He didn't know how long he'd been walking.
Time was strange in this part of Valoria. The sun rarely moved. The sky changed colors without reason. Some days felt like minutes. Some minutes stretched into days. But none of that mattered anymore.
Braydon had stopped counting time.
He counted danger.
He counted kills.
He counted distance from the last time he saw his friends.
⸻
After the split, he wandered alone — angry, stubborn, and out for blood. He fought too soon, too wild. Nearly died more than once. And then… the shadows started watching him.
That's when Riven found him.
⸻
Riven didn't offer safety. He offered purpose.
"You're reckless," he had said. "But raw power can be refined. If you want to be more than a survivor, I can teach you."
Braydon didn't trust him. Not fully. But he saw something in Riven's eyes that was real — control. Precision. Power used with intent, not rage.
And so he learned.
⸻
They trained in silence.
Braydon discovered he could manipulate the gravity around his blade — make it light as air or heavy as stone. He learned to hold enemies in place mid-air, collapse space between him and a target, even create crushing pressure waves with a single step.
But the deeper they went, the more Braydon felt it…
Something was watching them.
Not Riven.
Not a monster.
The Veiled.
⸻
Braydon knew when it was time to disappear.
So he slipped away one night, through the mist, katana at his back, and vanished into the deadlands.
No plan.
Just instinct.
⸻
That was two days ago — or two weeks. He wasn't sure anymore.
But when the sky cracked red and the world trembled, he knew where he had to go.
He didn't need a journal or a sign.
He just felt it.
They're all together now.
They're in danger.
And something's coming for them.
⸻
He followed the monster's trail — the same one they'd fled from all those chapters ago.
The Hollowfang was hunting again.
Only this time, Braydon wasn't running.
He was ready.