The battlefield of Cell 7 no longer echoed with battle cries.
It groaned.
The sky was torn open by smoke and fire. The ground was no longer earth but a graveyard of shattered weapons and broken Core fragments flickering like dying stars. Bodies from Cell 1 to Cell 9 lay scattered across the wasteland, their once-glorious Axes collapsed among them.
A thousand dead.
Again.
The annual war for Cell 10 had ended as it always did—
With nothing.
No ruler.
No victor.
Only silence and corpses.
Among the fallen, one figure stirred.
Linnaeus.
The Axe of Cell 4.
His armor was cracked. Deep wounds carved across his torso, yet his body refused to fall. Around him, the soil decayed into ash, corroded by the invisible aura of Ruin that radiated from his Core.
He rose slowly.
In the distance, the floating throne of Cell 10 hovered in the dark sky — untouched, unreachable, mocking them all.
"…Still out of reach," Linnaeus muttered.
Another year.
Another thousand graves.
He turned away from the battlefield without claiming glory. Survival was not victory. It was merely postponement.
And postponement was no longer enough.
Three nights later, he entered Cell 5 — the land of Abundance.
Green plains stretched wide, rivers shimmering beneath moonlight. But to reach the Archary, one had to cross the outer wildlands — a region long abandoned after mutated creatures began to roam it.
The first obstacle came at dusk.
A pack of Thorn Beasts emerged from the forest — creatures born from corrupted Abundance energy. Their bodies were layered with bark-like armor, vines writhing from their spines, eyes glowing with feral hunger.
They charged.
Linnaeus did not draw a weapon.
The moment they leapt, the air around him withered.
Vines turned brittle. Bark armor cracked. Flesh decayed mid-motion. The beasts collapsed into dry husks before touching him.
He continued walking.
Deeper into the wildlands, the ground itself shifted. A Mire Titan rose from the marsh — a massive creature of mud and stone, formed from centuries of abandoned Core energy. Its roar shook the trees as it swung a colossal arm toward him.
The impact never landed.
The Titan's arm eroded into dust before reaching Linnaeus. Cracks spread across its body like disease. Within seconds, the giant crumbled into lifeless sediment.
Yet even Linnaeus exhaled slowly.
Not from exhaustion.
From impatience.
The world resisted change.
Finally, at the heart of Cell 5, he reached a small wooden dwelling hidden among tall fields.
Inside waited Oryza.
The old fortune teller wore a black robe that pooled like shadow at his feet. His white hair framed blind eyes that seemed to pierce through time itself.
"You survived again," Oryza said softly.
"I seek an end," Linnaeus replied. "Tell me how to break the cycle."
Silence lingered.
Then Oryza spoke.
"Under the coming full moon, in the abandoned village called the Archary, a child will be born. He will carry a Core unlike any before him. He will absorb the powers of the Nine Cells. If he survives… he will conquer them. He will ascend to Cell 10."
"And end the war?" Linnaeus asked.
"Or destroy everything," Oryza answered.
The air grew heavy.
"He will be born to a poor family," the fortune teller continued. "A woman already suffering. Many forces will move to stop him before he draws breath."
Linnaeus turned toward the dark horizon.
The path to the Archary would not be guarded only by monsters.
Other Axes would feel the shift in fate.
And they would come hunting.
Without another word, Linnaeus stepped back into the night.
Above him, the moon slowly began to grow fuller.
For the first time in centuries—
Hope walked through a world built on graves.
The road beyond the fortune teller's dwelling narrowed into wilderness.
The Archary lay far from the cities of Cell 5 — beyond fertile lands, beyond the guarded trade paths, beyond even the territories protected by Abundance's guardians. It was a forgotten place, abandoned after repeated Core disturbances twisted the land itself.
Few dared to walk there.
Linnaeus walked alone.
The deeper he traveled, the heavier the air became. Life in Cell 5 was meant to flourish — but here, growth had turned violent.
Trees arched unnaturally, branches knotted like skeletal fingers. Grass grew waist-high, blades sharp enough to cut exposed skin. The Abundance energy was unstable this far from the capital.
It did not create.
It mutated.
A low tremor ran through the soil.
The ground split open.
From beneath erupted a swarm of Root Crawlers — grotesque creatures formed of flesh intertwined with vines, their mouths splitting vertically as they screeched. They rushed him in waves, dozens at once.
Linnaeus did not retreat.
He stepped forward.
The first creature leapt.
His fingers brushed its skull.
Silence.
Then collapse.
The monster disintegrated from the point of contact outward, its body aging decades in seconds before turning into gray dust. The decay spread like infection to the next, and the next. In moments, the swarm crumbled into nothing.
Ruin.
His Core pulsed faintly beneath his chest.
Everything he touched would eventually return to nothing.
The forest grew darker.
Then the sky shifted.
A shadow blotted out the moon.
A Winged Devourer descended — a massive beast born from corrupted Abundance energy, its wings stitched with bone-like ridges, its maw glowing with unstable green light. It shrieked and unleashed a blast of condensed life-force capable of tearing through mountains.
The blast struck Linnaeus directly.
Smoke swallowed him.
When it cleared, he was still standing.
His coat burned. His shoulder bled.
But his eyes remained calm.
The Devourer swooped again.
This time, Linnaeus extended his hand.
The air itself decayed.
The space between them withered as if time had rotted. The creature's wing brushed his palm for the briefest instant.
That was enough.
Cracks raced across its body. Feathers shriveled. Flesh collapsed inward. The beast let out a distorted cry before its enormous form imploded into drifting ash.
The forest fell silent once more.
Linnaeus exhaled slowly.
Each use of Ruin was absolute. There was no resistance, no defense once contact was made. His power did not slash or burn.
It ended.
Yet the journey was far from over.
As the night deepened, he sensed something else — not a monster, but presence. Observers. Watching from a distance. The shift of fate had already begun to ripple through the Cells.
If creatures of the wildlands were drawn to it…
Soon, other Axes would be too.
The Archary was still miles ahead — a forgotten village at the edge of Cell 5, where a poor family waited unknowingly beneath the rising full moon.
Linnaeus continued forward, boots crushing brittle leaves into dust.
Monsters could be destroyed.
But destiny—
That would be a far greater battle.