The snow on the surface of the Shattered Peak was no longer pristine. At one point, right on the lip of the chasm that had collapsed two months prior, a mound of ice suddenly exploded. Not from a noisy magical blast, but from a thrust of mass so powerful it compressed the snow into sharp crystal shards.
A figure shot out from the darkness of the abyss, landing with a heavy thud that shook the surrounding rock foundation.
Elian Vane stood tall on the frozen white expanse. The cold mountain air that usually pierced lungs now felt bland to him. His body, now possessing bone density defying human logic, absorbed the cold as if he were part of the mountain itself.
He stared at his hands. Black lines like ancient tree roots spread from his fingers, hiding beneath the sleeves of his black clothes, now tattered and torn. On his back, his ancestor's rusted sword was tied with remnants of silk cloth. The sword looked useless, but to Elian, it carried the immeasurable weight of history.
"The outside world..." Elian murmured.
His voice was now flat, having lost the high pitch of childhood. It was the voice of silence given life.
He closed his eyes, activating his Nature Sense. Its range had doubled. He no longer felt just plants; he felt the vibration of the earth, the flow of water beneath the ice, and... irregular heartbeats about five hundred meters ahead.
Humans.
Elian began to walk. He no longer walked with trembling legs fighting the Ring of Weight. Instead, every step felt deliberate. He didn't press against the ground; he let his mass merge with the earth's gravity.
In a makeshift camp hidden behind a cave niche, five men sat around a dim magic bonfire. They wore iron-plated leather armor—not the shiny armor of Templars, but the functional gear of bounty hunters.
"It's been two months, Axe. No one survives falling into the Abyss of Whispers," grumbled a skinny man while sharpening his dagger.
The man called Axe, a giant with a scar across his face, snorted. "The Church pays a fortune for certainty. If we find a piece of a cloak or a bone of that Vane brat, we can retire peacefully in Noctis. Sir Alaric won't let this case close without proof of a corpse."
"But this place is cursed. I feel like thousands of eyes are watching us from the darkness," another man whispered, his hand shaking as he held a bottle of rum.
Suddenly, the magic bonfire in their midst flickered. Its blue flame dimmed, as if the oxygen around them suddenly became heavy.
Thump... Thump...
The footsteps were quiet, yet each thud was felt directly in their solar plexus.
"Who goes there?!" Axe stood, grabbing his massive battleaxe. His four subordinates immediately drew their weapons, forming a defensive formation.
From behind the thick snow mist, a silhouette emerged.
It was a boy. His appearance was deeply contradictory; his face was so beautiful and smooth, almost resembling an angel lost in hell. Yet, his black hair streaked with grey and his pitch-black, emotionless eyes gave the impression that he was the deadliest of predators.
"A kid...?" Axe narrowed his eyes. He saw the torn black clothes and the rusted sword on the boy's back. "Wait... you... Elian Vane?"
Elian didn't answer. He kept walking closer.
"Stop!" the skinny man shouted, throwing his dagger with Tier 2 speed.
Elian didn't dodge. He simply raised his left hand—the hand bearing the black tattoo.
Ping!
The steel dagger struck Elian's palm, but instead of cutting him, the dagger snapped in two as if it had just hit an obsidian wall.
A chilling silence fell over the camp.
"What the hell is with your skin?!" Axe roared, fear beginning to creep into his chest. "Attack him! Take his head!"
Two bounty hunters charged from the right and left flanks. Their swords glowed with yellow Aura.
Elian exhaled slowly.
He didn't draw his sword. He simply stomped his right foot onto the ground.
BOOM!
The ground beneath the hunters caved in violently. A shockwave of pure gravity swept over them, snapping their shins instantly. They fell face-first into the snow, screaming in pain that was immediately muffled by the cold night.
The skinny man tried to attack from behind with a second dagger. Elian performed a semi-circular spin. The movement looked slow, but the momentum was massive.
SMACK!
The back of Elian's left hand slammed into the skinny man's chest. There was no external wound, but the sound of shattering ribs was clear. The man was thrown ten meters, crashing into the cave wall and moving no more.
Axe stood alone, his hands shaking violently as he held his weapon. He had seen much death, but nothing like this. This boy used no magic, no complex sword techniques. He was just... heavy.
"You... you are a monster..." Axe whispered.
Elian stopped right in front of the giant. He looked up, staring into Axe's terrified eyes.
"Where is the fastest route to the Noctis border?" Elian asked. His voice was smooth, yet carried a resonance that made Axe's chest tight.
"I-I won't tell you, Demon!" Axe raised his axe, trying to cleave Elian's head with all his might.
Elian raised only one finger. His left index finger.
Crack!
The giant axe blade shattered upon contact with Elian's finger. Elian then grabbed Axe's wrist.
"Hurts?" Elian asked flatly. He began to squeeze.
Axe screamed as he felt his arm bones being slowly crushed, as if clamped by a giant press. "Argh! Stop! Stop! Through the west valley! There is a black market trading post there! Please... let me go!"
Elian released his grip. Axe fell to his knees, clutching his ruined hand.
"Thank you," Elian said.
He walked past Axe, but stopped near their supply pile. Elian took a bag of jerky and a leather map lying on the table. He was a pragmatist now. If he wanted to reach Lunaria on time, he needed supplies.
"Kid..." Axe gasped, staring at Elian's back. "The Church... they will never let you live. You carry something they fear."
Elian didn't turn. He stepped out of the cave niche, back into the snowstorm.
"I am already dead to them," Elian whispered to the wind. "And dead men cannot be killed twice."
***
POV: Elian Vane
Their blood smells of dirty iron. Not sweet like wolf blood.
In the past, I would feel nauseous seeing human bones piercing their own skin. Now, I just feel... efficient.
My body feels incredibly dense. Every step I take feels like I am marking this world that I am still here.
That ring... it no longer gives me instructions. It is me. I am it.
I can feel vibrations in the distance. Many humans heading this way. The Templars haven't given up.
Three more weeks, Master. Wait for me at the edge of the shadows.
Elian launched himself using Mass Leap.
Every time his feet touched the ground, a small crater formed, and his body was propelled dozens of meters. Under the silver moonlight, he looked like a black shadow slicing through the snow with terrifying grace.
He headed for the West Valley.
He knew his journey had only just begun. The bounty hunters were mere pebbles. His true opponent was time, and the pain beginning to creep back as his hibernation effects fully wore off.
However, there was something different in the way Elian stared at the horizon. No more hesitation. No more tears. Only a sharp focus directed at a single point: a reunion that would change the history of this continent.