The land grew stranger with every step.
Scorched ground curled upward like the edges of burnt parchment, while jagged spines of ice jutted from beneath the soil, their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed faintly—almost like a heartbeat. The air shimmered with heat in one breath, then burned with frost the next.
They were close.
Eliakim could feel the Collar of Veyrun reacting—its faint hum vibrating against his skin, cycling between a low growl and a sharp, icy hiss. Skyling shifted restlessly on his shoulder, wings twitching.
Ezra's voice was quiet, tinged with awe. "The anomaly's heart… it's alive."
They crested a ridge, and the sight before them stole their breath.
At the center of a blasted crater churned a spiraling rift, half flame, half frost—two opposing forces locked in a violent dance, twisting upward into the clouds like a frozen inferno. The ground around it was split into alternating zones of searing ash and jagged ice, and the very air sang with a high, haunting resonance.
Gideon cracked his knuckles. "Guess that's our target."
From behind a wall of crystalline ice stepped a familiar figure—tall, cloaked in black and red, half-mask of metal covering the lower face. The hooded man from the parade.
"You again," Eliakim said sharply.
The stranger didn't answer immediately. They lazily uncoiled their whip—braided from what looked like living rose stems, thorns glinting with frost and fire.
Ezra's eyes narrowed. "That weapon's aura… it's bound to the rift."
Finally, the masked stranger spoke, their voice low and measured."You shouldn't be here, heir of seven."
Before more could be said, a sudden rumble rolled through the Emberroot Plains. The ground cracked, and a tide of porings—thousands strong—came pouring in from every direction. Not hostile at first, only swarming… toward the rift.
And then the earth burst open.
From the crater rose the Poring King they had just defeated hours ago—only now, its translucent body was darker, swirled with streaks of frost-blue and ember-red. It had absorbed every poring across the plains, growing to a monstrous size, its mass pulsing like molten jelly.
The hooded man whipped around to face it, but before he could react, the creature surged forward—and swallowed him whole.
Eliakim's eyes widened. "It absorbed him—!"
Ezra stumbled back. "No… it's using him as a core. He's fueling the anomaly!"
The Poring King's new form was grotesque—half its body steamed with boiling heat, the other half crackled with ice. It let out a sound like boiling water meeting frost, then lunged forward.
The fight began instantly.
Gideon charged in first, fighting barehanded—his unfinished twin axe left behind for safety. His half-lycan form surged with raw power, every strike sending shockwaves through the jelly-like mass. Eliakim darted around its flanks, calling out precise weak points where the magic destabilized the body. Skyling dove from above, talons raking and distracting its eyes.
Ezra… froze.
She stood rooted, her hands trembling—not from fear, but from something unseen. Mana flared around her in wild, uncontrolled bursts, threatening to lash out at allies as much as the enemy.
"Ezra! Snap out of it!" Eliakim shouted.
But the Poring King slammed a frost-coated tendril into him, sending him sprawling. His vision blurred, blood filling his mouth.
In the chaos, he felt the bracelet on his wrist heat up—and the ring finger chain of the Aetherwell Bloom pulsed once, releasing a faint golden glow. His pain dulled, the bleeding slowed. It wasn't enough to heal him fully, but just enough to stand again.
Gideon was roaring now, driving his claws deep into the creature's molten side. Skyling tore at its eyes. Eliakim's mind raced, calculating how to free the hooded man before the anomaly consumed him completely.
Inside the Poring King's core, the hooded man fought—eyes shut, whip coiled tightly around his arm, wrestling for his own consciousness against the rift's pull.
"Gideon!" Eliakim shouted, bracing himself. "One more push—we end it here!"
The monster let out a deafening shriek, its body glowing brighter as if about to explode.
Eliakim gritted his teeth, blood still running down his temple. His mind sharpened—one last tactic forming.
And then—
The ground shook violently.
The Poring King's mass began to split open… revealing the faint silhouette of the hooded man inside, his body flickering between life and rift-born corruption.
Eliakim stepped forward, chain on his thumb twitching wildly.
One last stand.