The night was heavy. The air still stank of charred flesh and rotting corpses, smoke drifting like shadows through the broken streets. Kairis tugged his hood up and walked back toward the safehouse. His mind was a storm, replaying the voice that had crawled into his bones.
Lucien Dreamveil. God of the Void. Apostle of the Void.
Even thinking the name felt unreal, like dragging his thoughts against glass. But he forced himself to shove it aside. Right now, nothing mattered more than Elyra and Aeren.
He slipped through the creaking door of the safehouse. Elyra was curled on the couch, her little frame hugging her knees, fast asleep despite the chaos outside. Aeren was on the floor beside her, his head leaning against her shoulder, mouth parted slightly, clutching a cracked toy soldier in his hand.
Kairis stopped at the doorway and stared at them. The world outside was turning into a graveyard, yet these two—his blood, his responsibility—still breathed. That was enough.
He moved quietly, pulling a blanket over them both. Elyra stirred but didn't wake.
"…You're safe," he whispered, his voice low, almost gentle. Then his face hardened, the weight of the God's command pressing down again. He touched Aeren's shoulder once, then stood and walked away.
The next morning, he set out. His boots splashed through shallow puddles of rainwater as he left the stronghold walls and made his way toward Old Harbor. The ruined docks stretched across the city's edge, once filled with trade and noise, now nothing but silence and black water.
But silence was never safe anymore.
He crouched on top of a rusted container, scanning the landscape. His eyes narrowed.
The harbor was crawling.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of shambling corpses dragged themselves across the docks. Their flesh sagged like wet paper, mouths opening and closing with animal hunger. Some had been dockworkers, others soldiers, others civilians. Now, all the same.
Kairis muttered under his breath, "…Zombies. Of course."
He slid his hand along the hilt of the Graviton Edge, its blade humming faintly with warped air.
"Guess you bastards don't rot quick enough."
He rose, cloak catching the wind. His eyes glimmered faintly with that violet hue as the system window flashed in his vision:
[Location: Old Harbor Ruins]
[Warning: Undead Activity Detected]
[Boss Presence Confirmed: ???]
Kairis smirked. "Figures."
The zombies below shuffled, their heads snapping toward him as if they felt his gaze. Their moans rose, guttural and wet, as they began to swarm toward the building he perched on.
Kairis stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders. The weight of fear didn't touch him. It hadn't in years. Instead, arrogance sparked in his eyes as he muttered, loud enough for only the dead to hear:
"You think I'm scared of a pile of meat? You'll find out quick—I don't run."
And then, he leapt.
His descent was clean, cloak snapping behind him as he landed in the middle of the horde. The Graviton Edge carved its first arc, space itself bending as the blade cleaved through three corpses in one stroke. Blood and ash sprayed, the bodies folding inward as though reality rejected them.
Zombies lunged. Kairis extended his left hand—Gyro-Telekinesis flared. Broken debris, rebar, and loose metal pipes ripped from the ground and shot forward, piercing skulls like arrows.
One tried to bite him—he twisted, boot slamming into its jaw with a crunch, sending it sprawling back into the horde.
The docks erupted into chaos. Flesh, teeth, and blood surrounded him, yet his movements were precise, controlled. Every strike of the Graviton Edge bent the air, every motion of his hand turned gravity itself into a weapon.
Still, as the tide pressed harder, he realized something chilling: the zombies weren't just moving mindlessly. They were funneling, herding, almost as if something larger… smarter… was directing them.
Kairis' smirk faded, his jaw tightening. "…So that's you, huh? Wraith of Endless Hunger."
Above the horde, the system flickered again:
[Quest Objective: Locate and Defeat the Wraith of Endless Hunger]
[Progress: 0%]
He exhaled, steady. His blood was pumping, adrenaline burning like fire, but his face was calm.
"Fine. You want me to play Apostle? Then send me your best corpse."
Far, far away in the void, Lucien Dreamveil leaned back on his throne of endless roots and stars. His smirk widened as he watched the young man carve through death itself.
Good, he thought. Arrogance tempered by resolve. The Ash bloodline has not disappointed me yet.
The multiverse shifted faintly as his presence rippled. The game had begun.