Val Haran Reinforcement Squad – En Route to Astera
POV: Captain Serik
The wind howled above the clouds.
From the back of the flying transport wyvern, Captain Serik narrowed his eyes against the gale. Below, the New World spread like an endless sea of green, shadowed by cloud and sun. Mountains rose like spears in the far west, and somewhere beyond them lay Astera—and the madness waiting for them.
Four wyverns soared in formation, each bearing one of the Val Haran Guild Elite. Armor blackened with soot and hardened steel glinted in the morning light. The hunters didn't speak much. They never did before a high-risk hunt.
Serik finally broke the silence. "This is not a standard engagement."
His voice carried through the wind. The squad turned slightly to hear him clearer.
"We're not here for a rampaging Zinogre. This isn't some rogue Bazel." His tone dropped. "We're hunting a Gore Magala. And not just any—one that unleashed Frenzy Rain. That has never happened before. That makes this... new."
The woman flying nearest him—Tessara, glaive-user and Frenzy pathology expert—grimaced beneath her mask. "A biological anomaly like that isn't natural. Gore Magala don't 'evolve' without reason. If it rained Frenzy spores, then this one's body is destabilizing."
"The Guild believes the monster fixated on a civilian," said the heavy bowgunner, Rannick, voice dry. "A survivor. Boy named Nurazam. Supposedly came from... somewhere else. Got infected, didn't die."
"They always think it's random," muttered Tessara. "It never is."
A fourth voice—calm, low—came from Silien, their longsword specialist and most experienced in Elder Dragon suppression. "We're walking into the unknown. Again. Like we did in the Narsca Wastes. Like Yama Tsukami over Thundercradle."
Serik nodded. "Except this time, we're not facing a known Elder Dragon. Gore Magala's pre-awakened form is unpredictable. Intelligent. It stalks. It obsesses. And it infects everything around it."
He leaned forward slightly in his saddle. "When we land in Astera, we make immediate contact with Commander Harlan. Then we assess the boy—Nurazam—and the condition of the local hunters. Anyone already exposed to large amounts of Frenzy may be compromised."
"Think the Guild's wrong?" asked Rannick.
"I think they're being careful," Serik replied. "But the fact they only dispatched us four, and not a full battalion, means they think this is containable. It rarely is."
Tessara exhaled, cold mist leaving her lips despite the altitude. "I studied the Frenzy Virus for three years. It's like a parasite that rewrites everything it touches—body, mind, instinct. If this Gore Magala has fixated on a human host… it's already behaving unnaturally."
Silien finally spoke again. "Then our job is simple: break the bond. Kill the monster."
None of them spoke for a moment.
Below, the clouds began to break, and far on the horizon—barely visible—was the tip of Astera's tallest watchtower, rising from the cliffs like a warning fang.
Serik's eyes narrowed.
"Eyes sharp. We touch ground in one hour. And we hunt at dusk."
---
The flight had been smooth.
For the first few hours, the Val Haran Squad soared above the coastal windstreams, high over the blue sea—just another long deployment in their years of monster hunting. Nothing they hadn't seen before. Their wyverns glided in a perfect V-formation. The sun dipped low on the horizon behind them, painting the sea gold.
Then the sky changed.
It began with a shift in light. The warmth bled away. Shadows stretched longer than they should. The air, which had been crisp and filled with salt, became… stale.
Heavy.
Wrong.
Captain Serik felt it before he saw it—an instinct carved into his bones after a hundred hunts. His fingers tightened on the reins of his wyvern. Behind him, Tessara and Rannick grew quiet, scanning the clouds ahead.
"Where's the sun?" Silien asked, squinting forward.
The answer came in silence.
There was no sun anymore—only a spreading violet haze, a bruise across the heavens, stretching unnaturally across the horizon.
Tessara blinked rapidly. "What… what is that?"
Then they saw it—Astera, barely visible in the distance, nestled into the cliffs.
But above it, the sky was warping. Thunderclouds spun in slow, tight spirals. Lightning flashed—not in silver arcs, but in jagged bolts of amethyst. The clouds weren't just dark—they pulsed, like something alive.
"…That's not a storm," Rannick muttered.
"Looks like it's bleeding," Silien whispered, voice cracking. "The sky—it's… dripping."
The clouds opened.
And then, something impossible rose into view:
The moon.
But not as they had ever seen it. It was wrong. Too large. Too low. Too alive.
It pulsed like a wounded heart, soaked in hues of violet, black, and blood-red. Veins of light ran through it like rot, and a corona of spore-laced mist bled from its surface, falling in waves toward the world below.
Serik stood in his saddle. He didn't speak. None of them did.
Because now the rain began.
But it wasn't water.
Tiny, glowing motes, like drifting snow, floated down from the sky. Serik reached out, catching one on his glove. It shimmered in violet light—beautiful, at first—before it hissed and vanished into his gauntlet, leaving behind a faint, burning mark.
Tessara let out a soft gasp. "That's… that's not water. That's not ice."
"Sporefall," Serik breathed. "Frenzy spores. By the Five—this is Frenzy Rain."
"But… this isn't possible!" Rannick snapped. "Frenzy doesn't work like this. We've fought Gore Magala before! This isn't normal—it's like the damn sky is infected!"
Their wyverns screamed, jerking in mid-air. The lead wyvern veered hard, clearly trying to avoid flying into the thickening clouds.
The atmosphere was suffocating now—oppressive, as if the sky itself were pressing down on their lungs.
Then, from far below—a sound split the world.
A shriek.
Low and guttural at first, then rising into a scream that cracked across the sky like shattering glass. It wasn't from a throat, but from something deeper—older. A sound from something that did not belong in this world.
The squad froze.
"…That was Gore Magala," Silien whispered.
"No," Serik said quietly. "That was something worse. Something broken."
They could see it now—through the mist, streaking across the edge of the storm: a vast shadow, winged and twitching, trailing purple fire in its wake. Gore Magala, flying erratically, as if fighting something inside itself. Its wings were jagged, uneven. Its entire body shimmered with corrupted light.
"Gods preserve us," Rannick muttered, eyes wide. "It's infected the sky…"
Serik's voice was calm, but low and urgent. "Form up. No hesitation. We land at Astera and secure the area. Make contact with the local Commander immediately."
"But, sir—"
"Do not question," Serik snapped. "We're walking into something no hunter has ever faced before. Stay sharp. Don't breathe the rain."
Below them, Astera's warning bells were ringing. Lanterns flickered in towers. People were gathering in the courtyard. And the rain—the rain continued.
As the Val Haran Squad descended, none of them could shake the feeling in their chest:
That this wasn't just a hunt.
This was a reckoning.
---
Location: Astera, Main Assembly Hall
POV: Mixed (Captain Serik, Commander, Kael, Ria)
The Val Haran Squad's wyverns landed hard on Astera's central platform, talons scraping against the stone as the beasts shrieked and reared, spooked by the air soaked in frenzied spores. The rain of violet motes drifted down still, though slower now, more like a snowstorm had passed and left behind its poison.
Captain Serik dismounted, his boots slamming onto the wooden planks slick with glowing dust. He looked up. The sky was still purple-black, the grotesque moon leering down through torn clouds like a voyeur god.
At the top of the stairs, Commander Sharenn was already waiting, flanked by Kael, Ria, and several field medics. His face was carved in stone, but his eyes flickered with visible concern.
"You must be the Val Haran Squad," the Commander said. "You made good time."
"And you've got an infection in your sky," Serik replied grimly, pulling off his helmet. His hair was soaked in sweat, and his jaw was set tight. "Is that what you called us for, or is it worse?"
"Much worse," Kael answered. "Come with us. There's a briefing underway."
---
Location: Astera War Room
Participants: Commander Sharenn, Kael, Ria, Captain Serik, Val Haran Squad, Guild Representatives
The room was dark, torchlit, thick with the smell of parchment, sweat, and tension. A wide table in the center bore a map of the Wildspire Wastes and its outskirts. Across the walls, sketches of Gore Magala and notes on Frenzy behavior were pinned, many of them smudged with frantic corrections.
A Guild envoy—Scholar Halren, a man in long black robes with silver embroidery—stood at the table's far end.
He turned as the Val Haran Squad entered. "You came just in time. We need your expertise more than ever."
Serik crossed his arms. "We've hunted Gore Magala before. Many times. But this—" he gestured upward—"isn't normal. The sky, the rain, the behavior… it's like the ecosystem's rejecting itself."
Halren gave a solemn nod.
"We believe Gore Magala is undergoing an unnatural phase. Possibly induced by prolonged exposure to an unstable Frenzy ecosystem—or by a foreign trigger."
Ria frowned. "A trigger?"
Kael stiffened but didn't speak.
Halren continued, gesturing to a sketch of the infected moon and spreading clouds.
"Gore Magala typically seeks isolation while evolving into Shagaru Magala. It avoids prolonged contact with settlements. But this one—this specimen—is exhibiting obsessive patterns. Territorial rage. Fixation on one individual."
His eyes flicked, for just a moment, toward Kael. Then back to the map.
Serik scowled. "And this 'obsession'… it's the survivor, isn't it? The one infected?"
Kael stepped forward. "His name is Nurazam."
Halren didn't flinch. "Yes. The boy's connection to the Frenzy is unprecedented. His infection didn't kill him. Instead, Gore Magala has shown repeated tracking behavior. Defensive aggression when he's removed. The Frenzy Rain began immediately after their separation."
Tessara, one of Serik's squad, muttered, "You're saying the Gore Magala is emotionally bound to a human?"
"No," Halren said coldly. "I'm saying it's biologically fixated. There's a difference. We believe it sees Nurazam not as prey—but as anchor. Possibly a Frenzy vector. Maybe even a stabilizer."
Ria clenched her fists. "Then we have to kill it before it gets worse."
Halren placed a finger on the map. "We believe Gore Magala has constructed a temporary nesting ground here—within the Collapsed Ruins of Sien'Torr, west of the Wildspire Wastes. A location marked by ancient spires and pre-Commission architecture. Dangerous terrain. No supply lines."
"Of course," Serik said bitterly. "Why would it be easy."
The Commander stepped in now, voice grave. "We've already lost two scout teams in that area. No corpses recovered. Only weapons. Shattered."
"Then you'll need more than a kill team," Serik said. "You'll need siege support, counter-Frenzy units, purge bombs—"
"We have them," Halren said. "Your wyverns carried modified equipment. We're equipping you with Frenzy Suppressant Vials, Purge Shrouds, and enhanced resistance gear. Everything we've developed since the outbreak in the Old World."
Kael asked, quietly, "What happens if the Gore Magala becomes Shagaru?"
Halren's face darkened. "Then the Frenzy Rain will become a Frenzy Storm. And this continent will bleed."
Silence.
The Commander cleared his throat. "The Guild is placing its trust in Val Haran. Your team is to strike deep into the Sien'Torr ruins and eliminate the threat. Ria will accompany you as liaison. Kael will lead the extraction if Nurazam is drawn into the fray again."
Serik nodded, his voice grim. "Understood. We move at dawn."
Ria raised a hand. "One more thing—what about the spores falling from the sky?"
Halren looked to the ceiling as if staring at the corrupted moon beyond the beams.
"We don't know," he said at last. "But we believe they're waking something else."