Ethan did not sleep that night.
He sat on the edge of his bed, Arthur’s sword resting across his knees, and stared at the wall. The blade was warm against his palms, not the warmth of friction or sunlight, but something deeper. Something alive.
『 The relic is responding to your presence. 』
"Responding how?"
『 It recognizes you as a descendant of its owner. The bond between blood and steel is not easily broken. 』
Ethan traced the inscription on the blade with his fingertip.
Arthur Blackwood. The Iron Ghost. He who never fell.
"Do you think he knew? When he carved this. Did he know he would be forgotten?"
『 He knew. That is why he left the sword behind. He wanted to be remembered. 』
Ethan closed his eyes.
He understood that desire. To be remembered. To matter. To leave something behind that would outlast you.
That was what the Ashford Family was trying to take from them. Not just the spiritual vein, their legacy. Their right to exist.
He would not let that happen.
The next morning, Ethan found Eleanor in the main hall.
She was not alone. Thomas stood beside her, his arms crossed, his expression hard. The elders were gathered at the long table, their faces grim.
"We need to talk," Eleanor said.
Ethan sat.
"The elders have agreed to give you a chance. One chance."
She looked at the sword in his hands.
"Show us what you found."
Ethan placed the sword on the table. The elders leaned forward, their eyes fixed on the rusted blade.
"It belonged to Arthur Blackwood," Ethan said. "The Iron Ghost. He was the greatest warrior our family ever produced."
Elder Marcus scoffed. "A rusted sword proves nothing."
Ethan picked up the blade and held it out.
"Touch it."
Marcus hesitated. Then he reached out and brushed his fingers against the metal.
He flinched.
"What... what is this?"
"You feel it, don’t you? The warmth. The presence. This sword is not ordinary."
Marcus withdrew his hand, his expression troubled.
"It proves nothing," he repeated, but his voice lacked conviction.
Elder Agnes, the oldest of the five, leaned forward.
"I remember stories," she said quietly. "From my grandmother. She spoke of a warrior who defended the mountain. A man who could not be killed."
She looked at Ethan.
"She called him the Iron Ghost."
The hall fell silent.
Ethan met Agnes’s gaze.
"He was real. He still is. We just need to remember."
『 Family Faith: 12 』
『 Story Credibility: 18% 』
After the council, Eleanor approached Ethan.
"There’s something I need to show you."
She led him out of the main hall, through the winding paths of the estate, until they reached the ancestral grounds. The old stone buildings loomed before them, half-buried in the mountainside.
"I’ve been thinking about what you said," Eleanor murmured. "About the hidden chamber. About Arthur."
"And?"
"When I was a child, my grandmother told me stories about this place. She said there was a chamber beneath the ancestral hall—a place where the first Blackwood left something behind."
"Did she know what it was?"
Eleanor shook her head. "She said it was a secret. A secret that would only be revealed when the family was at its lowest."
She paused.
"I think that time is now."
They entered the ancestral hall and moved toward the hidden door.
Ethan pushed it open, and the passage descended into darkness. He had brought candles this time, dozens of them and they lit the way as they walked deeper into the mountain.
Eleanor was silent beside him. Her footsteps echoed in the narrow passage, her breathing slow and steady.
When they reached the chamber, she stopped.
"This is it."
The chamber was small—barely ten paces across. The stone pedestal stood in the center, empty now that Ethan had taken the book. But the walls...
The walls were covered in murals.
Ethan had not noticed them before. In the dim light of his first visit, the carvings had been invisible. But now, with the candles illuminating every corner, he could see them clearly.
A man standing at a gate.
An army of shadows descending upon him.
A battle that lasted for days.
And at the center of it all, a figure in ancient armor—a sword in his hand, his face hidden in shadow.
Arthur Blackwood.
The Iron Ghost.
Eleanor stepped closer, her eyes wide.
"I’ve never seen these before."
"Neither had I. Not properly."
He moved toward the wall, his fingers tracing the carvings. The detail was extraordinary—every figure, every weapon, every expression carved with impossible precision.
"Who made these?"
『 The first ancestor. 』
Ethan frowned. "Aldric Blackwood?"
『 Yes. He carved these murals himself. They are not just art—they are a record. A memory preserved in stone. 』
"A memory of what?"
『 Of the truth. 』
Ethan’s blood ran cold.
"What truth?"
The system was silent for a moment.
Then:
『 The truth of the ancestors. The truth of the system. The truth of why the Blackwood Family was cursed. 』
Eleanor turned to him.
"What is it? What did it say?"
Ethan hesitated.
Then he told her.
When he finished, Eleanor was pale.
"A deal with a god," she whispered. "The first ancestor made a deal with a god."
"And the price was our bloodline. Every generation, one of us must be sacrificed."
Eleanor’s hands trembled.
"My grandmother... She always said the family was cursed. I thought she was speaking metaphorically."
"She wasn’t."
Eleanor turned away, her shoulders shaking.
"How many? How many of us have died?"
『 Since the deal was made, three hundred and forty-seven Blackwoods have been sacrificed. 』
Ethan repeated the number.
Eleanor let out a choked sob.
"Three hundred years of murder. Three hundred years of lies."
She turned back to face him, her eyes burning.
"We have to stop it."
"I know."
"How?"
Ethan looked at the murals. At Arthur. At the battle that had been forgotten.
"We bring them back. All of them. And we make the gods pay."
Behind the pedestal, Ethan found a door.
It was small—barely large enough for a man to pass through and sealed with a formation that had not been broken in centuries. The symbols were unfamiliar, older than anything Ethan had seen before.
"What is this?" Eleanor asked.
"I don’t know."
『 The door leads to the Nexus. 』
"The Nexus?"
『 A place where the boundary between memory and reality is thin. It is where the ancestors will manifest when they are ready. 』
Ethan stared at the door.
"How do I open it?"
『 You don’t. Not yet. The Nexus will open when the first ancestor is ready to return. 』
"And when will that be?"
『 When enough believe. When the story becomes true. 』
Ethan nodded slowly.
He turned to Eleanor.
"We need to make them believe. All of them. Not just the family—the entire mountain. Everyone who has ever heard the name Blackwood."
Eleanor met his gaze.
"And how do we do that?"
Ethan smiled.
"By telling them the truth. The real truth. About Arthur. About the Iron Ghost. About everything we’ve forgotten."
He paused.
"And then we bring him back."