The wind in Torn didn't howl. It hissed.
Joe stood on a ridge of black stone, staring at a landscape that looked like it had been carved by madness. The ground cracked in jagged lines, as if something underneath had clawed its way out long ago. Trees grew upside-down. Rivers flowed uphill. The sky stayed a dull violet even as the sun rose—if that dim, twitching orb in the clouds could be called a sun at all.
He'd been walking for what felt like hours.
His body ached. His shoulder was still burnt from the last fight, and no matter how many status windows he looked at, they all said the same thing:
[Status: Soul Burn – Minor]
Healing suppressed. Use of magic accelerates decay.
He hadn't even figured out how to heal yet.
"Some game," Joe muttered. "Could've at least given me a damn tutorial."
Ahead, the land dipped into a shallow valley. Smoke drifted from somewhere below. Civilization?
Hope flared in his chest—then flickered when he saw what the smoke came from.
A wagon. Broken. Burning.
Bodies lay scattered around it—twisted, snapped like twigs. Blood pooled in spirals, as if gravity here had no direction.
Joe crouched low, approaching slowly. The air reeked of ozone and rot.
And then he heard the chime.
[System Alert: Aberration Detected]
Caution: Phenomenon Class "Mimic Bloom" Nearby.
"What the hell is a—"
A scream cut him off.
He turned.
One of the bodies moved—but not like a living person. Its head split open in four directions, revealing a ring of flower-petal tendrils lined with eyeballs. Spines sprouted from its back like insect legs. Its mouth stretched, dislocating like a snake's, and it began to hum.
A gentle lullaby.
Mimic Bloom: Aberrant Flora-Class Predator
Status: Feeding Mode
Weakness: Fire or Disruption of Song
Joe's stomach turned.
He aimed his hand. Lightning cracked, but fizzled—his magic shorted out mid-cast.
[Warning: Mental Disruption Detected]
Mimic Bloom emits psychic interference.
His knees buckled. That song was inside his skull now—his mother's voice singing a lullaby she used to hum when he had nightmares.
He screamed and shoved a hand to his ear—blood poured out.
The thing crawled toward him, gently singing.
Joe reached for anything—found a shard of metal from the wagon wheel—stabbed his own arm.
Pain cleared the fog for just a second.
And in that second, his magic surged.
Lightning exploded from him in a wave, not a bolt—a dome of raw electricity that vaporized the mimic bloom with a wet, high-pitched hiss.
Joe collapsed again, twitching. Blood ran from his nose now too.
He was falling apart already.
But before the world went dark, something flickered in the air:
[Level Up – Level 3]
+1 CTRL
+2 MAG
New Skill: Discharge Field (Area)
Title Gained: "Storm-Eater" – Resists psychic interference from plant-based threats.