"Far down south lives a… madwoman…"
The words hung in the air like a curse, heavy and sharp, cutting through the camp's hum of crackling fires and distant groans. Liang Shun's voice, usually smooth and commanding, carried a hollow edge, as if speaking the truth drained something vital from him. The crystal-studded walls of the cave camp reflected the flickering lantern light, casting jagged shadows over the group, their faces a mix of shock and unease.
Xin's brow furrowed. "A madwoman?" he asked, disbelief tinging his voice, the word lodging in his throat like a shard of glass.
Shun nodded, his silver horns glinting faintly as he turned his gaze to the firelight. Deep shadows carved his ethereal features, stripping away the warmth that had defined him moments before.
"Yes. A tyrant. She calls herself the "Sovereign" of the Visitor's Ruins."
The name lit up a light his eyes widening with a sharp, visceral alarm that betrayed his usual bored like demeanor. His body tensed, a fragment of memory clawing its way to the surface—something old, slippery, tied to a life before this world.
Visitor's Ruins.
Not a random phrase anyone can come up with, but a precise one, steeped in meaning no one where would know.
How did they know that name?
His gaze flicked to Xin, searching for recognition, but Xin's face showed only confusion. Raven, standing a step behind, remained focused, his expression unreadable, though his hand rested lightly on his obsidian shard.
Belial's thoughts raced. "The visor told you that name?" he asked, his voice low, probing, barely masking his unease.
Shun caught the flicker of suspicion in Belial's eyes and tilted his head, a faint curiosity softening his grim demeanor. "I didn't come up with it myself. The visor named the Ruins. It's how this world speaks to us, isn't it?"
Belial's eyes closed in slight relief.
Right. The visor.
That augmented interface was their lifeline, feeding them scraps of knowledge—stages, ranks, threats. The system was weaving their paths, pulling strings they couldn't see, and Belial trusted it about as far as he could throw it. He kept his thoughts to himself, but the unease lingered, a cold knot in his chest.
Shun turned to Xin, his voice softening, though a bitter edge undercut his words. "She wasn't always like this, you know. At first, we were allies. Partners, even. We met under the Glassy Sky, that fractured dome of crystal where the ruins begin. Our goals were different—mine to build a haven, hers to understand this world's secrets—but we shared a drive to survive, to persevere. Together, we saved hundreds, led them through the ruins to safety, carved out a foothold in a place that wanted us dead."
He paused, his gaze drifting to the camp's wounded, their bandages stark against the dim light. "We thought we could change things. Find a way out. She was brilliant, Xin. Fierce. Her Regalia—a staff crowned with a black gem—could bend light, weave illusions so real you'd swear the ground beneath you had vanished. We relied on her to guide us through the ruins' traps, to keep the monsters at bay. For a while, it worked. We relocated survivors, built a base, held the line."
Xin listened, his fingers brushing the Dharma Wheel at his side, its faint hum grounding him. "What changed?" he asked, his voice quiet but steady.
Shun's eyes darkened, the memory seeming to burn through him. "Everything changed when she cleared her first stage. The visor called it the Trial of the Fallen—a crucible that tests your soul. She faced it alone, and when she emerged, her Regalia had awakened fully. It taught her to absorb Ether directly, to pull it from the air, the earth, even from others. She became… different. Stronger, yes, but colder. Obsessed. She believed the ruins held the key to escaping this world, that the Omega Hollow—a beast that guards the inner sanctum—was the gatekeeper to the next stage."
He shook his head, his silver hair catching the firelight. "We planned to face it together. I trusted her, Xin. We all did. Hundreds of us marched into the sanctum—scouts, fighters, survivors who believed in her vision. We thought we could win, that defeating the Prime would unlock something greater. But it was a massacre. The Hollow was unlike anything we'd faced—fast, relentless, its claws tearing through steel like cloth. It warped the air, twisted our senses. I saw friends cut down in seconds, their screams swallowed by the dark. By the end, only a handful of us survived. Me, her, and a few others, battered and broken."
Belial's eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "She didn't break, though, did she?"
Shun's gaze met his, heavy with regret. "No. She thrived. The trial changed her, but the massacre… it broke something deeper. She started taking Ether by force, stripping it from the wounded, the dying, even those who trusted her. She called it 'All for One'—a project, she said, to unify our strength, to feed her power enough to slay the Prime herself. But it was slaughter. She turned on the people we saved, trapped them within the ruins. Her Regalia's miasma—a fog of despair—kept them imprisoned, leeching their Ether to fuel her madness. She believed she was saving them, that their sacrifice would free us all."
Xin's breath hitched, a memory of his own first stage surfacing unbidden—illusions that warped time, pain that felt eternal, a cycle of torment that trapped him for what seemed like a year, only to learn it had been a week. The Ruins, the Sovereign's miasma—it echoed his trial too closely, a mirror of his own breaking point. "We can do that?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "Trap people like that?"
Shun nodded, his expression somber. "You must've gone through it to obtain your Regalia, right?"
Xin's fingers tightened on the Dharma Wheel, the weight of his trial settling over him like ash. "Yeah."
"It's part of its nature," Shun said. "A Regalia tests you, breaks you if it can. If you fail, you become its food. I fought her briefly, tried to stop her. I had my own Regalia then—a blade that could cut through illusions, hold back her miasma. But she was too strong. I escaped with a few survivors, led them here. I had to leave my Regalia behind—it's safeguarding the civilians at our base now, keeping them hidden from her reach."
The camp's sounds returned—soldiers' murmurs, the clink of metal—but the air felt heavier, charged with the specter of the Sovereign. Belial's mind churned, piecing together the stakes. A Regalia that could trap souls, a madwoman wielding it like a god—this wasn't just survival. It was a war against someone who could rewrite reality itself.
Before anyone could speak, the tent flaps burst open, and a soldier staggered through, blood staining his torn uniform. He collapsed to one knee, gasping, his face pale with sweat. "Commander Shun!" he choked out, his voice raw with urgency.
Shun knelt beside him, steadying his trembling frame. "What is it?"
"More survivors," the soldier panted, clutching his side. "A few miles south. A ruined village near the tree line. But the southern soldiers—they're under attack. Barely holding the line."
Shun's face hardened, his horns glinting as he stood. "We can't afford to lose more people."
Lira, tying a bandage on a wounded scout, shook her head. "I can't help. Too many wounded here. If I leave…"
"I'll go," a voice cut through, steady and resolute.
Toren stepped forward, his lean frame taut with determination. A scar ran down his left arm, a testament to battles survived. "Give me a squad, I'll bring them back." His eyes flicked to Belial. "Nero, will you come?"
Belial was silent until now gave a short nod, his expression guarded but his eyes sharp. "Yeah. Sure, I'll help for once."
"I'm going too," Raven said, stepping forward, his coat swaying. His voice was calm, but an edge of readiness gleamed beneath it.
Belial shook his head. "No, Raven. Stay here. Watch the wounded. We need someone with a head on their shoulders holding the line."
Raven's frown deepened, his grip tightening on his shard. "I can handle—"
"No," Belial said firmly. "If anything happens here while we're gone, we need someone we trust."
Raven hesitated, then stepped back, reluctance clear in his stance. "...Fine. But stay safe."
Belial's lips quirked into a smirk, cold and fleeting. "I always do."
Xin stepped closer, his voice soft but piercing. "Nero."
Belial turned, meeting his gaze.
"You better come back in one piece," Xin said, his eyes unyielding. He tapped the Dharma Wheel, a spark of ether flaring. "Because if you die out there… I'll drag your soul out of hell myself."
Belial chuckled, a dry sound. "We're already in hell."
Xin nodded, unwavering. "Then you better come back alive."
Shun clasped Belial's arm, his grip firm but not overpowering. "Good luck. If she's involved… you're not just saving survivors. You're stepping into her trap."
Belial's eyes gleamed with defiance. " If its a trap, Then we'll spring it."