The forest still smoked.
Charred leaves hung from blackened branches like burned paper, their edges glowing faintly with residual mana. The air was thick with the scent of ash and blood. Eion moved silently through the wreckage, his Core humming low and steady. Behind him, three Grinling scouts followed — the scarred one, whose name he had learned was Tarr, and two younger warriors.
They walked in single file, light as shadows. Even after the battle, the Grinlings had wasted no time mourning. Their dead had already been buried in the roots, their names whispered into the earth. Survival here was ritual, not grief.
Tarr stopped suddenly, crouching near the dirt. His clawed hand brushed over a patch of disturbed soil. "Tracks," he murmured. "Heavy feet. Six… maybe seven left."
Eion knelt beside him. The footprints were deep, precise. Military discipline. "The hunters that ran last night."
Tarr nodded. "They move north. Toward the river."
The System confirmed with its usual quiet pulse:
[Tracking Skill Progress +1]
[Trail Age: 5 hours. Human. Blood trace detected.]
Eion rose. "Then we move before they find reinforcements."
The youngest Grinling—barely waist-high, with bright amber eyes—hesitated. "Bright one hunts again so soon?"
"Bright one," he muttered. "I really need to teach you all about names."
Tarr gave a low chuckle, the sound oddly canine. "Names are earned in the forest. Perhaps today you earn yours."
They followed the trail for hours. The sun climbed high, filtering through the canopy in fractured gold. Each breath Eion took tasted faintly metallic; the air was still tainted by the mana storm's residue. Occasionally, a flicker of light darted between the trees — the echo of something still alive but not quite solid.
The forest whispered again, low and rhythmic. He wasn't sure if it was the wind or something deeper. Sometimes, when he focused, the whispers almost formed words.
You are not the first.
The message brushed his thoughts like static. He stopped, scanning the shadows. "Did you hear that?"
Tarr looked back. "Hear what?"
"Nothing." But his Core disagreed. It pulsed in short, uneven beats — not warning, but recognition.
They found the first signs of the outpost by midday. The scent of oil and iron overpowered the forest's musk. Ahead, the trees thinned to reveal a clearing carved from the wilderness — earth flattened by heavy boots, fencing of metal and bone.
Eion crouched at the treeline. The camp was crude but fortified: four tents surrounding a central cage of reinforced glass and runic steel. Inside the cage lay something glowing faintly blue.
Not a human.
Another Core.
[Data Match: Adaptive Core Fragment – Variant Class]
[Designation: Prototype #06]
His chest tightened. The notification pulsed again, overlapping with a faint hum in his own Core — a resonance like two notes of the same chord.
"She's close," he whispered. "Another like me."
Tarr frowned. "Another bright one?"
"Maybe brighter," Eion said quietly.
They watched as soldiers moved around the camp — a dozen at least, all wearing the chained sun of the White Flame over their armor. But one stood apart. A tall man in dark robes traced glowing sigils into the air, watching the captured Core pulse in response.
[Mage-Specialist Identified – Imperial Research Division]
So the Order wasn't working alone. They were collecting cores for the Empire.
Eion's mind raced. "They're not hunters," he murmured. "They're harvesters."
"What is inside that cage?" Tarr asked.
"Someone I need to meet."
Night fell before they acted.
The Grinlings melted into shadow while Eion circled wide. The forest had its own rhythm, and he moved with it, silent as mist. His new skill — Core Empathy — brushed against the emotional field of the camp. Most of the humans were bored, complacent. The mage, however, burned with anticipation — obsession wrapped in discipline.
Eion waited until the fires burned low, then moved.
He crossed the clearing in silence. The air shimmered faintly near the cage, thick with residual mana. Inside, the Core pulsed erratically — trying, failing to stabilize.
He reached out. The instant his fingers brushed the containment rune, his Core flared. The world shifted.
A voice echoed inside his mind — not his own.
—Who? Who calls me?—
Eion froze. The voice was female, distorted but alive.
"I'm like you," he whispered. "A prototype. Subject Seven."
—Subject… Seven. Then I am Six.—
The pulse grew stronger, erratic.
—They hurt me. Took me from the Maker's garden. I cannot wake.—
"I can get you out."
The Core responded with a flare of light. The containment rune flickered — just enough.
Eion's claws sliced through the lock. The ward shattered in a burst of mana that lit the night sky.
Alarms screamed.
[Alert: Hostiles Engaged – Combat State Initiated]
Eion whirled as the mage burst from his tent, hands blazing with fire. "Containment breach! Protect the specimen!"
Too late.
The Grinlings struck from the trees — silent arrows, blades of bone. Two soldiers fell before the mage could react. Eion charged through the chaos, his claws cutting through steel like fabric. He met the mage head-on.
"You dare—"
He didn't let him finish. A slash of claws tore through the man's glowing sigil mid-cast, unraveling the spell into raw light. The explosion knocked them both back.
[Enemy Defeated – Imperial Pyromancer (Lv. 6)]
[EXP +220]
When the smoke cleared, the camp was a ruin. Fires flickered across the wreckage, reflected in Eion's glowing eyes.
The Core in the cage hovered free now, stabilizing in the air. Its voice was weaker, but still there.
—Free… but fading.—
Eion reached out. "Then link to me. I'll carry you until you can reform."
Light enveloped his hands as the Core drifted into his chest. The world flashed white.
[Core Fusion Initiated]
[New Subsystem Integrated – Prototype #06 "Lyra"]
[Synchronization: 11%]
He gasped, the energy nearly overwhelming him. Then a new voice whispered in his thoughts — clear, soft, distinctly human.
Thank you, Eion.
When dawn came, the camp was ash. The Grinlings looted quietly, taking tools and food. Tarr approached, eyes bright in the rising light.
"You burn like the storm," he said. "The forest will remember this."
Eion looked north, where the river glimmered beyond the trees. "The Empire will too."
His Core pulsed, now with two rhythms. Lyra's voice drifted faintly within.
They'll come for us, you know.
"I know," he murmured. "Then we'll go find them first."
The wind rose, carrying the scent of iron and rain — and somewhere far away, another Core answered.
[Main Quest Updated: The Maker's Children]
[Objective: Seek the Source of the Adaptive Prototypes]
And with that, Eion took his first step toward war.