The wind was sharp in the northern skies, slicing through the tattered clouds that loomed like ghosts over the mountain range of Daeryun's Spine. Snow no longer whispered—it screamed, thrashing across the ridge where Jinhyuk stood with his cloak billowing around him like a battered banner.
It had been five days since the confrontation in the Crimson Lotus Temple.
Five days since Lee Seong ascended as the vessel of the Moon Lotus.
And five days since Jinhyuk found himself haunted not just by memories, but by something far more visceral: a fragment of celestial rage, nestled inside his heart like a second heartbeat.
The red petal of the Crimson Lotus hadn't left his side. Though cold to the touch, it pulsed faintly, reacting to his moods—agitating during his dreams, trembling during his moments of focus. It was a part of him now, whether he liked it or not.
"Still no change?" Yeonhwa asked, stepping up beside him, her face flushed from the climb.
Jinhyuk shook his head. "No. But I think it's a compass."
"To where?"
He pointed ahead.
Down the ridge, nestled between sheer cliffs of black ice, was the Ruins of Saekwol Fortress—a name long forgotten in history, a citadel of the first oath-bound sect that once swore to protect balance between heaven and earth. That same sect had vanished without explanation nearly a millennium ago.
According to the petal, something inside awaited him. A key, maybe.
Or a blade.
Baek Sohyun joined them moments later, her breath clouding the air. "Scouts saw movement. Bandits maybe. But one of them… had a seal of the Iron Tiger Clan."
Jinhyuk's eyes narrowed.
"Didn't they fall during the Moonfire Purge?"
Baek nodded. "They did. Or so we thought."
Jinhyuk clenched his fists. The cold was nothing compared to the tension twisting in his chest. "Then we move carefully. Someone's stirring up the graves."
They descended the slope with caution, weapons ready.
The ruins emerged slowly from the storm—a half-buried fortress of obsidian stone, its gate shattered, its walls clawed by time and something far more violent. Strange markings adorned the towers: swords crossing moons, dragons cradling burning suns.
"They practiced Soul Oaths here," Yeonhwa said. "The kind that bind spirit and sword."
Jinhyuk nodded. "The kind that leave echoes."
As they entered the main courtyard, the wind died.
Not gradually—but as if someone had commanded silence.
The three stood still.
Then they heard it—a single clang, like a blade being drawn.
But no one moved.
Until a whisper reached Jinhyuk's ear.
> "You carry the Lotus's burden. Are you ready to be weighed?"
He spun around—nothing.
But the ruins had changed.
Yeonhwa and Baek were gone.
So was the snow, the wind, the sky.
Jinhyuk stood alone in a vast chamber of lightless mirrors, each reflecting not his present self—but different versions of him.
One, cloaked in blood, stood over corpses.
Another, smiling, surrounded by friends and lovers.
A third, chained, eyes hollow.
They whispered to him, all at once.
> "Which one is real?"
Then came the voice—not a whisper now, but a roar.
> "Take up the blade. Swear your path. Or vanish into reflection."
A sword appeared before him, floating in midair. Black hilt, silver edge, glowing with quiet sorrow.
The Blade of Forgotten Oaths.
The trial had begun.
---
Jinhyuk stepped forward, his hand reaching out—but the blade repelled him.
"Not yet," the chamber growled. "To claim the sword, you must shed all names but one. Declare your truth."
The mirrors around him flickered.
He saw himself as the boy from Earth, lost and confused.
As the disciple of the ancient masters, forging his path in Murim.
As the flame-bearer of the Phoenix bloodline.
As the rival to the Moon Lotus.
But which was his truth?
He closed his eyes.
And remembered the beginning—not of power or prophecy—but of choice.
He had chosen to live again. To protect. To change the story written in blood and betrayal.
He opened his eyes.
"I am Jinhyuk," he said firmly. "The one who defied fate. The one who chooses to protect, no matter the cost."
The mirrors shattered.
The sword fell into his palm.
And the chamber exploded in light.
---
When he awoke, he was kneeling in the courtyard of Saekwol Fortress, the Blade of Forgotten Oaths gripped tightly in his hand.
Yeonhwa and Baek stood nearby, their faces pale with awe.
"What happened?" she asked.
He rose slowly, eyes sharper than before.
"I passed the trial," he said simply. "And gained a weapon that remembers the promises of the dead."
He looked at the sword. It whispered names to him. Hundreds. Thousands.
Warriors who had once wielded it.
Protectors who had failed.
Now it was his turn.
And somewhere, far away, Lee Seong felt a disturbance in his path.
Because now, Jinhyuk had a blade that would never forget an oath.
And his next promise?
To bring balance to the war that was coming.
The first night after obtaining the Blade of Forgotten Oaths was filled with silence.
Not the quiet of sleep or calm—but the eerie, humming stillness of an ancient power reawakening.
Jinhyuk sat before a dwindling campfire just outside the ruins of Saekwol Fortress, the blade resting across his knees. Its edge gleamed faintly in the firelight, mirroring not just the flames, but the faces of every soul whose vow it had once carried.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Some betrayed, some broken, others kept until death.
The blade was not a weapon.
It was memory made steel.
And now, it listened to him.
"Why are you just sitting there?" Yeonhwa asked, tossing him a fresh strip of dried meat. "You haven't spoken a word in hours."
"I'm listening," he murmured, not moving his eyes from the blade. "The sword's not silent. It hums… it whispers."
Baek Sohyun stirred the pot of herbal soup on the fire. "Whispers what?"
"That I'm not worthy yet."
Yeonhwa scoffed. "Tch. After everything you've done, what does it want? Your soul?"
Jinhyuk offered a faint smile. "Not my soul. Just a promise I'll never break."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out the petal of the Crimson Lotus again. It hovered beside the blade as if drawn by kinship, glowing faintly as if recognizing its sibling.
"Are they connected?" Baek asked.
"Maybe," Jinhyuk replied. "Or maybe it's all converging toward something larger. The Moon Lotus. The Dragon Bone Ruins. This blade. Everything's leading toward a central truth."
"And that truth is?"
He glanced toward the horizon. "That we're running out of time."
A rustle in the nearby brush drew all their eyes.
They were on their feet in seconds, blades drawn.
A figure stumbled into the firelight, cloaked in furs, blood soaking his chest. His face was gaunt, lips cracked, and his breathing shallow.
But what caught Jinhyuk's attention was the sigil burned onto the man's forehead—a twisting mark shaped like a crescent moon entangled with a serpent.
"Help… me…" the man croaked before collapsing.
Yeonhwa darted to his side. "He's still alive—barely. Poisoned. Something heavy, magical. I don't recognize it."
Jinhyuk knelt and pressed his fingers to the sigil. It hissed beneath his touch, searing his skin momentarily before withdrawing like a living curse.
He scowled. "This mark… I've seen it before."
Baek tilted her head. "Where?"
"In the dream I had during the Blade's trial. One of the reflections of myself bore it."
A heavy silence settled among them.
"What does that mean?" Yeonhwa asked cautiously.
"That someone's tampering with fate," Jinhyuk replied. "And twisting versions of me into something… wrong."
The wounded man stirred again. His eyes flickered open, unfocused.
"They're… coming," he wheezed. "The Hollow Crown… they found the Temple… they awakened the Bound Legion."
"The Bound Legion?" Baek repeated. "Isn't that just a myth?"
Jinhyuk shook his head. "No. It's an ancient sect of oath-bound warriors cursed to fight forever—resurrected each time a blade sworn with betrayal is drawn."
"And now they've been awakened?"
He looked down at his new sword.
"I think this blade is the key. Or maybe the target."
The man groaned and pointed shakily east.
"The Temple of the Seventh Eclipse… go… warn the Keeper…"
With that final breath, the man died, his body disintegrating into ash and ice, vanishing as though he had never existed.
Yeonhwa stepped back in horror. "What the hell was that?"
Jinhyuk stood, his face grim.
"Someone's erasing the evidence. Severing ties. But he came to warn me anyway."
Baek rose to her feet, bow in hand. "Then what now?"
"We go east," Jinhyuk said, tightening his cloak. "To the Temple of the Seventh Eclipse."
---
The journey through the Frostgale Wastes took them two days of hard travel. The wind was relentless, and the frozen terrain offered no shelter. But Jinhyuk didn't slow.
The closer he got to the temple, the more the sword pulsed with awareness—like it was remembering something old… something sacred.
By dusk on the second day, they found it.
A colossal spire carved from obsidian and white jade, rising from the snow like a black fang. Banners long tattered flapped weakly against the cold wind. Statues of ancient warriors—each missing their eyes—lined the path to the temple steps.
"The Temple of the Seventh Eclipse," Yeonhwa whispered.
They approached slowly, weapons drawn.
The gates were slightly ajar.
Inside, the air shimmered strangely, as if time itself was fraying.
And in the center of the main chamber, atop a dais of shattered gold and cracked marble, stood an old man with a crown of shadows circling his head.
The Keeper.
He turned, and his voice thundered like prophecy.
> "You carry the blade, Jinhyuk. And with it, a thousand unkept promises. The Bound Legion stirs. The Hollow Crown rises. And now, fate will test your oaths."
Jinhyuk stepped forward.
"I don't fear fate," he said. "But I'll honor my promises."
The Keeper nodded.
"Then prepare. For the Cradle of the War-Touched will open soon. And in its halls… your name will either be sanctified—or erased."
The Temple of the Seventh Eclipse echoed with voices of the past. Whispers hung in the cold air like suspended breath—mournful, ancient, and sharp as unsheathed blades. The Keeper stood silently atop the shattered dais, eyes clouded with visions beyond the mortal realm. His black crown of shadows hovered above his silver hair, dancing with the flame of a forgotten oath.
Jinhyuk met the old man's gaze without flinching.
"What is the Cradle of the War-Touched?" he asked, voice low and steady.
The Keeper's voice rumbled like a stone avalanche. "A forge of memory and soul. It is the resting place of those who dared to wield blades forged from promises—both broken and kept. The Hollow Crown seeks to breach its seal… for what lies beyond is not a weapon, but a reckoning."
Behind him, Yeonhwa clutched her sword tighter, eyeing the flickering runes on the temple walls. Baek Sohyun scanned the murals, her expression tense.
"This place is… saturated in death," she murmured. "Not just the kind you feel in battle. Something colder. Emptier."
The Keeper nodded slowly.
"Because this temple is not just a sanctuary—it's a judgment hall. The Bound Legion was born here."
Jinhyuk's brow furrowed. "I thought they were cursed warriors… mindless revenants bound to vengeance."
"They were once heroes," the Keeper replied. "They were given impossible choices. Fight for empires that betrayed them, defend lovers who had already died, uphold oaths twisted by time. When they broke… the blade judged them."
He gestured toward Jinhyuk's sword—the Blade of Forgotten Oaths.
"That weapon doesn't serve you," the Keeper continued. "It watches. It waits. It remembers. When you falter, it will not forgive."
Yeonhwa stepped forward. "Then why did it choose him?"
"Because he has not yet broken," the Keeper said, voice softening. "And because… he bears the shard."
Jinhyuk's eyes flickered. "You mean the Crimson Lotus Petal?"
"No," the Keeper whispered. "I mean the soul shard within you, boy."
The air shifted.
Suddenly, the murals on the walls glowed red, and from them rose flickering silhouettes—warriors clad in armor of moonlight and shadow. Their eyes were empty sockets. Their blades dripped with time itself.
The Bound Legion had awakened.
"They sense your presence," the Keeper said gravely. "They remember the promise your past self made."
Jinhyuk's hand tightened on his sword. "What promise?"
"To return… and release them."
With a deafening scream, the Bound Legion charged.
Jinhyuk moved first, his blade singing as it cleaved through the first spectral warrior. But unlike before, their forms reknitted, bound by invisible chains of spirit and steel.
"They don't die!" Yeonhwa shouted, slashing through two of them.
"They're oath-bound," Baek cried. "As long as the vow holds, they'll rise again!"
Jinhyuk gritted his teeth. The blade vibrated violently in his hand, not resisting but… urging.
"Not destroy," he muttered. "Free."
He flipped the blade in his grip and planted it into the temple floor.
Golden ripples spread from the impact.
The warriors froze mid-charge, their forms trembling.
Jinhyuk closed his eyes and whispered, "I am Jinhyuk, bearer of forgotten promises. I see you. I remember you. And I will keep the vow your master once made."
The shadows howled… and slowly began to dissolve.
Chains shattered one by one. Murmurs turned into sobs of relief. Each warrior dropped their weapon before vanishing like morning mist touched by sun.
Silence returned.
The Keeper stepped down from the dais, awe in his gaze. "You did what I could not. You freed them."
Jinhyuk opened his eyes. "They didn't deserve to suffer. No one does."
The Keeper nodded. "Then you must go where their pain began. The Cradle lies beneath the Weeping Wastes—guarded by memories turned monstrous. If the Hollow Crown reaches it first…"
"They won't," Jinhyuk said firmly.
Yeonhwa sheathed her blade. "Then let's not waste time."
As they turned to leave, the Keeper stopped Jinhyuk with a hand on his shoulder.
"One more thing," he said quietly. "Your soul shard—it doesn't only bind you to them. It binds you to another."
Jinhyuk blinked. "Another what?"
"A rival," the Keeper said. "One born of the same star, but molded by opposite fate. He seeks the Cradle too. And he carries a blade of promises… that were never made."
Jinhyuk's pulse quickened.
"Name?"
The Keeper looked past him, toward the gathering storm.
"He calls himself Seiryun."
Jinhyuk felt a chill deeper than the cold wind. A name unfamiliar—but already filled with foreboding.
> A mirror not of past… but of potential ruin.
And thus, the next journey began.