The world below had changed again.
Fields stretched further now—rows of organized crops instead of random clusters of wild roots.
Roads of hardened clay connected small colonies to a central hub, where larger stone buildings marked the birth of something approaching government. Primitive but progressing.
Fenrir stood atop his tower, arms folded, the mana-rich wind brushing against him like breath.
Fires burned in the night below, but not the destructive kind—these were fires of labor, of survival, of civilization. The humans had learned quickly.
And so had he.
A faint tone echoed beside him.
[Karma total: 15. Direct interference available at 10 karma. Proceed?]
Fenrir tilted his head slightly.
"So I finally made it."
