The road did not remain a road for long.
Stone cracked, then vanished beneath choking weeds and dark soil. Markers leaned at odd angles, their
inscriptions worn away as if time itself had chosen to forget them. Aron walked for hours without seeing
another soul.
That, he realized, was the first warning.
The maps Maerith had given him ended here.
Beyond this point, the Concord had stopped caring.
The air felt wrong—not corrupted, but uncontained. Magic moved freely here, unregulated by wards or
doctrine. Plants grew in strange, layered patterns. Some glowed faintly. Others recoiled when Aron passed.
The hunger stirred, alert.
Not hungry.
Interested.
Aron slowed.
Ahead, smoke curled lazily into the sky.
A village.
Or what remained of one.
Half the structures were collapsed inward, roofs consumed by thick moss. A broken shrine stood at the
center, its symbol chiseled away. Someone had tried to erase belief itself.
A scream cut through the stillness.
Aron ran.
He found them near the well.
Three Concord hunters.
Not in formation.
Relaxed.
A young man lay pinned against the stone rim, his arm twisted unnaturally. Green veins crawled beneath
his skin—uncontrolled growth, painful and lethal if left unchecked.
"A failed bloom," one hunter said casually. "Should've burned it early."
The hunger surged.
Aron stepped into view.
"Let him go," he said.
The hunters turned, startled.
One frowned. "This area's abandoned. You lost?"
Aron lifted his hood.
Recognition sparked.
Not certainty.
But suspicion.
The leader's hand drifted to his blade. "You look like the notice."
Aron exhaled slowly.
"I won't ask again."
They laughed.
The sound died quickly.
Roots erupted from the ground—not violent, not consuming. They wrapped the hunters' legs, pinning them
without drawing blood. Aron moved fast, placing himself between them and the boy.
"Run," Aron told him.
The boy hesitated.
Then fled.
The hunters struggled, shouting.
Aron looked down at them.
"I won't kill you," he said. "But you'll remember this place."
He pressed his palm to the earth.
Life drained—not from them—but from the ground itself. The soil blackened, brittle. The roots released their
hold.
The hunters scrambled back, pale.
"You're—"
"Leave."
They did.
The hunger recoiled, displeased.
Miles away, in a chamber carved of pale stone, a man read a report.
Captain Vaelor Kain traced the inked lines slowly.
"Anchoring technique," he murmured. "Partial devour. Civilian mercy."
He smiled faintly.
"So he's trying to be good."
Vaelor rose, fastening his cloak.
"Prepare the long pursuit," he ordered. "I want him tired, uncertain, and alone."
Aron collapsed against a tree as night fell.
The boy had escaped.
The land was scarred.
The hunger was silent.
That silence frightened him more than its voice.
He stared up at unfamiliar stars.
This land had been abandoned because it could not be controlled.
And now… neither could he.
ARC STATUS
New Region: Failed Lands
Primary Antagonist Identified
Conflict Mode: Pursuit