Fading Guardian - One Hour of Fantasy Study Music | Ambience | DnD Music | LitRPG

Fading Guardian - One Hour of Fantasy Study Music | Ambience | DnD Music | LitRPG | Dungeon Synth

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Chapter 1: The Echo of Forgotten Worlds
His eyes opened to a sky painted in violet, swirling like an ancient bruise. The air was still-too still. The ground beneath him, an unnatural mix of green and black, felt both solid and unreal, as if the world itself was glitching at the edges.
No bird sang. Only the wind moved, whispering through the twisted trees. A cold weight pressed against his chest-chainmail, rusted but sturdy. His hands, unfamiliar yet somehow his, gripped a shield, its surface dull and dented, yet reliable.
He remembered nothing. Only a single, fractured thought echoed in his mind: I logged in...
But logged into what?
He pushed himself to his feet, the weight of the armor grounding him, and glanced around. No signs of life. No HUD, no quest markers. Just the endless forest, stretching into the purple sky. And then... the music.
It was faint at first, barely audible over the wind-a single piano melody, repeating in slow, mournful loops. The kind of song you'd expect to hear when you lose everything in a game.
Hadn't he been here before? Years ago?
The game was dead. He knew that much. No players, no updates. And yet, he was here. Or maybe... trapped here.
The shield felt heavier as the thought settled. Something had lured him in-a player, a shadow. He followed them down... a hole?
Nothing made sense. Yet everything felt familiar.
He checked himself. Strength: 12. Agility: 13. Smarts: 11. Cool: 10. Spirit: 13. HP: 15.
Then, the gear:
Basic Chainmail Armor [+5 Defense]
Medium Basic Shield [+2 Defense]
No weapons. No clues. Just the endless, haunted forest.
The piano in his head never stopped.
And neither could he.
A pull deep within his chest-a hollow, aching call-urged him forward. Not hope, not desire, but something else. Something colder. The weight of wanderlust dragged at his bones, demanding movement through the eerie silence.
Before him, the air shimmered. A message flickered into view, pixelated letters hanging in the void:
Quest: Locate the Church of St. Thorn.
No explanation. No map. Just the haunting sense that something waited beyond the trees.
He had no choice but to press on.
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