Chapter 4 - Echoes of the Old World

The father and daughter walked side by side across the open expanse, the core’s pale light casting long shadows behind them. The sky above was vast and empty, a bluish haze stretching from horizon to horizon, broken only by distant floating land masses and the faint silhouette of a drifting Night Stone in the far east.

Ash kept his eyes low, scanning the ground with quiet intensity. Every few steps, he crouched slightly, brushing aside grass to check the soil beneath for clues — bent stalks, claw marks, uneven patches of trampled earth. Anything that might reveal the passage of beastmen.

Arcea trailed a step behind, dragging her bent metal pole through the grass, its twisted length cutting a lazy path in the earth. The sound of metal scraping over stone and soil was soft but constant — a dull drag followed by the occasional bump when it clipped a rock or root. She made no effort to lift it, her posture slouched, shoulders rolling forward with every few steps.

They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling of wind through the tall grass and the occasional creak of Ash’s gear shifting on his back.

Eventually, Arcea spoke.

“So… are the beastmen still around here somewhere?”

Ash gave a slow nod, his eyes still moving across the horizon.
“According to the witness, they fled northwest of Bernswick. Only a few places they could go from here — the Tangled Forest or the Outlook Mountains. There’s a road that winds through the pass and leads into an ancient abandoned city on the other side. Everything else is just open grasslands.”

He paused, then added,
“If they’re not just dumb beasts, they went somewhere they could hide.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his expression flat but focused.
“We’ll search the area as we move toward Outlook Pass. Keep your eyes open. Anything disturbed, anything that feels wrong — say something.”

Arcea tapped her chin with a knuckle as she thought.
“But what if we don’t find anything? What if they doubled back and went into the Fallen Forest? Or into the Tangled Forest anyway?”

Ash’s voice came back sharper, more certain.
“Tangled Forest is named that for a reason. The trees there are thick — branches curled and knotted together. You’d need a blade just to move five feet. It’s a death trap. No sane person goes in there without a damn good reason.”

He shifted his stance and pointed westward.
“As for the Fallen Forest? Unlikely. It’s the only major path connecting east and west across this part of the continent. Too exposed. Too many travelers. If they tried marching through it with a bunch of abducted people, they’d have been seen. We would’ve heard something.”

He frowned slightly.
“And with how organized Rick said they were… I doubt they’d take that risk.”

Ash knelt beside a slight depression in the grass and ran his hand along a flattened patch.

“They’ve got a hideout. Somewhere out here.” His tone was grim. “We just have to find the trail.”

“I’m tired...” Arcea muttered, her voice lower now. “Used too much energy back there.”

She let out a yawn and shifted her grip. The twisted metal slab dragged from her shoulder and fell with a dull clunk, thudding into the dirt behind her.

Ash didn’t stop. He gave her a brief glance — not annoyed, just calculating — then turned and continued forward in silence.

Arcea sighed, shoulders slumping as she followed. She rolled her arms once, cracking her neck, and dragged the hunk of metal behind her with a little less strength than before. It carved a winding groove through the grass, cutting into the dirt beneath every few steps. The dull rustle of displaced weeds mixed with the occasional crunch of stone beneath the slab’s weight.

Her trail, like her mood, was beginning to drag.

Ash turned to glance at his daughter.
“Let’s head to those ruins over there and take a break. Looks like there’s a small pond nearby — you can rinse off your clothes.”

Arcea followed his gaze. Half-buried stone blocks jutted from the grass, and the moss-covered roof of an old house peeked above the tall weeds. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

She looked down at her dress, frowning. It was still soaked in the delicious stew she never got to finish. She’d only eaten half of it before that evil man had ruined everything.

They walked toward the ruins, the wind rustling through the grass around them. Once they arrived, Ash began unpacking some food from his bag and glanced at her.

“Go wash that dress, then come eat. You’ve got to be starving after burning through all that energy.”

Arcea gave a small nod and wandered deeper into the ruins, dragging her weapon behind her. The grass grew thicker here, brushing against her knees. She followed the sound of trickling water and soon reached the pond. As she approached, a low growl made her stop.

A beast stood at the edge of the water — lean, snarling, and eyeing her warily.

Arcea just stared at it. She really wasn’t in the mood.

Without a word, she wound up and hurled her weapon in a wide arc. The twisted metal slab spun through the air and slammed into the creature’s side with a loud crunch, sending it tumbling. Bones shattered on impact, followed by a final, limp thud.

She huffed.

“Idiot.”

Stripping off her dress, Arcea stepped into the cold water. She scrubbed at the blood, the dirt, and the remnants of stew, then sat back and let the chill sink into her skin. Her dress lay spread across a rock nearby, drying under the core’s light.

That was when she noticed it — something odd in the overgrown grass ahead. Narrow, parallel lines carved through the weeds, almost hidden. She followed them with her eyes westward... then spotted a cluster of footprints — large, heavy, and inconsistent. Some disappeared entirely. Her eyes narrowed as she tracked another group of footprints veering off to the northwest, toward the Outlook Mountains.

Her heart jumped.

She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the still-damp dress, and tugged it on. She quickly tied her sandals and ran, dragging her weapon behind her as she rushed back to her father.

Ash was hunched over his map, chewing slowly on a sandwich while deep in thought. He was tracing the contours of the grasslands with one finger, muttering to himself.

“Could be a cave… maybe a sinkhole? Something hidden…”

“Dad!” Arcea shouted as she slid to a stop beside him.

Ash flinched, startled, and fumbled his sandwich — but Arcea snatched it out of the air mid-drop and, without hesitation, took a huge bite.

“Arcea! Dammit, why do you always do that?” he grumbled, rubbing his chest. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. Now — what is it?”

Arcea started talking immediately, mouth still full. Her words came out as a garbled mess.

Ash squinted at her with a deadpan stare.

“Stop. I can’t understand a single word you’re saying. Swallow first.”

She chewed for a few more seconds, gulped, then pointed excitedly.
“I found something! I think it’s their trail — come look!”

Ash followed her as she led him through the grass toward the tracks.

When they arrived, Ash crouched and inspected the area carefully.

“Looks like a wagon came through here,” he muttered. “Probably loaded up with some of the abducted farmhands. They must’ve hauled them off somewhere west.”

He pointed at another set of prints farther up.
“Different trail here — beastmen tracks heading northwest. Toward the Outlook Mountains.”

Arcea walked beside him, happily stuffing her face with the rest of the sandwich while watching him work.

Ash climbed up onto the crumbling ruins, his boots pressing into the uneven stone. The roof of the old structure sagged beneath him, warped from years of exposure to wind, rain, and the planet’s harsh conditions.

He stepped carefully, testing each foothold.
Creak.
The wood groaned in protest.
Another step — crack — a splintering noise echoed beneath him.

The whole structure felt ready to collapse. Dust trickled from a support beam as Ash moved slowly across the rotten roof, keeping his balance.

He reached a stable-enough spot and pulled a small scope from his belt, raising it to his eye. Through the lens, he tracked the wagon trail, following the shallow ruts as they curved south—

Then suddenly—
CRACK.
The beam beneath him gave way with a sharp snap.

Ash’s eyes widened —
“Shit—!”

The roof crumbled in an instant. His footing vanished, and he dropped straight through the broken slats, crashing onto the hard floor below in a cloud of splinters and dust.
He looked up to see Arcea trying to stifle her laughter behind both hands. She eventually approached.

“So... did you see where the tracks went?”

Ash nodded.
“The wagon trail heads west, then curves south toward the Fallen Forest. But the beastmen — they went toward the Outlook Mountains. That means they only had one wagon, probably couldn’t carry more than a dozen people. They wouldn’t send it off without guards, either. Which means the rest of the abducted farmhands were taken somewhere nearby to wait for it to come back.”

He glanced down at the prints again, expression grim.

“Unfortunately… these tracks are old. At least a week. But if we move fast, we might still be able to save some of them.”

He turned to her, voice firm.
“Finish your lunch and rest. We leave in forty-five minutes. I want to reach the mountain pass and set up camp before the next Night Stone moves across.”

They made their way back to their things. Arcea dragged her weapon behind her once again and, without a word, curled up in Ash’s lap. She let out a soft sigh, then closed her eyes — just for a moment.

About an hour later, they finally arrived at the base of the Outlook Mountains. The grasslands thinned into uneven terrain, and a narrow dirt path cut through the rising slopes — half-hidden under creeping weeds and scattered rocks.

Arcea crouched down, eyes scanning the trail.
“There’s more beastman footprints here,” she muttered, brushing a hand through the dirt. “Fresh ones.”

Ash nodded silently, his boots crunching against the gravel as he moved ahead. The trail wound upward along the mountain’s edge, its incline steep but steady. As they climbed, the wind picked up, thin and dry, whistling through jagged outcroppings.

Halfway up the trail, Ash stopped and stepped onto a wide, flat rock that jutted out over the ridge. He pulled out his scope, swept it across the horizon, and paused.

“There,” he said, pointing toward the valley below. He passed the scope to Arcea and guided her hand toward the right.

She peered through it. Just a few hundred feet off the trail, partly hidden by brush and sloping earth, were fresh wagon tracks, etched deeply into the ground.

They quickly descended the slope to investigate. Arcea ran her fingers through the wheel ruts.
“Are these trails old too?” she asked.

Ash crouched beside her, touching the compressed dirt.
“No. These are recent. Looks like they’ve been running trips back and forth for a while now. At least five… six if we count the trail back near the ruins. This one right here? I'd say it was made today.”

He stood and stared down the line of tracks.
“We just missed them. Not sure where they’re headed, but judging by the gap between the trails, they space them out by days. If they’re almost done moving people, there might only be one trip left.”

He turned toward the higher trail.
“I spotted a cave further ahead. Might be a good place to check. If we’re lucky, we’ll find some of them holed up in there.”

Arcea gave a sharp grin and followed quickly behind as they made their way up the rocky slope.

But when they reached the cave entrance, Ash’s expression shifted.

“No beastman tracks,” he muttered. The clawed footprints continued farther up the path — past the cave. “They didn’t stop here.”

Instead, a different kind of track caught his eye. He knelt down, brushing away loose debris.

“Boot prints,” he said quietly. “Human. In and out.”

He stepped cautiously inside. The cave was shallow but dry — maybe twenty feet deep. It was just wide enough for a small camp. Inside were the remains of an old fire pit, a rusted iron pot, a rough bedroll, and a sack filled with unrefined shards, broken tools, and some cut rope.

Arcea stepped in beside him.
“Is this someone’s home?”

“No,” Ash said, looking over the sleeping gear. “More likely an explorer or shard-hunter camped here. Probably came looking for shards and shelter. If they were still using this place… they’re either captured or long gone.”

He let out a quiet breath. “Still. It'll work for us.”

He turned to Arcea.
“Open my bag. Pull out the bedroll and set it up near the far wall. I’m going to get some firewood and prep the barrier.”

Arcea got to work without a word. Ash stepped out into the mountainside again, gathering kindling and half-dried branches from nearby brush. When he returned, he placed it next to the dead fire pit and began clearing the area.

Then he reached into one of the side compartments of his pack and pulled out a small, rectangular device — metal, slightly worn, with faint etchings along its surface.

Arcea looked over, her curiosity piqued.
“What’s that?”

Ash didn’t answer immediately. He turned the device over in his hands, brushing dust from the casing. Then he spoke.

“This was your mother’s. It’s called a barrier shield. Old-world tech. She used to carry it when we traveled.”

He knelt near the entrance and dug a small hole in the dirt floor, just deep enough to fit the device snugly. After planting it, he flipped open a hidden side compartment to reveal a recessed button. He pressed it.

A soft hum filled the cave, and a thin blue line lit up across the exposed top of the device. A moment later, a shimmering wall of blue energy flickered to life across the mouth of the cave, sealing it shut with a low buzz.

Nothing else. No flash. No noise. Just a perfect, translucent barrier — humming gently in the dark.

Ash stood and dusted off his hands.

“Nothing’s getting through that. Beasts, beastmen — doesn’t matter. We’re safe tonight.”

Arcea stared at the glowing barrier, wide-eyed.
“…That’s so cool.”

Ash gave her a faint smirk.
“Yeah. It is.”

Ash started the fire near the old ring of stones and pulled out food for dinner — supplies he’d purchased back in Bernswick Village. He unlatched a metal container from his pack, its lid embedded with a small ice shard, still pulsing faintly with blue light. The shard kept the box cold even in the dry heat of the day.

He popped the lid open and pulled out a pair of sandwiches, handing one to Arcea as he sat down beside the fire.

They ate in relative silence, the only sounds the occasional crack of flame and the distant hiss of wind outside the cave mouth. The barrier shimmered softly in the background, casting a faint blue glow on the walls.

After the meal, Arcea stood up and began wandering deeper into the cave. Her footsteps echoed faintly as she ran her hand along the rocky walls. But then — something made her stop.

“Dad?” she called. “Why does this wall look weird? It’s all… brick-y. Like the sides of houses.”

Ash stood and walked over to the back of the cave where Arcea was pointing. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Ahh… you found some old, undisturbed ruins,” he muttered.

Arcea tilted her head.

“These don’t look like the other ruins we saw… Why are the walls still all neat like this?”

Ash knelt beside the strange wall and ran a hand across the surface. Unlike the natural stone around it, this section had clearly defined lines — ancient bricks, half-fused by time and pressure.

“It’s something most people overlook. Or don’t even know about. But I’ll tell you,” he said, leaning back slightly.

“A long time ago — a thousand years, maybe more, nobody’s really sure — the Shattered Lands used to be part of a much bigger world. The planet was beautiful, massive. You could walk across entire continents. There were oceans so wide they looked like sky, and thousands of animals in every direction.”

Arcea’s eyes grew wide.
“Really?”

“Yeah,” Ash nodded. “But then a cataclysm happened. Something massive — no one knows exactly what. It shattered the planet. Broke it apart. Huge chunks of land were thrown into the sky. Some crashed into each other. Others drifted away. Sometimes, when those pieces smashed together, they buried old towns or cities deep inside the new land. Like this one.”

He tapped the bricks gently.
“When I used to take mining jobs in Gears, we’d hit pockets like this. Whole underground rooms, sealed off for centuries. Sometimes there’s junk… but sometimes, you find things worth keeping.”

Arcea’s expression brightened into a huge smile. Her hands trembled slightly with excitement.

“You mean we can look inside? Maybe find treasure!?”

Ash chuckled softly.
“Maybe. Want to help me open it?”

“Yes!” she shouted, practically bouncing in place.

Ash stepped forward and pulled out what looked like a simple metal handle from a compartment on his belt — sleek, compact, with a small black button along the grip. He held it up for a moment, then clicked it.

A thin beam of energy shot out with a low hum, illuminating the tight space between two bricks.

It was the same beam dagger he had used the night he rescued Iris.

He shoved the blade between the bricks, and the beam hissed as it carved effortlessly through the centuries of stone and dust. One by one, he traced the perimeter, loosening the edges and cutting through the sealed mortar.

After a few minutes, he stepped back and powered the weapon down with a quiet snap.
He slipped it back into his belt.

“Alright,” he said, nodding toward the stone.
“Go ahead and push it.”

Arcea walked up to the loosened wall and pressed her hands against the old stone.
With a low groan, the brick face shifted — then gave way completely, collapsing inward with a soft thud. A cloud of thick dust burst from the opening, swirling into the air like mist, disturbed for the first time in over a thousand years.

Ash stepped forward, eyes narrowing. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small circular device about the size of his palm. He slotted a white core shard into the side of it — the device pulsed once, then cast out a gentle white glow, illuminating the dust-choked air.

He held it ahead and stepped cautiously into the ruin.
Arcea followed close behind.

The space beyond the wall was small — the inside of what must have once been a house. The walls were stone, curved slightly inward from years of pressure. A collapsed ceiling beam lay broken on one side. Furniture, or what was left of it, had been flung around the room — shattered pottery, snapped wood, rusted metal. Time had turned everything into a graveyard of fragments.

Ash scanned the room carefully, then stopped.

A slow grin crept across his face.

He crouched beside something half-hidden under a broken chair and called out,
“Hey Arcea. Come look at this.”

She padded over, crouching beside him. Her eyes swept the floor, frowning.
“I don’t see anything.”

“Look to your right,” Ash said casually.

She turned — just as the light flickered out.

“Hey—what happened to the—”

Click.

The light flared back on — and right in front of her face was a skull, its empty sockets staring straight at her.

“AHHHHH!” Arcea shrieked, stumbling backward and landing flat on her back.

Ash broke into laughter, nearly dropping the light.
“Haha—! That’s for earlier!” he managed between gasps.

Arcea sat up, scowling.
“That’s mean, Dad!”

Ash wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling.
“I’m sorry… haha… couldn’t help it.”

He reached into the debris beside the skull and pulled something free.
“Here, found something better anyway.”

He held out a small pendant — a circular charm with runes carved around the outer rim. In the center sat a dark blue gem, cloudy but faintly pulsing as it caught the light.

Arcea’s expression softened, her eyes sparkling.

Ash leaned forward and gently slipped the cord over her head.

“There. Your first treasure,” he said with a quiet smile. “Take it.”

She looked down at the pendant, then back up at him.
“Is this a shard?”

Ash shrugged.
“I have no idea. Back then they had all sorts of things we don’t anymore. When I worked the mines in Gears, we’d find stuff like this buried in the old pockets. Sometimes we'd try to reverse-engineer them, but most were impossible to figure out. Magic was more common back then — way more than now.”

Arcea nodded, still staring at the pendant as it rested against her chest.

They explored the ruin a little more, but nothing else seemed valuable. Most of the structure had collapsed long ago, and the remaining rooms were either sealed shut or filled with debris too heavy to move.

Eventually, they stepped back into the main cave. The barrier still shimmered faintly, but outside its edges, the world had gone pitch black.

Ash peered through the glowing shield, then looked up.
“Night Stone’s passed overhead,” he said. “We should get some sleep. Another long day tomorrow.”

Arcea yawned and stretched.
“Alright.”

They lay down beside the dying fire, the embers pulsing low and red. Ash pulled a thin blanket over them both, and the flicker of light slowly faded as the long night settled in.

The next day, they awoke, packed their things, and ate a quick breakfast. Then Arcea stepped outside and took a deep breath of fresh air.

She grabbed her makeshift weapon and gripped it hard. With a creak and groan of metal under pressure, she bent the warped shaft back into place, straightening it with a grunt of effort.

"All better," she said, giving it an approving nod.

Ash stepped out after her, stretching as he took in the morning air. His eyes drifted to the warped metal in her hand. For a moment, he considered forging her a proper weapon — a giant one built to her size. But then he remembered the bend that weapon took yesterday. Crafted steel probably wouldn't last a day in her hands.

He stepped up beside her.
"You ready to continue?"

Arcea nodded, flashing a big smile. Together, they continued up the dirt path, following the faint trail of footprints that led into the looming mouth of a giant cave.

Fortunately, the cave wasn't dark. Shafts of natural light poured through cracks in the ceiling above, illuminating the stone path that wound up the hill. The exit was visible at the top — a glowing slit of blue light where the cave opened again into daylight.

Ash paused just inside the entrance, his eyes flicking upward. Small, pale figures hid within cracks and holes scattered across the cave walls and ceiling — cave mutants.

"We need to be careful," he said quietly. "Try to make as little noise as possible. This cave has lurker mutants."

Arcea tilted her head. "Are they really dangerous?"

Ash nodded. "Yes and no. If you know they're there, they're easy to avoid or kill. They're blind — rely entirely on sound to find prey. But if you’re not paying attention, they’ll ambush you the moment you make too much noise."

Arcea glanced around nervously. Her eyes darted from crack to shadow, scanning the walls and ceiling. The once-still silence now felt oppressive. Something about the way those narrow holes gaped open made her stomach twist.

"I don’t see any monsters," she whispered, her voice suddenly unsure.

Ash pointed silently to one particularly dark fissure in the stone wall — no wider than her wrist.

"They hide inside those. Their bodies are... wrong. Flexible, like melted wax. They can fold and squirm themselves into shapes that shouldn't be possible — almost liquid. They curl into cracks you’d swear were empty. But the second they hear something — a footstep, a whisper, even your breath — they lunge."

Arcea swallowed hard, her shoulders tightening.

"They’re snake-like," Ash continued quietly, "but with insect legs that clamp down and hold you still. Then come the tentacles — thick as a man's thumb, each about a foot long, lined with rows of sharp razor teeth at the tip of the tenticle. One bite paralyzes you and it will not let go. Then they drain you, sucking out all your insides slow and careful. Like they enjoy it."

A cold shiver ran down Arcea’s spine. She gave a stiff, silent nod, her eyes now wide and unblinking as she looked again at the walls.

"Let’s move. Stay close," Ash whispered.

They crept up the winding path, every step measured and silent. The usual sounds of their gear — the scuff of boots, the sway of metal — were absent. Arcea’s breaths came shallow and quiet. Her arms ached from holding her weapon aloft, but she didn’t dare let it drag.

As they moved deeper, the cave closed in, the walls pressing tighter. Shadows flickered above, and more than once, Arcea caught sight of something — movement — just barely retreating into the cracks.

Her heart thudded louder than her steps. Her eyes wouldn’t stop darting. Every crevice felt like it watched her.

Finally, the light ahead brightened. The tunnel narrowed to a point where only one could pass at a time.

Ash stepped out into the light first. He turned to wait.

Arcea ducked low — and the top of her weapon scraped the rock above the exit.

Her eyes went wide in horror.

From the ceiling behind her, something uncoiled.

Ash moved before she could scream, driving his polearm over her shoulder.

The blade impaled the lurker mid-air, severing its shriek in a burst of wet gurgling. Its spider-like legs thrashed, latching to the walls before spasming violently. The tentacles flailed around the blade, blindly seeking purchase as the creature writhed.

Ash twisted, yanked the weapon free, and the mutant collapsed in a heap behind Arcea. Its long, tubular body slithered limply out of the hole it had called home, twitching once before going still.

She had fallen to the ground, breathing heavily.

Ash dropped beside her and pulled her into a hug.
"You alright?"

Arcea nodded after a moment, still catching her breath. "Yeah… just panicked when the weapon scraped the exit."

Ash patted her head gently.
"That’s fine. You’ll get used to things like this with time. That’s why we didn’t want you to leave home until you were stronger. There are a lot of scary things out here."

Arcea looked up at him, face pale. "I don’t want to be paralyzed and have my insides sucked out."

She paused, then added quietly:
"I think I understand now why you and Mom always want me to practice and get stronger. I’ll stay home and train harder after this adventure. I promise."

Ash gave her a small smile and stood.

They started walking again, heading up the hill trail beyond the cave. After a few steps, Ash stopped suddenly. Arcea bumped into his back.

"Why’d you stop?"

Ash narrowed his eyes.
"That’s it," he said. "The paralytic poison the beastmen used — they must be harvesting it from the lurkers."

Arcea blinked. "How is that a good thing?"

Ash turned to her.
"After I talked to the witness, I went shopping for food and supplies. Because he mentioned the venom, I picked up a few antivenom core orbs. If it’s the same kind of poison, they should work. We both need to carry one."

He looked at her red dress and frowned.
"You really need to start wearing a belt. Or something with pockets."

He unbuckled his own belt and strapped it tightly around her waist. Then he pulled out three orbs and placed them into the attached pouch.

"This dark green one is the antivenom. This light green one will heal your wounds. And this light blue one will create an ice explosion."

He placed each orb inside, then tucked the rest into the pockets of his jacket.

Ash gave her a final nod of approval, lifted his polearm, and motioned forward.
"Alright. Let’s continue. We’ve got tracks to follow."

They pressed on, continuing up the long, winding trail.

Eventually, they made it to the top of the Outlook Mountains. The summit stretched out flat and wide, a plateau blanketed in soft grass and scattered trees that rustled gently in the wind.

Ash scanned the ground, tracking the faint indentations left behind.
"Looks like the beastmen’s trail continues west from here," he said. "But first... come take a look at this."

They walked to the ridge together. As they reached the edge, Ash gestured outward.

"Look at that."

Arcea’s eyes widened.

Below them stretched the vast expanse of the Shattered Lands. The planet’s massive core glowed with ethereal light at the center of the world, its radiance bathing everything in an otherworldly hue. Slowly drifting around it, the night stones moved in their ancient rhythm, casting long shadows across the broken terrain. Countless small floating islands hovered in the void, and far to the north, a colossal landmass loomed — its edges cracked and jagged, partially swallowed by mist.

Arcea stared in awe, her voice barely a whisper.
"Wow..."

Then her gaze dropped toward the base of the mountain. Nestled among the forest canopy was something dark and overgrown.
She pointed.
"What’s that? It looks like an old city..."

Ash followed her finger and gave a slow nod.
"Yeah. That’s an ancient city — long abandoned. Nature’s been reclaiming it for centuries. You can barely tell what’s stone and what’s tree anymore. The forest devoured it. And it’s been crumbling ever since."

Arcea tilted her head.
"Why was it abandoned?"

Ash’s tone grew thoughtful.
"After the cataclysm, the city survived... barely. But it was cut off by these mountains. Worse, the land beneath it became unstable — earthquakes, landslides, cracks in the ground. The terrain started falling away, piece by piece, down into the Dark Lands below. People hung on for a while, but eventually, it just wasn’t safe. They left. The trail we used to get up here — it’s the same one they used to escape, centuries ago."

Arcea leaned forward, eyes bright.
"Are we going down there? To the ruins?"

"Probably," Ash said. "The beastmen’s trail leads toward the entrance of a cave that cuts through the mountain. It comes out right at the edge of those ruins. If they’re hiding, that’s the most likely place."

"How do you know about the path?" she asked, curiosity bubbling in her voice.

Ash gave a small smirk.
"I’ve been to that city more times than I can count. Back when I worked with Toby, we had jobs that took us down there — gathering rare herbs, hunting strange animals, salvaging old tech. That city’s full of things you won’t find anywhere else. But it’s always changing. Forest’s reclaiming everything. Earthquakes shift entire streets overnight. Every visit, it’s a new maze. Pain in the ass, honestly."

He turned from the ridge, glancing toward the trail that continued west.
"Come on. Let’s keep following the tracks."

They pressed on, stepping carefully as the wind swept across the mountain top, the ancient city looming quietly in the distance.

After about thirty minutes of hiking, a scream echoed through the air.

“Help! Help! You people over there—please, help me!”

Ash snapped his gaze toward the sound. In the distance, a tall tree stood out above the others — and around its base, a pack of vicious beasts circled, snarling and growling, their bodies tense and ready to pounce.

Arcea’s eyes widened. “Could that be one of the farmhands?”

Ash nodded. “It might be. Looks like they got lucky and managed to escape… but we need to be careful.” He pointed toward the beasts. “Those are Yeth beasts. Pack hunters. See that stripe running down their backs? The color tells you what element they can use.

Arcea narrowed her eyes, observing the creatures swarming the tree. They moved with unnerving coordination — four-legged predators with thick, matted fur and a glowing stripe running down their spines to the base of their furless, sinewy tails. Their wide, gaping maws were filled with jagged teeth, and their long circular tongues coiled and snapped in anticipation.

She began to count. “Two red… one light blue… one brown… one yellow… and one white.”

The man trapped in the tree shouted again. “Hey! Are you just gonna stand there? Hurry up and save me!”

One of the beasts turned toward Ash and Arcea, letting out a sharp Growl. The others perked their ears, and in an instant, the entire pack surged toward them, sprinting low and fast.

Ash stepped forward. “You watch my back. I’ll watch yours. Just like I taught you. Don’t forget to use the orbs if you need them.”

Arcea nodded firmly and raised her makeshift weapon. “Got it.”

The red-striped beast, the fastest of the pack, reached them first. It leapt at Ash with jaws wide open — but he stepped forward and thrust his polearm straight through its chest. Without wasting a second, he pivoted, swinging the dying creature’s body into the brown-striped beast and pinning it under the weight of the corpse.

That left his back wide open.

The light-blue beast lunged toward him, fangs glowing with frost.

Arcea moved in, her weapon arcing through the air. With a powerful swing, she smashed it into the beast’s ribs. The impact sent a sharp crack echoing through the clearing as the creature slammed into the ground and rolled, stunned.

But the yellow-striped Yeth beast came next. It barreled toward Arcea and slammed into her weapon with enough force to rattle her bones. Before she could recover, its body surged with electricity. A shockwave burst from its fur, surging through Arcea’s arms and knocking her off her feet.

As she hit the ground, dazed, the beast opened its mouth, ready to bite down.

Ash moved in a blur — his polearm slashed across the air and cleaved into the creature’s skull, splitting it clean in half. Its upper jaw slid to the ground with a wet smack, brains spilling across the grass.

“Get up, Arcea!” he shouted.

But the white-striped beast was already upon him.

It leapt, jaws wide. Ash jammed the shaft of his weapon sideways into its mouth, holding it at bay. Its gem began to glow — and a blinding white light erupted from it, searing into Ash’s vision.

Disoriented, he stumbled back, and the creature pounced on top of him. He gritted his teeth, still forcing the beast back with the polearm.

Arcea scrambled to her feet, only for a sudden burst of flame to ignite the ground in front of her — the red-striped Yeth beast had returned, its mouth glowing with built-up fire.

She jumped back, avoiding the blaze, but sharp pain tore through her arm — the blue-striped beast, still alive beneath a coat of thick ice armor that had protected it from her first strike, sank its frigid fangs into her flesh. Frost spread rapidly across her skin as it shook her like a ragdoll, trying to tear her apart.

She gritted her teeth, dug her feet into the earth, and held firm. The red beast leapt again — straight for her. She used all her strength to pivot and slam the blue beast’s body into the air. The red beast’s jaws closed on its packmate instead, tearing into the frozen flesh.

The blue beast’s grip loosened. Arcea ripped her arm free and, with a furious roar, grabbed her weapon. She brought it down with a crushing blow, smashing the beast’s skull into a spray of blood, bone, and shattered fangs.

The red-striped beast began to glow again — building another fireburst in its throat.

“Not this time,” Arcea growled.

She charged and jammed her massive blade straight into its mouth. The slab of metal rammed down its gullet, jamming against the throat like a cork in a bottle. The beast’s eyes bulged as its body convulsed — flames began to swell in its neck, building pressure behind the obstruction. With nowhere to go, the fire surged backward, and then its chest erupted in a violent blast, ribs snapping outward as a geyser of flame and gore burst free, showering the clearing with its scorched entrails.

Ash, still straining beneath the white beast, winced and turned his head away as Arcea swung at it — but the creature leapt back at the last second, avoiding her strike

Then the brown-striped beast struck from the side. Its tail, now armored with compacted earth, slammed into Arcea and sent her tumbling.

Ash rose to his feet and intercepted it, swinging at the creature’s head — but it blocked the attack with its hardened tail. At the same time, the white beast lunged again and bit into Ash’s leg, trying to pull him down. Ash roared and drove the butt of his polearm into the beast’s eye socket. It let go immediately, whimpering and staggering away.

The brown beast growled low, its stone-covered hide cracking as it shifted into motion. With surprising speed for its bulk, it lunged at Ash, jaws wide and tail sweeping sideways. Ash twisted just in time, the stony tail slamming into the ground where he’d stood a second before, sending up a spray of broken earth.

It didn't stop. The beast followed up with another lunge, its tail whipping again — this time, faster. Ash raised his polearm, parrying the impact with a grunt as the reinforced shaft groaned under the force. The vibrations ran up his arms, but he held steady, stepping back to keep distance. He needed to wait — just a little longer.

Another charge. The brown beast slammed its weight forward, jaws snapping just short of Ash’s shoulder as he pivoted, using the shaft of his polearm to deflect its head to the side. Dust and grit flew into the air, masking his movement. Ash’s eyes narrowed. Almost there.

The beast reared back, its maw opening wider than before — a clear, reckless bite.

Now.

Ash surged forward, thrusting his fist — orb clenched tightly — straight into the creature’s throat.

The orb cracked in his fist.

The beast froze.

Its body convulsed. Water poured from its jaws as it began choking and retching. Ash seized the moment and thrust his polearm deep into its throat. The beast spasmed, then collapsed, mud and blood seeping from its mouth.

Ash turned and rushed to Arcea, helping her up.

They stood side by side, breathing heavily, weapons raised. as ash felt the sensation again of the armguard making him slightly stronger again as the soul gem converted the dead beasts into his power. ash felt better than ever.

“One more to go,” Ash said. “You still good?”

Arcea nodded, wincing but grinning. “Piece of cake.”

The white-striped beast roared, its gem flashing with violent light — but before it could attack, a spike of metal shot through its skull from behind.

The beast collapsed in a heap.

A man stood behind the beast, breathing hard, his pickaxe dripping with blood. But he wasn’t done — he slammed it into the corpse again and again, cursing under his breath until the white-striped creature was no more than a shredded mess.

He looked to be in his late twenties, tall and lean, with a wiry frame built more for endurance than brute strength. Faded red-brown hair fell around his face in messy, uneven locks, and a short stubbled beard clung to his jaw. His green eyes, sharp and alert, gleamed with equal parts relief and frustration.

He wore a simple beige shirt beneath a harness rigged with utility straps, glowing core orbs locked into metal slots across his chest. A large messenger bag hung at his side, heavy with supplies. His black gloves and rolled-up sleeves suggested a man used to getting his hands dirty, while the short sword strapped to his belt marked him as more than just a miner. Multiple tools — including spare rods, chisels, and flare canisters — were strapped to the back of his harness.

Despite the blood and chaos, he gave them a crooked, almost sheepish smile.

Ash turned to Arcea. “Use your healing orb.”

They both grabbed their orbs, smashing them against their chests. A soft glow washed over their bodies, closing wounds and numbing the pain.

Then they approached the man, who was now furiously kicking the beast’s corpse.

“You okay?” Ash asked.

The man gave the body one final stomp before turning around. He looked rough — tired, bruised, clothes torn — but his face split into a wide, grateful smile.

“Thank you! I thought I was a goner back there. You really saved my ass.” He stepped forward and offered his hand. “Name’s Jack. Nice to meet you.”