While Petra was beginning her next little adventure, the camera turns quietly to the southern part of the Dark Swamp, to a place where the land had fallen completely silent and was untouched by the chaos that plagued the rest of the western region.
Here, the earth was still, and the wind refused to blow.
It was an unnaturally 'peaceful' place, one that no outsiders had dared to step into for decades.
In the center of this static expanse of blackened water, rose a short, stone mountain, and from its peak emerged a single structure that pierced into the clouds and flickered with an obsidian light.
This was the Black Tower, one of the four nine-story mage towers on the Cross Continent.
Unlike the Sky Tower of the Central Region, known for its divination and spatial technologies…
Unlike the Storm Tower of the Eastern Region, devoted to weather magic and the study of the Void…
And unlike the Royal Tower of the Southern Region, home to the evolution of magic weapons and large-scale transportation artifacts…
The Black Tower served a completely different purpose.
It was the 'forge' of the continent, a place where alchemy and metallurgy intertwined, where materials were broken down, reshaped, and reborn.
Here, they studied the essence of creation itself, not to understand it, but to refine it.
This was the golden land for the craftsmen of the Cross Continent.
Here, on one of the upper floors, three figures stood together, discussing something that would shape the future of the world.
* * *
"So, you're both descendants of the Tibon Family?" Hitrit asked, his tone calm, but his eyes sharpened with a spark of interest.
"Yes!" Pen said quickly.
"Yeah!" Pot echoed from beside.
They stood side by side in the dim light of the Black Tower's fourth floor, both dressed in the black robes of the Black Tower's Tower Mages.
After returning with Hitrit from the Solarin Castle, they had been nervous at first, terrified even. The two siblings had no background, so entering the Black Tower was almost like an insult in their minds. The Second Calamity had just begun, and the entire western region was trembling, quite literally, so they were lost for many days.
But soon, their fear gave way to something far greater.
And that was shock.
The kind of shock that ran up the spine and settled in the throat when they learned the truth.
Their teacher, quiet, composed, and often unreadable and cold, wasn't just another four-star alchemist, no, he was one of the Tower Pillars of the Black Tower.
He was a real bigshot!
They never could have imagined just how high Hitrit's position truly was.
Pot, who had shown extraordinary talent in rune smithing, had been accepted as a student of the Black Tower along with Pen. Though she didn't quite understand why, she could feel that the Black Tower treated her brother differently.
Perhaps, Hitrit was concealing even more secrets than they could ever imagine.
"Our mother threw us away when we were young!" Pen exclaimed, his hands clenching at his sides.
Hitrit raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think that?"
"I remember it clearly!" Pen exclaimed, nodding almost defensively at the question.
Hitrit's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about the Tibon Family?"
"I know they're a powerful family of alchemists!" Pen answered quickly.
Outside the Western Region, the Tibon Family had a relatively good reputation.
"Do you remember your mother?" Hitrit asked again, more pressing this time.
Pen froze. "No…" He hesitated. "I… I guess I don't. It was too long ago." He tried to reassure himself.
Hitrit's gaze didn't soften as he asked again. "Do you want to go back?"
"Yes!" Pen answered without hesitation.
"Fool!" Hitrit's voice rolled through the room like thunder.
Pen flinched, stepping back.
"The Tibon Family is not a place to return to," Hitrit said sharply. "Think about your sister before you say something so stupid!"
"How do you know?" Pot asked quietly from behind, almost afraid of the answer.
She seemed to feel something in his words.
Hitrit's eyes flickered as a faint shadow crossed his face. Then, at last, he said, "Because I am also from the Tibon Family."
Both siblings froze.
"What!" Pot gasped.
"What!?" Pen echoed.
They couldn't believe it. Did that mean that the teacher they had taken was actually their relative?
After a pause…
Hitrit exhaled, his expression unreadable. "I ran away. The Black Tower took me in, and that was the only reason I survived. If the Tibon Family finds out about you two, you'll never escape their pursuit, especially with your first realm cultivation. It might already be too late."
Pen's voice trembled. "B-but… my mother?"
Hitrit's eyes darkened, and he spat. "She probably sacrificed herself to send you out, fool…!"
Pot's breath hitched. "Ah…"
"From what you've said, it matches the timing of that incident from around a decade ago. Your mother likely used it as a cover to run away with you. I used it too, and so did a few others. It was the only window any of us ever had to leave. Since then, the family has sealed every path of escape. No one leaves now, at least, not without leaving a large part of themselves behind…"
Pot's voice returned with barely a whisper. "Then… is she…"
Hitrit cut her off coldly. "Death would be the best outcome. Pray that's how she ended. You have no idea what happens to deserters in that family."
Pot's face went pale.
Her lips trembled.
She had dreamed for many years about finding her family again, but now, that dream was shattered like a piece of glass.
"Then… what should we do?" she asked in a small voice.
"Nothing," Hitrit said flatly. "Don't even touch the Tibon Family. You'll only regret it."
The room fell silent.
Hitrit studied them both.
He could feel the defiance still burning in their hearts, that unwillingness to let go of their past. These children wouldn't give up until they saw the coffin, and perhaps, literally…
He sighed quietly and turned away. "Focus on yourselves. When you're strong enough, I'll tell you more about that family."
"I understand, Master," Pen said quickly, lowering his head with a bow.
"Good. Then go back and practice. I'll call for you later."
"Yes, Master Hitrit," they said in unison.
The two left, their steps echoing through the long hall.
Hitrit watched them go.
It seemed that Pen understood, at least partially, but Pot… her silence worried him.
He could already see it…
That look in her eyes.
The Tibon family's bloodline would never let go. Over the years, he had learned that no matter who escaped, they would always be drawn back by some quirk of fate.
He knew in his heart that the Tibon Family was far more dangerous than what was seen on the surface.
-
Hitrit stood alone in the quiet room after they left, the echo of their footsteps slowly fading into the depths of the tower.
He leaned back against the table, his hands resting on its cold surface.
For a long time, he said nothing.
The faint light of the Black Tower's walls pulsed through the room, washing the black stone floor with waves of pale blue light. Shadows shifted across his face, outlining the sharp lines of the man who had seen too much.
He exhaled slowly.
"Children of that bloodline…" he muttered under his breath.
"They are always so unlucky."
There was no hatred in his voice, only exhaustion.
The Tibon Family, even after all these years, that name still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He didn't hate them, he just…
That family that liked to play with souls, twisting them as if they were mere coins, who dissected life and death like toys, who smiled as they tore open their own children in the pursuit of perfection.
They were monsters, but they didn't have a choice.
He clenched his fists.
He remembered the underground halls, the scent of flesh and decay, the cold and emotionless laughter that echoed through the white corridors.
He remembered the experiments, the screams, and the lives that were cut short.
He remembered the day he ran.
The night when the lower laboratories burst open and burned, when the family turned against itself, when the monster's existence flared up, when the ensuing chaos gave him the only chance he would ever get to escape.
He remembered it all.
He ran until his body broke, until the swamp air stung his lungs, until his eyes were bordering on the edge of blindness, and when he received that final burst of endurance unlike anything he had experienced before.
There was a long period of chaos, but…
After that night came to a close, the Black Tower found him.
No, perhaps… he thought bitterly, the tower had simply been waiting.
Even now, the Black Towers quiet hum reminded him of those old laboratories, clean, precise, and silent places that would eventually be filled with blood curdling cries and unspeakable atrocities. Here, at least, there was order. There was purpose, and none of the experiments were done simply for the sake of testing an unfinished theory.
He looked toward the door where Pen and Pot had gone, his sharp eyes softening slightly.
"They'll chase the truth someday," he said quietly. "They always do, there's no avoiding it. I just hope that they can avoid the worst-case scenario."
He sighed.
He raised a hand to his nose, pinching lightly as he mumbled. "And when they do… it'll all begin again, a new generation of unlucky souls that will eventually be drawn into darkness."
The crystal light dimmed, leaving only his shadow against the black wall, cast from the window light.
Hitrit closed his eyes and whispered to the empty room, "Curse the Tibon bloodline… and damn me for surviving it. It's really, not fair…"
There was quiet
"Ashshel, I miss you…"
* * *
The Dark Swamp.
Throughout the western region, few places had suffered quite as severely as the Dark Swamp had.
What had once been an endless stretch of black water, thick mud, and ancient wetlands was now fractured far beyond recognition.
The swamp was no longer a single region. It had shattered into thousands of smaller islands, each one drifting apart like the shards of a broken mirror. Some were only a few dozen kilometers wide, while others stretched for hundreds. Massive roots, thick enough to rival city streets, now bridged the gaps between each island. They rose and sank like sleeping serpents, weaving through the fractured landscapes, and stitching the continental plates into something that barely held together.
Between every island was a bottomless abyss, forming a sheer drop into the unknown.
The air hung heavy with humidity and poisonous miasma.
Mist clung to every surface, and an acidic tang stung the nose.
Even the creatures that once ruled here seemed to be subdued.
They hid beneath the stagnant pools of black water, watching quietly, as if afraid of whatever now ruled the shattered landscape.
It was a place barely alive, held together only by the lingering will of the thing that had destroyed it.
* * *
Petra swaggered across the blackened marsh, crossing one of the massive bridge-like roots that connected two of the large islands.
Petra was in a good mood.
She had just received word that both Mousa and Raina were fine. The message about Mousa came from the man who was with Little Lux, while news about Raina came from one of the hidden ants that were scouting the Dark Swamp.
For the first time in a while, Petra felt a weight lift off her shoulders.
Although it was only a small one, it was still nice to know that the big auntie was fine.
Her attention was fixed on her next destination. She needed to reach one of the outer islands of the Dark Swamp Archipelago, a narrow fragment of land on the southern edge of the shattered swampland. Rumor has it that survivors, explorers, and some research groups had begun to gather there.
Unlike the rest of the region, this island had remained completely untouched by the great change, and that alone drew countless eyes. Some came chasing safety, while others came seeking answers.
Petra needed to pass through it regardless of the truth, because it was the only path that led towards Rose's homeland.
-
The Ant swaggered through the swamp, each step sending soft ripples across the shallow swampland. Due to its small size, the water that would usually only submerge the feet had reached all the way up her legs.
She passed through what had recently been a thriving outpost, now reduced to an overgrown camp buried under the wild roots and swamp water.
She saw rescue teams trudging through the mud, their armor corroded by the poison.
She saw virtuous heroes, desperately carrying survivors wrapped in damp cloth on their backs.
And she passed countless strange shadows that shifted just beyond the surface of the water, strange things that watched but never approached.
At times, the waves rolled apart just enough to reveal the corpses beneath. The massive beasts that once ruled this swamp now floated half-submerged in the black water, scattered and slumped like forgotten mountains. Their bodies had begun to rot into sludge, skin peeling away, scales melting into the poison-soaked tide.
Toxic mists leaked from them in long, pale ribbons that were lifted by the wind and thrown across the broken landscape towards the travellers.
The durability of her avatars had to keep up with her mental strength, so it was naturally designed to be very resistant. Considering the many items that were added to each avatar, including the special feathers she 'found' in Imai, it was understandable that her physical durability was a bit unreasonable.
Petra pressed on...
-
The days of traveling blurred together as she moved.
As time passed and the days ended one after another, the sun slowly faded into a rumor behind the continuously thickening clouds.
Each day left the western region with slightly more darkness.
The only constant was the sound of Petra's steps, and the quiet snaps of distant lightning that echoed from the far sky in the west.
Finally, after crossing one last bridge of bundled roots wide enough for several carriages to pass side by side, Petra reached her destination.
The root bridge descended into a flat clearing surrounded by crooked trees and broken stones.
A few kilometers ahead was a slightly more vibrant area. There, resting on the first solid ground Petra had seen in days, stood a sprawling series of tents, fortifications, and watchtowers built from scavenged materials that had been taken from the nearby forest.
Looking closely, it was almost like a small city.
Petra hopped off the end of the large root and began to approach.
Faint lanterns glowed through the darkness, while the smell of smoke and food hung in the air. Soldiers, researchers, and mercenaries moved around the distant camp with a messy precision, looking more professional than the average team.
Petra stopped at the edge of the clearing and tilted her head.
From the side, she could see a young man approaching her.
This man, of course, she recognized.
If it were possible, the little ant adventurer would crack a wide smile.
Petra watched as Arthur walked up, slightly confused.
It would seem that he already suspected her.