The Sin-Eater's System

The path ahead was unrelenting, winding deeper into the abyss. The oppressive whispers seemed to have quieted after the Warden's defeat, but Arion knew better than to let his guard down. Every shadow felt like an ambush waiting to happen. The Whispering Abyss wasn't just a place—it was a battlefield of the mind.

The air grew heavier with every step he took. Arion's breathing slowed as he noticed something strange about the walls around him. No longer just jagged rock, they were now smooth and polished, as though chiseled by an artisan's hand. Symbols and carvings covered every inch of the surface. They glowed faintly, pulsing in tandem with an unseen heartbeat.

"What is this place?" Arion muttered. His hand brushed against the carvings, and a jolt of energy surged through him. He yanked his hand back.

[System Notification]

Warning: Memory Resonance Detected. Emotional stability required to proceed.

He frowned. "Memory resonance?"

As if in response to his question, a low hum filled the air. The carvings shifted, their patterns reshaping into scenes. At first, the images were blurry, but they soon sharpened into a vivid tableau. The carvings depicted scenes of grandeur: a man standing atop a mountain of corpses, his arms outstretched in triumph.

Arion paused, frowning at the familiar image. It was him—or at least, it was who he had been.

The system chimed again.

[System Notification]

Memory Fragment Discovered. Do you wish to relive it?

Arion hesitated, his hand hovering near the glowing fragment. He could already guess what it would show, but the system's cryptic messages often held rewards.

"Fine," he muttered, tapping the notification.

The world around him blurred and shifted. He found himself standing in a grand hall. The marble floors were stained with blood, the air thick with the metallic tang of death. His younger self stood at the center, victorious over a group of challengers. The arrogance in his smirk was palpable.

"You're nothing without me," a voice echoed from the memory. It was one of the challengers, gasping for breath as they lay defeated. Their eyes burned with defiance even as their body gave out.

Arion's younger self stepped forward, his voice cold and unyielding. "Nothing? I am the pinnacle of power. You should've known better than to stand in my way."

The words hung heavy in the air, a cruel reminder of the man he used to be. The memory dissolved, leaving Arion alone in the abyss once more.

He clenched his fists. The memory was an unwelcome reminder of the pride that had defined him, but it also stoked his determination. If he was to climb out of Hell, he had to face these fragments head-on.

[System Notification]

Memory Fragment Analyzed. Bonus Attribute Point Gained.

"Small victories," he muttered, continuing down the path.

---

The path grew narrower, the walls pressing in like a predator circling its prey. The faint flicker of light from the carvings provided little comfort. Arion's thoughts drifted back to the memory, the image of his younger self etched into his mind. That man had been unstoppable, but also blind to the damage he caused.

Suddenly, the light around him extinguished, plunging the corridor into darkness. Arion froze, his senses on high alert. The faint sound of footsteps echoed from behind him.

He whirled around, summoning the iron blade he had taken from the Warden. "Who's there?"

The footsteps stopped, replaced by a soft, mocking laugh.

"Still so quick to draw your weapon, even after all you've seen," a voice whispered. It was low and smooth, dripping with malice.

A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in black. Their face was obscured, but their presence was suffocating. Arion tightened his grip on the sword, his instincts screaming at him to attack.

"Another test?" Arion growled.

The figure tilted its head. "Test? No. I am merely here to observe."

Arion narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

The figure chuckled. "A better question might be: who were you?"

Before Arion could respond, the figure raised a hand, and the carvings on the walls began to shift again. This time, they depicted scenes of destruction—cities burning, armies falling, and innocents crying out for mercy. At the center of it all was Arion, his sword raised high.

"This is your legacy," the figure said, their voice echoing like a thousand whispers. "You were a king, a conqueror, and a destroyer. Do you see now why you belong here?"

Arion's jaw tightened. "I didn't ask for your opinion."

The figure stepped closer, their presence growing more oppressive. "No, but you will face the truth, whether you like it or not."

The walls began to close in, the carvings glowing brighter. Arion's chest tightened as the air grew thin. He lashed out with his sword, but the blade passed harmlessly through the figure.

"Fighting will get you nowhere," the figure taunted. "Only by embracing your past can you hope to move forward."

Arion's vision blurred as the pressure mounted. The memories from the carvings flashed through his mind, each one more painful than the last. He saw the faces of those he had betrayed, the lives he had ruined, and the destruction he had wrought.

"No," he growled, dropping to one knee. "I won't be broken by this."

The figure loomed over him, their voice a cold whisper. "Then prove it. Face the truth and rise, or deny it and remain a prisoner of your own pride."

With a roar, Arion forced himself to his feet. He planted the sword into the ground, using it as leverage. The carvings around him began to fade, their light dimming. The figure stepped back, their form dissolving into the shadows.

"You have passed… for now," the voice said, echoing in the darkness.

As the corridor returned to normal, Arion took a deep breath. The test had shaken him, but it had also strengthened his resolve.

"Keep throwing your tricks at me," he muttered. "I'll break through them all."

With renewed determination, he pressed onward, ready to face whatever Hell had in store.