South of the Crimson Forest, nestled against the jagged coastline, lies a small town. Once, it thrived—its streets bustling with merchants, its harbors filled with ships from distant lands. At its peak, it stood as a jewel of the greatest empire the world had ever known.
But then came the Great Fracture.
The empire was annihilated in an instant, wiped from existence as if it had never been. Only a handful survived—those fortunate enough to be away when the calamity struck. With nowhere else to go, they returned to the ruins and chose to rebuild atop the bones of their fallen kingdom.
Time passed. The town barely endured. It clung to life, its people scraping by through the tireless efforts of fishermen and artisans. Hope had long since withered, replaced by quiet resignation.
And then they arrived.
A group of wanderers. They called themselves the Researchers of the Long Lost, men driven by an obsession to uncover the past and rebuild what was lost. Many call them mad. They see only the ruin of the world, but the Researchers see hope. Their creed—We will find and rebuild—is etched into their flags. They wear no uniforms, yet each bears a single feather-stitched hat, a silent mark of their fellowship. They have a hub in the Capital where they bring all the knowledge found in the field... And the dead bodies of their passed-away members. Mostly the dead bodies...
A team stationed by the ocean had acquired a ship, financed by a wealthy patron among them. Despite the locals' pleas, they set sail. For a day and a half, the sea was calm. Excitement and trepidation gripped them as they neared their goal: the ruins beneath the waves. Three chosen members would descend—each clad in a specially crafted suits made out of an extremely sturdy and somewhat light material, engraved with runes that granted them two hours of breath.
The youngest was twenty-three, the eldest sixty-one. Alongside them, a seasoned researcher of thirty-four.
Weighted by heavy stones, they sank into the abyss. The world above vanished into blackness. Hitting the ground, a dust cloud formed around them. The elder activated his rune, casting pale light into the void.
What they saw beneath the waves was beyond their wildest imaginings. Towering monoliths, etched with strange glyphs, loomed from the seabed. Further ahead, a stone tablet lay half-buried in silt. Its inscription sent a shiver through their bones:
THE ESSENCE OF A DEAD GOD CANNOT BE USED BY MORTALS.
A city sprawled before them, its ruins frozen in time. Forgotten structures, eroded by the tides, still whispered of a lost age. They worked feverishly, cataloging, studying. They did not notice the water growing thick, the murky black tinged with red.
By the time they sensed the change, it was too late.
A ringing filled their ears, slowly overtaken by ethereal murmurs. From the darkness, something vast emerged—a colossus of flesh, its shifting mass writhing with parasitic worms of raw, pink muscle. Tendrils slithered from its grotesque form, feeding off the lifeless and the living alike.
Panic surged through them. They activated their runes, releasing the pressure in their suits to propel them upward. The thirty-four-year-old did not make it—dragged into the darkness by a writhing appendage. The other two rocketed toward the surface, desperate for escape. But when they saw their ship—their salvation—being dragged down in the depth. Warped tendrils crushed it like brittle bone, they knew all hope was lost.
The youngest man was next. One moment, he was there. The next, he was gone.
The elder remained. Floating. Clutching the dim light of his rune. Below him, the ruins faded into shadow. Only IT remained—the vast, pulsing mass of flesh. Like a grotesque moon, loomed in the darkness.
Time unraveled. The abyss spoke to him. He was chosen.
His body blackened. His skin twisted, sprouting crystalline spikes that tore through his suit. He merged with the inanimate object. His soul was gone, and yet he remained. Was his soul never HIM? Or was HE torn from his own soul?
The whisper of the Flesh Moon silenced his thoughts.
BRING ME MORE FLESH.
He saw a glimpse of the two men he dove with now stuck to the globe. Their barely conscious bodies being drained of life. The corrupted man turned away in search of new flesh to feed on...