The forest was too quiet.
Even the wind refused to stir the leaves.
Only the hum of data streams whispered between the trees — faint pulses of green light crawling across bark like veins beneath skin.
Aiden stood in the clearing, half-shrouded in mist. His eyes reflected lines of running code that shimmered across the ground. The forest zone — Verdant Expanse (v2.0) — had been rebuilt beautifully, every detail handcrafted to erase the memory of war.
And yet, he could still smell the ashes buried beneath the soil.
> "They can repaint the world," he murmured, "but they can't unburn it."
He raised his hand, letting the faint glow of golden code flicker between his fingers. The infection — his gift, his curse — pulsed faintly, alive, patient. Every tree around him was wired with it, hidden beneath perfect design.
He closed his eyes and listened.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, a new presence entered the zone — a player's signal.
Sharp. Controlled. Efficient.
A familiar frequency.
