The Hollow Convergence lay behind them, a fractured echo of the chaos it once held. The shattered gateway shimmered faintly, like a wound trying to seal itself, but something unnatural lingered in the air. Aeron stood at its edge, the shifting energies that once roared through the void now reduced to little more than ghostly threads drifting in the wind.
He clutched his side, where a shallow but searing cut reminded him of how close the convergence had come to breaking him. The newly awakened energy within him — a volatile blend of Nyxus' influence and the convergence's chaotic aura — buzzed restlessly beneath his skin.
Beside him, Kael — the warrior once known only by whispers — remained silent. His dark eyes were fixed on the spot where the final echo had disappeared, his grip tightening on his cracked weapon. "That was no ordinary dimensional breach," he muttered finally. "Someone wanted you in there. To test something."
Aeron didn't respond immediately. His mind was still reeling from the visions — fragments of Nyxus whispering through the shadows, the distorted future where cities burned beneath crimson skies. And most of all, the voice of the Convergence Guardian before it fell: "You are not ready."
But ready or not, Aeron knew one thing — the convergence had marked him, altered him, and the dungeon that held the next tier of his sister's cure was drawing nearer.
"We need to move," he finally said, breaking the silence. "The longer we linger, the more attention we attract."
Kael gave a slight nod, though his gaze lingered on Aeron a second longer than necessary. "You're changing," he said bluntly. "Whatever you absorbed in there... it's alive."
"I know," Aeron replied, and that was all he could afford to say.
They descended the ridge, the ruined horizon stretching out before them — ash-stained forests, half-buried ruins, and a shifting sky that still trembled with the convergence's death throes. The path ahead wasn't clear, but Aeron's instincts pointed southeast toward a sealed dungeon Nyxus had once cryptically referred to as The Maw of Echoes.
It was one of the highest-tier dungeons mapped but never cleared. Guild operatives had deemed it too unstable, and rumors claimed even high-ranking hunters had gone mad within its walls. To Aeron, that meant one thing — something valuable lay hidden in its depths, perhaps even another shard of the cure.
But he wasn't the only one moving.
Far behind, across ridges and scorched plains, a figure stood on a high plateau — cloaked in black, silent, and still.
Vex.
He knelt beside a faint energy trail — the lingering aura left behind by Aeron's unstable burst. His artificial system buzzed in his ear, feeding him readings.
> Target: Aeron.
Status: Evolving.
Directive: Observe. Engage if vulnerable.
Risk Level: Increasing.
Vex closed his eyes for a brief second, fingers brushing the hilt of his curved blade. "He's still ahead," he muttered. "But he's slipping further from the balance. If he becomes like Nyxus…"
His voice trailed off. Not even his masters had a clear answer on what Aeron would become — savior, weapon, or something else.
---
Elsewhere, in the deep heart of a forgotten guild sanctum, a shadowed figure reviewed a report projected in shimmering light.
"Subject survived Hollow Convergence," the report droned. "Energy analysis suggests partial resonance with Nyxian echoes. Artifact fusion: incomplete. Directive suggestion: monitor or retrieve. Priority: High."
The figure tapped a gloved finger on the console, lips curving in thought.
"Time to bring in the Watcher," they murmured.
A door opened behind them. A woman stepped in, draped in gray, with sharp eyes that had seen through more than just lies. Her presence quieted even the humming lights.
"You summoned me," she said.
"Yes," the shadow replied. "He's beginning to awaken. And I think it's time we reminded him... not all shadows belong to him."
---
Back on the edge of the wastelands, Aeron paused as a gust of wind tore through the trees. The sky above flickered — not natural, not yet. Kael stopped beside him, sensing it too.
"Another dungeon?" Kael asked.
Aeron shook his head. "Something older. Someone's watching us."
He didn't know yet that the game had shifted.
But the pieces were moving.
And the shadows — once his to command — now whispered with voices not his own.
---
The descent into the ash-veiled basin was quiet, the crunch of broken ground beneath their boots the only sound. Aeron could feel the residual pull of the Hollow Convergence behind them like a frayed tether, a connection not entirely severed. Whatever had awakened in him there — the power, the voice — it was still echoing, low and dangerous.
Kael walked ahead, his profile unreadable in the gloom. Despite the calm, Aeron could sense tension riding the edge of his stance. It wasn't just the convergence that had left its mark.
"You said someone wanted me in there," Aeron said finally. "Do you think they were watching from the other side?"
Kael didn't stop walking, but his voice was firm. "No. They were watching from this side."
Aeron's eyes narrowed. "You mean?"
"The Guild. Or what's left of its inner circle," Kael said. "They've always feared what the convergence could reveal. They weren't expecting you to survive. And now that you have, you've become a problem."
Aeron felt the shift in his own breathing, a slow burn building behind his ribs. "Let them come."
Kael halted suddenly, raising his hand. Aeron mirrored him, instincts kicking in as his senses stretched outward. Something ahead — faint, irregular — the shuffle of feet, not monster but human, maybe.
They crouched low behind a broken piece of rusted machinery half-buried in the soil. Below them, a trio of hunters in silver-slashed armor moved cautiously through the clearing. Their tabards bore the insignia of the guild's intelligence corps — elite trackers, often sent to retrieve rogue agents... or eliminate them.
"They're hunting us," Aeron said under his breath.
Kael gave a slow nod. "Or making sure the convergence didn't spit out anything it shouldn't have."
Aeron could feel the new energy within him stir. It wanted release. To test its limits.
But Kael placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Not yet. Let them pass."
Aeron gritted his teeth and stayed low as the hunters moved beyond sight, though the flicker of something primal had already tasted their presence. It was like an itch under his skin — the urge to absorb, to unravel.
When they moved again, Aeron turned to Kael. "I need to learn how to control it. Whatever I pulled from the convergence."
"You will," Kael said. "But not here."
"Then where?"
Kael's answer came with a grim smile. "The Maw of Echoes."
Aeron paused. He had heard the name before — in whispered reports and abandoned guild logs. It was a sealed dungeon buried deep within a dead city, one no team had ever returned from.
"What's in there?" he asked.
Kael's expression hardened. "Answers. And maybe the piece of your sister's cure the Guild has hidden away."
They moved again, shadows flickering around them as the day began to die. Behind them, faint trails of mist swirled in the footprints they left behind — residual energy from Aeron's unstable aura bleeding into the world. It left a mark. It always would now.
---
Far above, from the ridge Vex had stood on hours earlier, another figure watched through a visor. Not Vex — someone newer. Younger. A scout, part of a different network. They whispered into their comms.
"Confirmed. Aeron's alive. Kael is with him. Convergence exited. Energy trace suggests fusion — incomplete but active. Orders?"
Static. Then a voice.
"Keep your distance. Do not engage. We want him whole… until the Maw."
Then silence.
The scout turned away, vanishing into the gloom.
---
Nightfall settled over the fractured landscape like a shroud of velvet ash. The wind carried the whispers of the Hollow Convergence, trailing after Aeron and Kael as they moved with calculated urgency. Despite the darkness, neither stumbled — as if the land remembered them now, especially Aeron. The power simmering within him had left an imprint, not just on his aura but on the world itself.
They reached a derelict outpost nestled between broken canyon walls, its roof half-collapsed and walls scorched from long-forgotten skirmishes. Kael motioned for silence, then pushed open the warped metal door. The interior was thick with dust and forgotten memories. Shelves had toppled, datapads lay cracked on the floor, and a single cracked screen flickered faintly, showing looping static.
Aeron stepped inside, closing the door behind them.
"This place used to be a listening post," Kael explained. "Before the Guild sealed it. I kept it off the network. We can rest here. For now."
Aeron dropped his satchel and sat against the wall, his body aching more from the aura fluctuations than any real injury. The new skill or curse he'd absorbed from the Hollow Convergence had settled deep into his bones, restless.
Kael lit a small arc-lantern, casting the space in low golden light. "Tell me what you felt… when it awakened."
Aeron hesitated, then spoke slowly. "It wasn't just a skill. It felt... sentient. Like something looked at me through the convergence and recognized me. Not as prey. As one of its own."
Kael didn't look surprised. "That voice — the one you heard — it's the echo of a forsaken entity. One of the warbound titans, sealed away after the Collapse. They were the origin of the first Hunters."
"Then why would it reach out to me?"
"Because you're unshackled," Kael said simply. "You don't belong to the Guild anymore. And it sees that as freedom."
Aeron stared into the lantern flame, remembering the warped vision he'd seen in the convergence — the screaming, the light, the chains. "It said my name. And then… it offered something."
"Did you accept it?"
"I didn't have time to say no."
Kael looked away, jaw tight. "Then it lives inside you now. Not fully awakened, but watching. Waiting."
A silence stretched between them. Then Aeron asked the question that had been clawing at him since they left the convergence.
"Kael… was that the Guild's plan all along? To send me there, to see if I would bond with it?"
Kael sighed and pulled out a data core, sliding it toward Aeron. "You weren't the first, Aeron. The Guild's tried to force this bond before — with volunteers, prisoners, even high-ranking hunters. They all died. Horribly. You were supposed to be the same."
Aeron's grip on the data core tightened. "Then why save me?"
"Because the Guild is rotting from the inside," Kael said, his voice low. "And you might be the only one strong enough or mad enough to rip it open."
Aeron sat back, the fire inside him turning to steel. "Then we go to the Maw."
Kael nodded, rising to his feet. "But not tonight. Your aura's unstable. You need to shape it."
Aeron looked at his hand. Faint lines of energy flickered along his skin — ghost-light veins that pulsed with quiet fury. "How?"
Kael's answer came sharp and sudden. "You fight."
He tossed a small device onto the floor. It sparked, and a projection flared to life — an arena simulator.
"Now?" Aeron asked, eyes narrowing.
Kael didn't smile. "Now."
---
The simulator world shimmered around him — a jagged black field, ringed by fire and shadows. Aeron stepped forward, breath steady. Then a beast emerged: not a real one, but something pulled from his memories — the mutated horror that had nearly killed him in the first dungeon.
It charged.
Aeron didn't dodge.
Instead, he let go.
His aura flared, not golden like before, but deeper — a violet-black storm twisting around his limbs. He moved with new weight, new speed. When the beast lunged, he met it midair, slamming it to the ground with a single strike.
Another emerged.
Then another.
And still he moved faster, sharper, more savage.
Each kill fed the storm inside him. He could feel it changing his reflexes, enhancing his sight, sharpening his perception of time and movement. His body wasn't just reacting — it was learning, evolving with each blow.
From outside the projection, Kael watched, arms crossed.
"His aura's adapting fast. Too fast," he muttered.
A warning pinged across the simulator's edge — a spike in aura intensity beyond safe thresholds.
Inside, Aeron's limbs trembled, not from fatigue but hunger. His aura craved more. The final beast fell, and still Aeron stood, breathing hard.
Then the projection faded.
He staggered slightly, catching himself against the wall. The flickering light from the lantern made his shadow stretch unnaturally long behind him. Kael stepped forward, handing him water.
"That thing inside you," Kael said. "It's not just a power. It's a path. And if you let it guide you… it will cost you."
Aeron drank deeply, wiped his mouth, and stared at Kael. "I already paid. Now I want my change."
---
Outside, the stars flickered faintly. In a distant tower, across the ravaged plains, the Guild's high council sat in silence. Reports from the convergence had arrived.
The voice of the Grand Inquisitor was calm. Cold.
"Activate the Black Branch. If Aeron seeks the Maw, then the Maw will become his tomb."
A low murmur of assent.
The hunt was far from over.
It had just begun.
---
Aeron sat alone at the edge of the ruined outpost, legs hanging over the ledge of a crumbling wall as he stared at the moonlit horizon. The simulation had left him wrung outmentally and physically but the power that now stirred within him refused to let him rest. His body was still; his aura, however, rippled like a tide beneath the surface of his skin, demanding purpose, direction, blood.
Kael had fallen into a light sleep deeper inside the shelter, trusting Aeron enough to finally close both eyes. But Aeron couldn't rest. Not yet.
He opened his palm.
Violet-black energy slithered between his fingers like smoke, humming with a pulse that didn't quite match his heartbeat. When he focused on it, images danced behind his eyes: warped shadows, decayed temples, a city buried beneath sand and memory.
And that voice—distant, ethereal—still whispered.
"The chain is broken. You need only walk."
He didn't understand the message fully, but its meaning clawed at the edge of his thoughts. This power wasn't just a boost to his strength or speed—it was calling to something deeper. Older. It was reshaping him.
His vision sharpened suddenly. From far in the distance, he spotted something cresting a ridge: a faint shimmer, like heat distortion.
Someone was coming.
Aeron rose silently and stepped inside.
Kael was already up, blade in hand. "You felt it too?"
Aeron nodded. "Not Guild. At least, not pure."
Kael moved to the corner of the room, activating a short-range scan pulse. The image appeared almost immediately: three signatures approaching—human, but masked by dampened auras. Elite trackers.
"They're trying to flank," Kael said grimly.
"Let them," Aeron replied, his voice calm. "We need to test what this power really does."
---
The first attacker arrived silently—cloaked, fast, with a blade laced in disruptor venom. Aeron let him come close before pivoting, catching the strike with his forearm. Sparks flew as the blade met reinforced bone—Aeron's muscle density had shifted during the aura transformation. He twisted the weapon away and landed a knee into the man's gut, sending him flying through the broken wall.
Kael caught the second, his blades a blur. Unlike Aeron, Kael fought with surgical precision, leaving no room for error. He drove his opponent into the ground in three fluid moves, then turned just in time to avoid a bolt of compressed energy.
The third attacker hovered above, suspended by a gravity rig, preparing a second shot.
Aeron raised his hand.
The aura surged.
For a brief moment, everything froze. The air warped, light dimmed, and the shot never came. The gravity rig crackled, then imploded with a shriek of twisting metal as Aeron's aura bent the flow of energy around him. The assassin plummeted.
Aeron was already in motion. He reached the falling attacker, grabbed him midair, and slammed him into the earth with the weight of a god. Dust erupted in a halo around them.
Kael approached slowly, eyes narrowed. "That wasn't just power. You manipulated the field around him."
Aeron's fingers trembled slightly, not from strain but from the sheer pressure of the energy now writhing inside him.
"I didn't even know what I was doing," Aeron murmured. "It just… happened."
Kael nodded slowly. "Your aura is becoming reactive. Autonomous. That's rare and dangerous."
A low groan drew their attention. The first attacker was still alive, barely conscious.
Aeron stepped over him, voice low. "Who sent you?"
The man spat blood. "You… you shouldn't have left the Guild. They were going to make you a god…"
"I don't serve gods," Aeron said coldly. "Not anymore."
He placed a single finger on the man's chest. The aura flared just a pulse and the assassin slumped unconscious. Alive, but out.
Kael approached. "We should move. If these three found us, more will follow."
Aeron nodded, his eyes still on the stars. "We head for the Maw."
Kael tilted his head. "You're ready?"
"No," Aeron said quietly. "But the thing inside me is growing. If I don't find the truth soon—about this power, about the warbound titan—it'll consume me."
Kael placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then we go together. But you need to remember something, Aeron: the more you absorb, the more you change. This power isn't free."
"I don't need it to be," Aeron replied, his voice resolute. "I just need it to be mine."
---
Elsewhere, deep within the Guild's restricted zone, the Grand Inquisitor reviewed the failed mission.
"They survived."
His aide hesitated. "Yes, Grand Inquisitor. All three of our operatives are unconscious, but alive."
"Pity," the Inquisitor muttered. "I had hoped to test the limits of his restraint."
Another figure stepped into the shadows—face hidden, aura silent. A true assassin.
"Shall I go, then?" the figure asked.
The Inquisitor smiled. "No. Not yet. Let him reach the Maw. If he survives what's waiting there…"
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"…then we will truly have something to fear."
---