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Chapter 74 - The Forgotten Land

Morning crept through the forest like a ghost, pale light threading between the ruins of trees Nexus's battle had left behind. The air still carried the metallic scent of blood and ozone. Rayon stood at the edge of the cliffs, coat swaying in the wind, eyes fixed on the endless sea below.

Erethon's voice broke the silence, soft and taunting.

"You're really leaving her behind? She'll hate that."

Rayon smirked, tightening the glove on his right hand. "Let her. I've got things to do. She'll find me when she's bored again."

He stepped forward—and vanished. Strings erupted beneath his feet, shooting into the air like webbed anchors, latching onto nothing and everything at once. With a twist of his wrist, they pulled, and his body launched out over the ocean, skimming above the waves like a shadow.

The sea stretched wide and endless, the color of deep ink. Somewhere ahead, the fog thickened, and shapes began to form—an island, vast and jagged, its cliffs rising like black teeth from the water.

"Another forsaken land," Rayon muttered, his tone both curious and amused. "Perfect."

When he landed, the ground cracked under his boots. The air was heavy here—thick with mana and decay. The trees looked petrified, their branches twisted into skeletal shapes. Bones littered the soil. And from the shadows, something moved.

Dozens of them.

The first emerged—a beast the size of a lion, its flesh half-rotten and half-rebuilt with black, pulsating veins. Its eyes burned crimson. Then more followed. They crawled, slithered, and crept from the ruins, each one stitched together like broken dolls of the wild.

Rayon exhaled through his nose. "Tch. So this is the welcoming party."

He raised his hand. The Hollow Strings sang into the air, shimmering black with faint silver veins running through them. They stretched and curved, forming a web between him and the horde.

Erethon's laugh echoed in his head. "Don't hold back, Rayon. These things aren't alive. They're echoes. Leftovers from something ancient."

"Then they won't mind dying again."

The first beast lunged. Rayon sidestepped, a blur of motion, his hand slicing through the air. Strings cut through the monster's neck like paper. Blood hissed against the dirt. He didn't pause—he spun, weaving a web in midair, pulling two more beasts apart in a cross-slash that left their bodies twitching on the ground.

But they kept coming.

The island shook as a much larger presence stirred from within the mist. Something old, something that had been asleep for centuries.

A roar broke the sky—a sound so deep it felt like the world itself cracked.

The fog parted.

A creature stepped into view—towering, with six arms and a crown of bone spikes curling backward from its skull. Its torso shimmered with the faint glow of corrupted runes. And on its chest, sewn into its flesh, was something that made Rayon pause—a strand of silver thread.

He stared. "Wait… that's…"

Erethon's voice dropped low, all amusement gone. "That's not just a beast. That's a Forsaken Warden. They were built from the same string essence as you—failed vessels. If that thing kills you, it'll eat your core."

Rayon rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. "Then I'll just have to make sure it doesn't."

The Warden charged, each step shaking the ground. Rayon darted forward, strings erupting from his hands, coiling around the monster's arms and neck. The tension snapped between them like thunder. For a moment, it was strength against strength—the raw, monstrous weight of the Warden against the precision and madness of Rayon.

The clash sent shockwaves through the clearing, trees uprooting, dust and bone fragments swirling through the air.

Rayon grinned through the chaos, blood trickling from his lip. "Let's dance, monster."

He lunged again, barehanded this time, his fists striking with brutal rhythm. Strings weaved into his blows, amplifying the impact. The Warden countered with clawed swipes, one of which tore through Rayon's side. Blood sprayed, but Rayon didn't slow—he grabbed his own wound, stitched it mid-motion, and swung upward, his heel colliding with the creature's jaw.

The world felt alive again—every sound, every tremor, every pulse of pain reminding him what it meant to be alive.

Erethon laughed, deep and dark. "This island might kill you. Or it might make you unstoppable. I can't tell which yet."

Rayon's grin widened. "Then we'll find out together."

The storm raged, strings slicing, beasts screaming, and amid it all, Rayon stood—bloodied, fearless, and alive in a world that refused to die.

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