A gritty wind raked across the jagged expanse. Airborne dust, pulverized granite from a distant, crumbling sky-island, stung Kaelen’s skin. Even through the heavy leather duster, the bite was sharp, a constant reminder of the world’s ongoing decay. Such irritations meant little to Kaelen. Their connection to the world ran deeper than surface abrasion. Stone, in its myriad forms, felt like an extension of their own being. While immediate control stretched only so far, it was enough to shape a momentary shelter from the grinding currents of the Sundered Expanse. Day’s harsh glare, night’s biting chill—the duster offered protection. Crafted from the thick hide of an Aether-Wyrm, it was surprisingly light, yet insulated with preternatural efficiency. It deflected the sun’s scorch, held in warmth against the chill, conserving precious energy. Strolling beside Dyoden, Kaelen’s gaze swept the horizon. Nothing but fractured peaks and chasmic drops stretched in every direction. No familiar peak, no ancient structure, offered comfort or direction. Here, amidst the vast, shattered grandeur, life felt infinitesimally small. Dyoden walked ahead, an unyielding pillar against the desolate backdrop. He never faltered, never glanced back, simply pressed onward. Without a clear purpose, such unwavering resolve was impossible. Days had merged into weeks since Kaelen fell in with the old man. Dyoden never spoke of his journey, his destination, or the burdens of his past. When twilight called for rest, he always settled Kreion before him, conversing with the blade. Kaelen first dismissed it as a old man’s madness. An Ego-Blade, a sword with a true spirit, was the stuff of ancient legends, surely not a reality in the Sundered Expanse. Yet, the ritual continued, day after day. Dyoden’s weathered face softened during these quiet exchanges. His eyes, usually granite-hard, gleamed with profound, almost sorrowful emotion. Come dawn, they would harden again, reflecting a stern, fierce resolve, a rage that seemed capable of tearing the very world asunder. Kaelen knew nothing of the fires that forged Dyoden’s fury. Today, the old man remained silent, pushing forward across another stretch of crumbling earth. Chewing a strip of dried meat, Kaelen followed. Since consuming the potent, crystalline heart of a young Earth Drake, Kaelen’s body had changed. Lingering weakness had vanished, replaced by sinew and resilience. Fatigue was a stranger now; Kaelen could walk for days, oblivious to the arduous trek. Without Dyoden, Kaelen would have never known of the Earth Drake’s existence, let alone its transformative power. *Who is he? What drives him through this ruin? And why am I here, following?* Questions gnawed at Kaelen, a relentless internal drone. Asking Dyoden was the logical answer, but the words felt trapped behind a wall of unspoken understanding. His nature was not one to be easily breached. *Nothing about this path is simple.* Swallowing the tough jerky, Kaelen’s throat felt dry. Reaching inside the Aether-Wyrm duster, they retrieved a supple leather pouch, also crafted from Wyrm hide. Lightweight, flexible, it held a surprising volume of water. Kaelen had filled it at the last Moss-Spring, a rare verdant pocket on a crumbling island, days ago. Sips were measured, only taken when truly necessary. One small swallow was enough to quell the parching thirst. Securing the pouch back to their waist, a subtle vibration caught Kaelen’s senses. Deep within the bedrock, a rhythmic stirring. Kaelen focused, extending their unique connection. Ten distinct pulses registered beneath the earth. They moved, slow but deliberate, from every direction. Within a radius of ten meters, the ground hummed with unseen life. Kaelen’s senses had sharpened, grown. No time to celebrate that now. Only time to prepare. The creatures, though ponderous, formed a closing circle. A trap, ready to spring. Suddenly, the rock-strewn surface ruptured. From the fissures emerged monstrous forms: multi-jointed legs, thick mandibles splitting into twin, wicked blades, eyes like polished obsidian. Their carapaces, segmented and bristling, shone with a metallic sheen—adamantine armor. These were Chasm Crawlers. Unlike the diminutive ants of old, each was larger than a grown human. They moved with the relentless hunger of a pack, their ferocity legendary in the few settlements that dotted the Expanse. A single Chasm Crawler implied a nest, a subterranean colony teeming with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of their kind. Captured prey would be dragged to the deep, fed to the queen and her hungry brood. What made the Chasm Crawlers truly terrifying was their venom. It paralyzed the body, but left the mind exquisitely aware. Victims endured the horror of being devoured, conscious to the last. Stories of opting for self-inflicted chasmic leaps rather than facing the Crawlers were common among the skiff-traders. Kaelen recognized them instantly from those grim tales. The Chasm Crawlers clacked their mandibles, a grinding chorus of menace, as they advanced. Reflecting the harsh sun, their mineral eyes and armored shells blurred Kaelen’s vision. Yet Kaelen remained steady. A low hum resonated deep in Kaelen’s throat, a soft, growing pressure against the very fabric of the earth. Five targeted blasts of focused sonic energy, raw earthen resonance, erupted from the ground. Stone-Resonance Blasts, honed to a cutting edge, slammed into the Crawlers’ heads. The creatures staggered, chitin scraping stone. Unlike the fragile forms of lesser beasts, their heads remained intact, protected by the adamantine shell. Their defense was legendary, able to repel all but the most potent strikes. Attacks from most Awakened below A-rank barely left a scratch. Encountering Chasm Crawlers meant one thing: flight, if you valued your life. Kaelen, without full knowledge of their resilience, pushed their power forward. Enraged by the assault, the Crawlers charged with renewed ferocity. Kaelen retreated, sending out continuous pulses of Stone-Resonance. The focused blasts struck their heads again and again. Each impact shuddered through the air, sending tremors through the bedrock. Still, they stood. Kaelen knew this wasn’t enough. There was no winning this way. Quickly sidestepping a snapping mandible, Kaelen concentrated their energy. The humming intensified, a singular tone aimed at a single Crawler. The air vibrated, the earth groaned. The Stone-Resonance coalesced, an invisible hammer. Finally, with a sickening crack, the targeted Crawler’s armored head exploded into fragments of chitin and ichor. Kaelen clenched their fists. More focused blasts erupted in rapid succession. With each concentrated earth-shriek, a Chasm Crawler’s head shattered, a grotesque, silent detonation against the desolate sky. Traveling with Dyoden, pushing boundaries, Kaelen’s resonant control had increased exponentially. It bridged the gap in raw power, allowing substantial damage. Confidence surged. Kaelen felt the tide turning. Then, it happened. One of the remaining Crawlers emitted a bizarre, high-frequency screech, a sound that grated on Kaelen’s own resonant senses. It was a cry, raw with terror, yet filled with a strange, primal command. Kaelen aimed a blast, shattering the head of the shrieking Crawler. Only three remained. *Finish this quickly,* Kaelen thought. *Catch up with Dyoden.* Then, the unexpected. Numerous pulses, far more than before, exploded in Kaelen’s senses. Too many. Before Kaelen could react, the ground around them erupted. More Chasm Crawlers. Dozens of them. Then hundreds. Their numbers, previously unimaginable, now swarmed. Kaelen understood: the high-frequency screech was a call, a summoning. A wave of Crawlers, an entire legion, was now closing in, surrounding Kaelen completely. The new arrivals emitted a horrifying cacophony of clicks and hisses, a grinding chorus that filled the air. Then they charged, a dark tide of chitin and hunger. Kaelen moved with desperate speed, sliding across the fractured earth, propelled by subtle seismic pulses. A mandible snapped inches from Kaelen’s chest. They retaliated instantly, a Stone-Resonance Blast erupting into the Crawler’s skull. Fragments of its body splattered across Kaelen’s duster, hot and foul. The other Crawlers attacked with even greater ferocity. Kaelen fought back, a primal shout tearing from their throat. Amidst the frenzied combat, Kaelen’s eyes snagged on a figure atop a distant, sheer rock spire. Dyoden sat there, Kreion resting beside him. He watched, an impassive observer, as Kaelen battled the relentless tide. “Chasm Crawlers always flock when one of their kind is threatened,” Dyoden murmured to Kreion, his voice a low rumble. “Never assume the first wave is all there is.” Even now, the ground thrummed with their high-frequency calls, drawing more from the depths. An entire nest, a teeming colony, was converging. Dyoden sensed it, a rising tide of subterranean movement. Kaelen exerted all strength, unleashing Stone-Resonance Blasts. Each pulse shattered a head, but for every Crawler felled, two more seemed to surge from the earth. “Not enough,” Dyoden muttered. “Far from sufficient.” Kaelen possessed a rare gift, a potent connection to the lithosphere, a blessing in this broken world of living stone. Yet, Kaelen failed to grasp the true breadth of their potential, the heights of its utility. Such understanding came only through collision with true adversity. The Sundered Expanse judged an Awakened by their insignias, their ascribed rank. Martial, Arcane, D-rank, S-rank—a rigid hierarchy. When Awakened gained abilities, they were steered towards standardized, ‘safe’ development paths, never truly unlocking their full power. They were taught to fit a mold. One had to face extremity, teeter on the edge of the chasm between life and death. Realize one’s shortcomings, then ponder how to bridge that gap. This, Dyoden believed, was the true path of growth for an Awakened. The powerful figures of the fleeting settlements, those who called themselves leaders, disagreed. Dyoden’s methods were too slow, too inefficient. They dismissed him as a relic. “Hard-headed fools!” Dyoden snarled under his breath, eyes still on Kaelen. “So lost in their petty power games, they don’t even see the true state of the world.” A century had passed since the Great Sundering. Most had perished. Only a scattered few remained, and Dyoden was one who remembered the horrors of that time. He witnessed its genesis, the despair, the countless lives lost. Civilization had crumbled overnight. Transmogrified monsters had ravaged the planet. No one could fathom the immense, burning anger he carried, watching helplessly as his family, his friends, became mere fodder for the nightmare creatures. He survived, Awakened, yet the memories never faded. Some told Dyoden to forgive himself. How could he? A hundred years later, he still could not forgive himself for watching his wife die. He called everyone else an idiot. The biggest idiot, he knew, was himself. With a wild, mad gleam, Dyoden watched Kaelen. Kaelen fought, a whirlwind of desperate motion, dodging mandibles, retaliating with Stone-Resonance Blasts. A standardized approach. Kaelen might believe it was their best, but it fell short of Dyoden’s expectations. “Prove your worth by surviving on your own, you fool!” Dyoden’s voice, a gravelly whisper, carried on the wind, unheard by Kaelen, but echoing a truth as hard as the very stone beneath them. He turned, Kreion still resting at his side, and vanished over the spire’s edge.

Stone and Shriek