The Northern Outskirts of Silurad were a different world altogether.
Broken stone roads gave way to jagged cliffs and patches of wild grass that seemed to sway unnaturally, as if attuned to some invisible pulse.
On all of this scarred and bizarre land, grew misshapen buildings made of scraped metals and rotten woods. In them, one could see human faces, but almost devoid of light, severely afflicted by the torments of poverty, hunger, disease and general neglect.
Ashen's boots struck the uneven ground of the malformed street where he stood, with a hollow echo.
The air tasted faintly metallic, mixed with the scent of ozone... and misery. A subtle hum of residual magic threaded through the atmosphere. Even Nyra's usual calm light flickered slightly in reaction.
[Host, sensors detect unusual portal fluctuations ahead. Terrain instability is significant. Probability of ambush: moderate to high.] she said, hovering near his shoulder, her voice threaded with both analytic precision and concern.
Ashen grunted.
"I expected nothing less." he muttered.
The Gate had taught him one lesson above all: danger was always closer than it appeared… And it didn't care about innocent lives.
[Optimism is acceptable. Prudence is highly recommended.] Nyra added, her tone lightening with a trace of genuine worry.
Ashen passed through the slums, continued for a little while and found himself in a desolate and deserted area that even the inhabitants of the outskirts seemed to avoid like the plague.
The jagged cliffs and scattered ruins before him were silent at first, but the air itself seemed to shift, shimmering faintly.
Ashen's hand brushed the hilt of his resonance dagger. His pistol, keyed to detect anomalies in the ambient energy, hummed softly. He let the pulse of Kovatar magic circulate within him, faint but insistent — Like the heartbeat of a predator sensing prey.
[Host, multiple energy signatures detected. Translucent forms approaching at high speed.] Nyra warned sharply.
Ashen's eyes narrowed.
"I see them."
Hoppers emerged from the ruins, some others from a small Rift that was closing, their translucent forms jerking unnaturally as they advanced.
As always, their limbs were elongated and snapped at odd angles. Their pale, shimmering bodies flickered against the wind, and the faint glow of their internal energy pulsed in rhythm with their erratic movements.
[Brace yourself, Ashen. They're not faster than the first group, in the Market district… and they're less numerous.] Nyra said, a twinge of relief threading her high-pitched voice.
Ashen adjusted his grip on the dagger and levelled his pistol.
"Yeah, I see that. But, I wasn't planning on taking a nap, either." He muttered, stepping forward.
The first Hopper lunged, jerking sideways with an unpredictable arc. Ashen sidestepped, pivoting smoothly, and drove the dagger into its semi-solid chest.
Sparks of energy flared along the blade as he twisted, tearing through the creature before it could react.
[Direct hit confirmed. Remaining targets: twelve, spread across three axes. Suggested tactical approach: prioritise closest threats.]
Nyra's voice carried both calculation and an almost human exasperation, as if she were cheering him on while scolding him for his coming recklessness.
'I'm not reckless.'
Ashen didn't wait. He fired the resonance pistol in a sweeping arc, the bullets glinting with a faint magical trace, disrupting the Hoppers' energy coherence. Two more fell in jerky, unnatural collapses.
His dagger flashed again, intercepting another that tried to circle behind him. He moved with fluid precision, minor Kovatar magic boosting his reflexes just enough to stay ahead of the Hoppers' erratic motions.
A water ball suddenly erupted, coming from the cliffside, blowing the head of another Hopper.
Lathea appeared, running towards Ashen and Nyra. Her water magic surged in coils around falling rocks and rubble, shielding them from debris as she launched arcs of liquid to intercept Hoppers attempting to flank Ashen.
Her movements were swift and confident, the streams of water slicing through enemy lines with elegance.
[Mage Lathea detected: tactical coordination advised. Probability of synergistic strike success: high.] Nyra noted, her tone softened.
Ashen sent a curt glance toward Lathea.
"Thank you, milady, but I'm not asking for help. And… weren't you supposed to have a test ?" he asked, a clear surprise surging in his tone.
[Sarcasm detected. She's still saving lives, Ashen.] Nyra quipped, almost amused.
Two more Hoppers lunged, their translucent forms jerking violently. Ashen spun, firing his pistol twice, the shots striking with precision. He leapt over a jagged boulder, dagger slicing another in midair.
The sound of his strikes — metal on semi-solid flesh — was hollow but sort of satisfying. Each movement was a blend of calculated risk and instinctual timing, a dance of survival.
"Yeah, I thought too. But the incident in the Market District rescheduled everything, apparently…"
She twisted, dealt with a Hopper lunging at her, and continued:
"…So, I thought I could lend you a hand here!" she said, grunting under the effort.
Ashen didn't have enough time to reply, as a beast almost got him from behind. He rolled forward, came back to his feet and struck with his blade.
[Slightly reckless, Ashen. Heart rate elevated beyond the recommended threshold.] Nyra warned.
"Noted." He said, already vaulting onto higher ground.
His mind worked faster than his words. Suddenly, the energy readings Nyra provided showed a faint pulsing glow in the distance.
The artefact.
That was what had drawn the Hoppers here.
…He needed to secure it.
The two final Hoppers screeched, their translucent body twisting violently as they charged from the right flank. Ashen caught one with a quick, fluid motion — dagger thrust, pistol shot to disrupt its energy, dagger slash to finish.
The creature collapsed, leaving a faint shimmer in the air, slowly fading.
The other got taken down by a blade of water.
[All immediate threats neutralised. Artefact signature confirmed at a distance: 300 metres.] Nyra said, voice both relieved and tinged with excitement.
Ashen allowed himself a brief pause, scanning the area. The part of the outskirts where they stood was eerily quiet. The distant hum of residual magic was still mingling with the wind. He moved cautiously, pistol and dagger ready.
***
As they approached the entrance of the ruins, the artefact came into view.
It was a jagged golden crystal embedded in a broken stone pedestal. It pulsed faintly, casting refracted light across the uneven terrain. Ashen knelt, studying it. The air around it crackled with unstable energy, a faint magnetic pull tugging at him.
[Wanderer Host, this is dangerous. The artefact energy is unpredictable. Physical and psychic feedback is highly likely.] Sora warned, hovering closer, his glow flaring softly.
"I can handle it." Ashen muttered.
His fingers brushed the surface of the crystal. It was colder than expected, almost liquid to the touch, yet weightless. The glow brightened as if reacting to his presence.
[Extremely volatile. Recommend containment field or remote retrieval— Please don't do anything reckless, Ash.] Nyra said, voice urgent… panicked, even.
Ashen ignored her advice.
He wanted to feel it firsthand. The pulsing of energy beneath his fingertips was hypnotic, almost alive, and he sensed something's attention lingering in the ether, drawn by the artefact's pulse.
[ Mage Lathea's signature nearby. Observation only, not interference… If anything goes bad, I advise calling for help.] Nyra added, almost protectively.
Sora pulsed to mark his agreement.
When Ashen fully grasped the artefact in his hand, something happened.
Sound vanished first. Then sight.
All that remained was vibration — a slow, living hum that crawled beneath his skin and tugged at something deep inside him. He gasped and stumbled, but when he opened his eyes again, the ruins around him were gone.
He stood within an expanse of golden mist, endless and quiet.
The air shimmered with threads of light, and above him floated hundreds — perhaps thousands — of crystals, suspended like stars. Each pulsed with its own rhythm, faint yet deliberate, as if breathing. The sound was almost music — no, it was music. Each pulse sent a note rippling through the mist, and together they wove a melody too intricate to be of mortal origin.
Ashen turned slowly, the soft resonance washing over him.
The melody wasn't coming from the crystals themselves. It was coming through them. Each beat felt like a memory echoing across centuries — birth, loss, longing, and a strange, aching beauty that made his chest tighten.
He stepped closer to the nearest crystal.
Inside its depths flickered fleeting images — cities of glass suspended in sky, vast islands floating above oceans of clouds, and people of light working beside shimmering machines.
Their faces were blurred, but their motions spoke of purpose… and desperation. The more he looked, the more the melody changed.
It wasn't a song of triumph.
…It was a lament.
He felt it then — a faint warmth against his chest. The shard he carried, the small golden fragment from the Hopper of the Market District, was pulsing in answer. The hum of this place was resonating with it. He held it in his palm, and the two frequencies aligned for a brief, breathless moment.
The sound around him shifted. It was no longer a harmony of many voices — it was speech.
"We sang to bind the worlds…"
The words weren't heard so much as felt, vibrating through his bones.
"Each song, a gate. Each tone, a bridge."
A pause — sorrow trembling beneath the resonance.
"But when the last note fell silent, so too did we."
The crystals around him dimmed one by one, fading like candles snuffed out by wind.
Then, amid the silence, a single voice remained — fragile, uncertain, young.
It echoed faintly through the void:
"Where is my pair? Where is the other half of my song?"
Ashen's breath caught.
The voice was… small. A child's. But behind its innocence lay grief so ancient it felt endless.
"Who are you?" He tried to call out, but the words came out soundless, swallowed by the golden mist.
The crystal nearest him pulsed in reply, trembling violently now, as though struggling to remain whole.
"We were two. Now I am one. And the song is broken." the voice whispered.
A sharp pain seared through his chest — a brief, electric surge that felt like it was his heart skipping a beat. The hum became discordant, chaotic, collapsing into shards of dissonant tones.
The world around him fractured — cracks of light slicing through the mist — and then everything imploded.
The next thing he knew, he was on his knees, back in the ruins, gasping for breath.
The crystal before him flickered weakly, its golden light now dim and fragile — almost like a heartbeat fading in and out.
And though the song was gone, Ashen could still hear its final note ringing in his mind, faint and haunting:
'Find the other half.'
He stared at it, chest heaving. Somewhere, out there, another crystal might still be singing — waiting to be found, waiting for the harmony to return.
Ashen clenched his fist around the shard at his belt.
Whatever this vision meant, it wasn't random.
…It was a message.
Ashen finally stood slowly, keeping the artefact secured. The pulsing crystal was dangerous, yes, but it was also a clue — a key to the chaos spreading across Silurad… maybe across the Kingdom itself.
And this other half.
It meant something. It was a piece of a puzzle that could maybe help him find her.
But still…
He didn't speak, however… Nyra's soft hum and subtle vibrations of light sufficed as a reminder of his precarious position.
Suddenly, from the distance, a faint shimmering indicated more Hoppers converging, residual energy drawn toward the crystal. Ashen's eyes narrowed. He raised his pistol, dagger ready.
[Probability of immediate engagement: sixty-three percent. Tactical options: evasive retreat, defensive perimeter, or preemptive strike.] Nyra said, her voice threaded with a rare mixture of calculation and genuine tension.
Lathea joined them.
"There are people not far from here. We can't let them down!" She exclaimed.
Ashen smirked faintly. Reloading his gun with energy, he cracked his head and stepped forward.
"Preemptive strike, then." He muttered, moving into position.
The next wave would arrive soon, and he needed to hold the line long enough to secure the artefact. Nyra's light pulsed beside him, almost like a heartbeat in the quiet expanse of this part of the northern outskirts. Sora's soft hum echoed faintly from where Lathea observed, providing analysis and minor warnings.
Ashen flexed his fingers around the dagger, feeling the familiar pulse of Kovatar energy. The northern outskirts were a battlefield of instability, yet he felt alive in the chaos — sharp, aware, ready.
[Ashen, this is dangerous.] Nyra whispered, her tone strangely worried.
"Yes, but it will be fun too. Just look!" Ashen exhaled, stepping forward.
They rushed towards the arriving Hoppers.
***
After what felt like an eternity, they had dealt with the small group of Hopper and the inhabitants of the slums and were safe in the distance. These people were completely unaware of what catastrophe had almost fallen upon them.
Still… Ashen glanced at the silhouette of the distorted building in the — not-so-far — distance.
'These people are already living hell every day. They're better off without more burden.'
He sighed.
Taking the artefact out of his pocket, he looked at it for a moment. Nyra hovered over his head and spoke to him via the internal communication system.
[For some reason, I have a feeling that this artefact marks the beginning of something bigger for you.] She said.
'Wow… You have feelings, now?!' Ashen answered mentally. He chuckled when Nyra sent a small wave of Kovatar energy through him. It was her personal way of expressing a pout.
Regaining a bit of seriousness, he sighed.
His device was right…
It was the beginning of something… Something he had waited for, since only the gods know when.
It announced the next chapter of his journey to find his mother, the looming next encounter with the Hoppers and the figure in the portal, the secrets of the artefact. All of these awaited him. Every step, every calculation, every strike mattered.
…And this time, he was determined to see it through to the end.