The stone door sealed shut behind him.
Arthur cast a final glance at the slumbering sanctuary. The glow was long gone—only a faint warmth lingered in the cracks of the ancient walls. Without pause, he turned and pressed on. The mountain path had crumbled into slick, overgrown ruins. Vines coiled over broken stone, and every step came with resistance.
He walked for a long time. Only when he stepped out onto the edge of the forest and into the sun-streaked wilderness did light fall on his shoulders once more.
Arthur looked down at his arm.
The wounds had healed. The old scars faded, almost invisible. Even the swelling around his ankle had vanished. His breath came easy—lighter than before the chase began.
"The light… it healed me."
He said it softly, but no answer came.
Still, he knew. That power was inside him now. Sleeping. Waiting.
He kept moving.
Somewhere deeper in the woods, a bird called once, twice. The wind carried a damp heaviness, and the silence between the trees felt wrong—too still.
Arthur lifted his foot to step forward—
The grass rustled.
A gray-maned wolf leapt from the underbrush, snarling straight for his face. Arthur recoiled instinctively, hand flying to his hidden crossbow—but another wolf lunged in from the side before he could reach it.
He twisted away, tumbled, hit the dirt. Another body crashed into him from behind, sending him sprawling again.
"Not normal wolves…"
They moved in unison. No hunger, no hesitation. They weren't hunting for food. They were hunting like weapons.
Arthur grabbed a dead branch and shoved it between snapping jaws. The wolf's teeth crunched down, splintering the wood inches from his throat. He kicked it back and scrambled up—only to find more eyes gleaming in the brush.
The pack circled in. No way out.
He raised the crossbow, loosed a shot. It struck one in the shoulder—but the beast barely staggered. With a growl, it charged again.
Arthur backed up.
His boot caught on a root—he stumbled and slammed into a tree. Pain ripped through his shoulder.
The world spun.
Inside his chest, the fragment stirred.
"You want to live?"
The voice came again—familiar now, but no longer gentle. It burned like fire.
"You want to fight back?"
Arthur slid down the tree, legs crumpling under him. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts. Across the clearing, the wolves advanced.
His gaze locked with theirs.
"Fine…"
He bit into his fingertip until blood welled up, then slapped his hand over the golden scar glowing faintly beneath his shirt.
"Then give me power."
Light detonated.
A shockwave exploded outward from his chest, flattening grass and tearing through air. The wolves were flung backwards, limbs flailing, branches shattering around them as they slammed into trees with painful yelps.
Arthur dropped to his knees.
His fingers dug into the earth, breath catching as golden cracks flickered along his skin—flowing down his arms, legs, spine. His eyes shimmered gold for a heartbeat.
None of the beasts dared to rise.
They whimpered. Backed away. Then bolted into the forest, vanishing like ghosts.
The clearing fell quiet.
Starlike dust hung in the air. Patterns rippled across the ground in golden filigree—signs of purification. Even the weeds had withered away, revealing pale-gold soil underneath, like divine footsteps pressed into the earth.
Arthur knelt, trembling, lungs heaving.
"This… was light?"
He lifted his hand.
The wound was gone. Nothing left but a faint shimmer beneath the skin, already fading.
Slowly, he stood.
The forest beyond was silent again. But it wasn't the same silence as before.
Something ancient—something powerful—had heard him now.
And it had answered.
The forest wind stilled.
Arthur stood on the patch of land purified by light, golden motes still drifting gently in the air. No birds sang. No branches rustled. Even the leaves hung limp, as if the whole forest was holding its breath.
"They've sensed the pulse," said the voice within him, calm but laced with urgency. "They're coming."
"Who?" Arthur asked aloud.
"The Decayed. The hunting system is now active."
Arthur's brow tightened. He turned toward the far edge of the forest. Beyond the distant canopy, a flicker of black moved between the trees. He didn't even have time to catch its form before it vanished.
He stepped back instinctively, pressed against the trunk of a thick tree, reaching for his crossbow—but he knew, deep down, whatever that thing was, bolts wouldn't stop it.
"You're saying those things—those half-gods, half-specters—they can track me?"
"You've activated a shard of the Radiant Ring. They sensed the shift in authority."
"What do I do now?"
"Run. Now."
As the word left the voice, a distant boom rocked the forest. Birds exploded into the sky. The ground shuddered faintly.
Arthur bolted, veering into a narrow trail. He didn't know the route—only that he needed to avoid open terrain.
Vines tore at his legs. Branches whipped past his face. He leapt over a dry creek, ducked under fallen trees, breath catching with every step.
"Don't run in a straight line," the voice urged. "Cut toward the northern slope. There's an ancient seal zone there. They can't approach it."
"And how do you know that?"
"I'm a shard. I belong to the Ring."
"You still haven't told me what you really are."
Silence pulsed for a beat. "I am Fragment 137. You are my current vessel."
"So can you unleash another one of those blasts you did earlier?"
"At the cost of tearing every muscle from your bones. Unless you wish to self-destruct—"
Arthur snorted. "Then forget it. I'll run."
He dove down a steep incline, rolled twice, smacked his knee on a rock—and just as he staggered upright, a black spear whistled past his ear, impaling the exact spot where he'd landed.
He spun. In the misty treeline, a tall figure emerged. Clad in dull gold and ash-gray armor, face obscured by a half-mask of black metal. In his hand—another dark spear, poised.
"Target: unidentified irregular vessel."
"Order level: Class One Elimination."
Arthur straightened, breathing hard.
"Could've just said hello," he muttered.
The figure didn't answer. He hurled the second spear.
Arthur threw himself flat, rolled, loosed a bolt mid-dive. It struck the hunter's chestplate with a metallic crack and ricocheted off.
Scrambling onto a slanted tree trunk, Arthur vaulted down its length and sprinted into the deep fog cloaking the slope.
"They can't enter the sealed zone," the voice said. "Thirty meters. You're almost there."
"I'll take your word for it."
He plunged into the thick haze just as another spear tore through a tree behind him, splinters flying.
A heartbeat later, he tumbled into a sunken hollow and hit the dirt hard.
The hunter approached the mist's edge... and stopped.
He stood still for several seconds, watching, then turned away.
"Target has entered forbidden zone. Anomaly recorded."
"Transmitting data. Awaiting further instruction."
With that, the figure vanished into the trees.
In the hollow, Arthur lay back against the earth, gasping for breath.
"All right," he said between gulps of air. "Now I believe you're not trying to get me killed."
"I can't afford to. If you die, I lose my vessel."
Arthur gave a bitter smile and looked up through the fog toward the sky.
"In that case," he said, "let's work together."