Varkai: Arc I — Ashes of the Shatterworld
The Spiral thrummed.
Not wildly—not like panic.
It was slower than fear.
Stronger than instinct.
Deeper than memory.
And as the Dust-Eyed closed in, Vrakon did not raise his weapon immediately.
He listened.
The Genesis Pulse in the air—tainted as it was—tugged at the edges of his senses like threads pulled loose from a fraying cloth. It shifted through the ash, coiled beneath the marrow-veined soil.
There was movement in everything.
And in that moment, he understood something simple—something small:
> Pulse was not just inside him.
It was everywhere.
---
⚔️ The Dust-Eyed Strike
The first attacker—a bone-armored brute with a rusted shard-axe—charged fast and low. Vrakon sidestepped, the Spiral guiding his footwork, and slid the spear forward, grazing the man's shoulder.
A clean strike. But not fatal.
The second came from above—leaping, twin marrow-knives flashing white against the sky. Vrakon ducked, twisting, then reached out—not with his hands.
With his Pulse.
---
The air shimmered.
Not enough to see.
But enough to disturb.
A ripple, like heat rising off broken glass.
The man's trajectory faltered mid-air—his right foot missed its mark by a hair's width. He landed awkwardly, staggered.
Vrakon moved in.
The butt of his spear cracked the man's temple.
He fell—silent, unconscious, not dead.
---
> "Saltborn Pulse," murmured a voice from the circle.
"You don't belong in the Mawlands."
A new figure stepped forward.
Leaner. Focused. Not like the others.
His armor wasn't scavenged—it was formed. Pale green plates fused with sinew-strapped bone. His weapon: a double-edged glaive forged from layered Saltsteel—rarest of the old war materials, found only in collapsed Genesis storm cores.
His eyes: clear.
Too clear.
A Fracta-Wielder. Level 2.
Right at the edge of advancing.
---
The Wander-Kin
> "You Spiral too clean for the Wastes," the man said. "You've seen the Fractal Flame."
Vrakon said nothing.
But the Spiral inside him responded—glowing faintly beneath his skin. The man saw it. And smiled.
> "Then it's true," he whispered. "The Maw didn't swallow you."
> "Why are you following me?" Vrakon asked, voice low, steady.
> "I'm not," the man said. "I was drawn to you. Like salt to fire."
He raised his glaive.
> "I need to know why."
---
Duel of the Dust
They fought—not like animals.
Not like prey.
Like wielders.
Each movement had weight. Intention. Spiral-laced blows clashed with Saltsteel precision. The earth cracked beneath them, the Pulse lashing faintly with every strike.
Vrakon was faster.
But the Dust-Eyed Wielder was seasoned.
Still—Vrakon had something else.
As the duel stretched on, he began to shift Pulse through the ground—slight changes. Slips. Delays. Imperfections in balance. And then—
An opening.
He let the Spiral flow freely from his core, into the soil, into his weapon.
And struck.
The glaive shattered.
The man dropped to one knee, breathing hard. Then, slowly—he laughed.
> "You're not from here," he said. "But you belong here now."
---
After the Dust
Vrakon didn't kill him.
Instead, he lowered the spear and stepped back.
The other Dust-Eyed retreated without a word.
The man remained.
> "Name's Kheln," he said after a moment. "Or what's left of it. Used to walk with the Crimson Choir."
> Vrakon didn't react.
> "Don't worry. I left before they started gutting children for Pulse stones."
> He paused.
> "Where you headed?"
> "South," Vrakon said. "Through the Barren Steps. I seek something beyond the Maw."
> "Then you'll need more than instinct. The Pulse changes south of here. Twists. Tangles."
Kheln stood.
> "You walk like a shadow. But your Spiral burns too bright to hide. Something's hunting you."
> Vrakon nodded once.
> "Then let it try."
---
✦ Chapter Close: The Threshold of Essence
That night, as ash winds howled over the dunes, Vrakon sat beneath a shattered Pulse-arch and let the Spiral guide his breath.
His senses expanded.
The Pulse was clearer now. The threads more responsive. He could feel the difference. Not just in strength—but in structure.
He was no longer simply carrying the Spiral.
He was shaping it.
The Essence Initiate realm had begun.