The remaining initiates, clinging to crumbling parapets or sliding down masonry, looked up at Sujan, then at each other. The shouts of “Five days?!” and “He’s dying?” ripped through the dust-choked air. Some screamed, some wept, others just stared, hollow-eyed, at the ethereal shimmer around Sujan’s legs. The panicked shouting drowned out the crackle of falling brick. “Everyone! Head for the Titan’s ribcage! There’s shelter inside!” Sujan’s voice, though strained, cut through the din, still surprisingly cheerful. “It’s a bit dusty, but think of it as a grand, impromptu cave party!” He flashed a wide, reassuring grin, ignoring the ghostly shimmer that now crept higher, past his knees, making his movements feel like wading through thick water. Talon, surprisingly, was the first to react. He barked orders, his own voice hoarse, directing younger novices toward the gaping maw in the colossus's petrified flank. Nyra, her features hard and set, helped a limping apprentice, her gaze flicking between Sujan’s translucent form and the encroaching Asura-blight that now crawled over the titan's leathery hide. Hours later, the interior of the Earth Titan, a vast cathedral of calcified bone and petrified organ, pulsed with the soft glow of emergency Prana-lamps. Hundreds of ascendants, instructors, and Citadel staff huddled together on the chalky floor. The air tasted of pulverised mortar, sweat, and copper. “It’s true, isn’t it?” A young Brawler named Rishab murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “He really only has five days?” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathered ascendants. Accusations, born of terror, began to fly. “We’re doomed!” cried a girl. “He’s useless to us now!” hissed another. A few even pointed accusing fingers at Sujan, who sat cross-legged on a smooth bone plate, carefully unwrapping spiced rations from his satchel, his smile unwavering. “Alright, hungry adventurers!” Sujan announced, his voice echoing a little too brightly in the vast space. “Who’s ready for some delicious, slightly crushed, but still absolutely scrumptious Ravanese spice-bread? Freshly… uh… liberated from the collapsing mess hall!” He tossed a small, aromatic package to a trembling novice, then another, moving with a deliberate slowness that hid the numbness in his translucent calves. Nyra watched him, her brow furrowed. She accepted a ration from his outstretched hand, her fingers brushing his, feeling the unsettling chill that emanated from his fading form. “You’re trying too hard,” she said softly, her voice low enough only for him to hear. “They see it.” Sujan winked. “Just spreading some good cheer! Besides, what’s a little existential dread among friends? Consider it… spicy motivation!” He pushed another ration toward her, then leaned in, his smile dropping a fraction. “Any bright ideas, Nyra? You know this cult’s habits better than anyone. Where would our giant neighbor park his corrupted core?” Nyra chewed slowly, her eyes scanning the immense, ribbed cavern. She looked up at the ceiling, at the faint glow of the Titan’s core, now visibly corrupted by a sickening purple light that pulsed with Vritra’s influence. Her eyes narrowed, tracing the Prana-channels embedded in the Titan’s ancient structure. “The Corrupted God… it’s not just influencing the Titan. It’s *in* it. Vritra wants the Titan’s power, but the God itself… it needs an anchor, a focal point. Something to truly bind its will here.” Her gaze snapped to the center of the cavern, where the faint, rhythmic thrum of the Titan’s petrified heart could be felt. “It’s there. The Heart of Jambudvipa. The anchor.” Sujan’s smile tightened, a flicker of his old, terrifying resolve in his eyes. “Well, that’s just rude. Crashing a party and taking the biggest trophy.” Suddenly, a shriek pierced the air. A young first-year novice, arm bound in cloth, stumbled from the shadows near the back wall, wincing. “Help me! My arm…” he cried, clutching his wound. Sujan, ever the compassionate fool, started to rise, his translucent legs struggling to bear his weight. “Easy there, little one,” he said, extending a hand. As Sujan took a step, the 'wounded' student’s expression twisted into a snarl. His bandaged arm ripped open, revealing a wickedly barbed, obsidian blade. With a guttural cry, he lunged, aiming directly for Sujan’s back, right where the spine met the shoulder blade. The blade gleamed with a malevolent, toxic sheen. Sujan saw the trajectory through the haze of his failing limbs, but the muscles refused the command. A blur of crimson and gold flashed across the stone. Talon, who had been organizing a defensive perimeter, let out a harsh cry and threw himself forward, intercepting the strike. The obsidian blade sliced straight through Talon's bronze breastplate, burying itself to the hilt. Talon coughed, dark droplets spraying across Sujan’s tunic. His stare locked onto Sujan. “Sujan… my… debt…” he wheezed, before slumping against the bone floor. The infiltrator snarled, wrenching the dagger free to strike again. “Talon!” Sujan roared, ancient instinct tearing through his cheerful facade. His ethereal legs solidified for a brief, terrible instant, and the Suncleaver, which had clattered nearby, flew into his grip, blazing with divine light. He moved with impossible speed, a blur of golden fury, striking the assassin down before the cultist could even register the movement. The cultist crumpled, a lifeless husk. But Sujan didn’t spare the assassin another glance. He fell to his knees beside Talon, pressing both palms against the torn bronze plate to staunch the wound. Talon’s breathing rattled, shallow and brittle, as his pulse sputtered out. [Dharma Wheel Chime: Critical Soul Duration Detected for Allied Combatant: Talon. Option Initiated: Soul Transfer. Transfer remaining Soul Duration to Talon to stabilize. Cost: All remaining Soul Duration. Effect: Talon Stabilized, User: Soul Expires Immediately. Y/N?]

The Hollow Heart