The surface greeted them not with peace, but with silence.
Kai stepped out of the mountain's breathless mouth, his boots crunching into soil that hadn't felt light in years. The sky overhead was bruised with gray clouds, thin rays of gold piercing through like wounded arrows.
Ayaka inhaled deeply, the scent of open air grounding her. "Feels like it's been a lifetime."
Ren stretched his arms. "Feels like we left one behind."
Behind them, the mountain rumbled softly—as if acknowledging their triumph. Sealed, not with fear… but choice.
Kai still held the orb, now cooled and dormant. Not dead—just waiting.
But their journey wasn't over.
Villages had burned. Clans had fractured. The Cult of the Hollow Flame wasn't the only threat. Rumors already whispered of northern warlords harnessing stolen root energy… and rogue sects rising to claim the chaos as their own.
At the foot of the mountain, a traveler waited.
Clad in gray. Hood drawn. Eyes blindfolded.
"Kai of the Rootless Flame," the figure said, voice like wind across old parchment. "The World Seed calls to you. But so do the ones who would destroy it."
Kai stepped forward. "And who are you to deliver its warning?"
The figure smiled faintly. "Not a warning."
He raised his hand—and revealed a scar carved in the shape of the fallen clan's symbol.
"A challenge."