it never responded. His body had started to age, and aches and pain consumed him. His lifespan would have been greater if not for the crown's undue stress on his body, but he was soul-bound, so there was nothing he could do but feed it.

Sighing, he continued through the tunnels, twisting and turning as he wound his way through the Labyrinth. Getting closer to where the treasure was leading him, he felt the crown vibrate with hunger, practically trying to jump from his head. Rounding the corner, he froze at the horrible sight ahead of him.

The tunnel was filled with a black sludge that twisted and writhed, a foul odor wafting in the air. In its center was a dark portal, seeming to lead to the abyss, spilling sludge as a horrible cacophony of moans and madness poured from its depths.

The foul sound struck him like a battering ram, slamming into his soul and causing cracks as he fell to his knees in pain and terror. Eyes going wide, he growled as he tried to reign in the crown and push away the horrible lull from the abysmal portal. He pulled from the Hero’s soul to empower his body as he stood, holding his sword high.

White radiance covered his figure as he darted forward, turning into a streak of light, heading for the portal. Pulling back his blade for an all-out swing, power converging on its tip, he swung with all his strength as the world trembled.

A wall of pure radiance shot forward as if to consume anything in its path with its brilliance. The all-consuming power burned away the black sludge and struck the portal with a deafening clap of thunder. His smiling sneer turned to a look of horror, however, when the portal began to fight back.

With a groan of madness, black tentacles shot out, wrapping around the wall of radiance and pulling it into its depths as if to consume it with its corruption. He dodged as a tentacle reached to grab him, and he began to dance around the tunnel, slicing and swinging, trying to evade as more and more appeared. Pain ripped through him as dark bolts of sludge shot out from the foul appendages, piercing into his skin.

The feeling of disgust and horror only grew when a tentacle flew harmlessly past his head, then swelled and exploded, splashing sludge into his eyes. Blinded, he stumbled back, tripping on the uneven floor, and screamed in fright as several tentacles wrapped around him, dragging him towards the abyss.

Pulling from the Hero’s soul again, knowing that he was consuming his own life, he managed to free his hand and lashed out wildly. White radiance burst from his body, burning away the tentacles as he darted to the exit in a mad dash to escape.

Spitting out black sludge that had worked its way into his lungs, he darted through the tunnels, running as far as he could, hearing foul moans behind him. Wobbling on unsteady feet, he dragged himself forward, seeing a light in a cavern ahead. He entered the cave, falling against the wall with a groan, gasping for breath as black veins began racing across his body, but his eyes went wide at the sight of what was nesting in the cavern.

Golden radiance surrounded the most amazing beast he had ever seen.

Standing, in the center of the cavern, was a large crystal bursting from the floor, rising high into the air. The Great Beast was nestled against the crystal, looking as if it were absorbing its power. Its golden eyes held such might that his failing soul almost shattered instantly, shaking him to his core.

But he could also see a loving, nurturing look sparkling in their depths.

He lay against the wall, gasping, feeling the corruption spreading through the cracks in his soul as the Beast stared, unmoving. Pulling from the Hero’s soul, he tried to burn away the corruption as the black veins continued to spread but felt something blocking him. Searching inward, he saw that the corruption had set too deep, poisoning both his core and his soul.

He laughed bitterly, knowing that this was the end of his journey.

He thought of Karla and the stronghold, praying they would find a better way than he had. Hopefully, they would discard the treacherous crown and forget about heroes, forging their own path. Watching the Great Beast, he closed his eyes, thinking of his wife Katherine, with longing in his heart.

Shuddering, he took his last breath as his soul crumbled.