The wilderness night is thick as ink, moonlight fractured by the rift's glow into shattered silver shards on cracked black rock. Lin Yuan and Ayla race across a stony slope, Mistveil Village's flames still burning on the horizon, a beast refusing to close its eyes. Each of Lin Yuan's steps cracks his bones, Devouring roaring within like a caged beast unleashed, thrilled yet anguished. He glances at his hands—rockskin armor glinting coldly in the moonlight, giant flesh and blood still clinging between his fingers, reeking sharply. The air smells of scorched earth; each breath recalls the village's horrors: his parents' corpses, villagers' screams, giants' roars. The memories cut like knives, tightening his chest, quickening his pace.
"This power… it hurts, but it's strong." His voice is hoarse, words dragged from his throat, laced with blood. Ayla glances back, silver hair whipping in the night wind, her scar like a lightning crack in the rift's glow. "Ancient god blood isn't a toy—it'll devour your sanity. Control it, or you'll become worse than the giants." Her warning cuts like a blade to his heart. She's seen awakeners lose control: pupils turning to abysses, tearing apart allies, devouring themselves, collapsing into writhing shadows. Her eyes gleam in the dark. She stops, grabbing his arm, "Stop. Breathe deep. Calm it, or it'll consume you." Lin Yuan obeys, chest heaving, muscles trembling under rockskin, power ebbing slightly. He looks at her gratefully, "Thanks. How do you know so much?" Ayla shrugs, "My family's dealt with the abyss for generations. Ancestral notes are full of such tales. Come, keep moving—we need a hideout by dawn."
They press on, wind whipping their clothes. Lin Yuan's mind replays the battle: the sticky feel of tearing giant skin, the mingled thrill and pain of devouring. He asks Ayla, "Is this bloodline a curse or a blessing?" She pauses, "Both. It keeps you alive but strips your humanity. Depends on how you use it." Their words echo in the night, footsteps rhythmic on stone. The rift's glow pulses like ghostfire, a constant reminder of the abyss's threat.
Suddenly, hoofbeats thunder ahead, heavy and urgent, mingled with clanking metal. A hunter band blocks their path, torchlight flickering in the mist, illuminating their leader—Kane, captain of the "Ironblood Axe," nearly two meters tall, muscles like piled rocks, a massive axe on his back stained with dark blood. His scarred face dances in the firelight like living centipedes. "Kids, where you from? Abyss beasts chasing you?" His voice booms, rattling Lin Yuan's eardrums. Kane's eyes narrow, sizing up Lin Yuan's rockskin and Ayla's blades, a grin forming, "Looks like you just crawled off a battlefield. Spill it—we might help."
Beside Kane stands a blonde archer, bow in hand, quiver empty yet exuding menace. Lia, Kane's second, has hawk-sharp eyes and a tight-lipped grimace. "Captain, don't meddle—we've got a mission." Her voice is cold, but her pupils dilate at Lin Yuan's rockskin and crimson eyes—clear signs of ancient god blood. Lia's past haunts her: at ten, her parents were burned by a Flameheart Giant; she and her brother Renn were pulled from the flames by Kane, living by the bow ever since. She pities the weak but fears strangers, dreading repeated loss. She steps forward, arrow nocked, aiming at Lin Yuan, "Speak first—are you abyss spies?" Lin Yuan shakes his head, rockskin faintly glowing, "We're survivors. Our village is gone."
Lin Yuan recounts Mistveil's tragedy, voice trembling yet steely. He describes the giants' invasion in grim detail: collapsing homes, searing heat, his parents' final moments. The hunters fall silent, torchlight reflecting on grim faces—some curse, some grip weapons tighter. Kane laughs thunderously, flames dancing wildly, slapping Lin Yuan's shoulder nearly knocking him down, "Kid, you've got guts! Join Ironblood Axe! We kill abyss beasts for fat rewards!" Lin Yuan, stunned, asks, "Why help me?" Kane grins, "We're all abyss victims. Join us—you'll learn to survive, to avenge." Ayla nods, "Could be a good chance. Think it over, kid."
Thus, Lin Yuan temporarily joins the band. Over a dozen members, each distinct: Ironarm Hank, a jovial brute, swings a hammer that shatters rock, loves drinking, laughs like thunder, and hands Lin Yuan a flask, "Kid, drink—takes the edge off!" Zoe, a cold, stunning mage in purple robes, fingers twirling black hair, eyes hiding jealous venom, glances at Lin Yuan, "Ancient god blood? Interesting, but don't drag us down." Renn, Lia's brother, a witty scout, nimble as wind, excels in traps and scouting, daggers poison-tipped at his waist, slaps Lin Yuan's back, "Welcome, rookie! I'll teach you monster ambushes." Old healer Marcus, taciturn, carries vials that save or kill, checks Lin Yuan's wounds, "Bloodline's unstable—take this." Dual-blade Vera, a silent assassin, fast as shadow, blades glinting, merely nods. Archer Colin, seasoned, arrows never miss, eyes weary, hands Lin Yuan an arrow, "Learn." Shield-bearer Barlow, tank-like with a wall-sized shield, jovial with bad jokes, raises it against the wind, "Kid, stick with me—you won't die."
The band camps in an abandoned wilderness mine, entrance fortified with boulders and stakes, campfire crackling, sparks flying. Kane trains Lin Yuan personally, "Power's not brute force—use skill." He points to a waist-high boulder. Lin Yuan inhales, Devouring roaring, rockskin enveloping him, fist smashing like a hammer—boom! The boulder shatters, debris raining, dust choking. Lia nearby looses an arrow, hitting a tree target a hundred paces away, feathers quivering. "You've got potential, but you're reckless," she says, a hint of care in her tone. Renn whistles, "Sis, you fancy the kid?" Lia blushes, Hank roars with laughter, the camp warm like family. Vera sharpens blades in a corner, Colin adjusts his quiver, Barlow practices blocks, Marcus brews potions, Zoe chants, fireballs spinning in her palm.
Between drills, Lin Yuan bonds with the band. Hank teaches him to drink—fiery liquor burns his throat, coughing tears, sparking laughter. Hank booms, "Kid, abyss-grass brew—calms the bloodline. Drink up!" Renn teaches scouting, sneaking near beast packs, teaching breath-holding in shadows, reading tracks. "Monsters have weaknesses—hit right, one-shot," he whispers. Zoe watches coldly, sneering, "Ancient god blood? Just a curse." Her jealousy stems from a decade of magic study, eclipsed by Lin Yuan's overnight awakening. She practices fireballs alone, flames dancing, eyes resentful. Marcus bandages Lin Yuan's training cuts, cool salve stopping blood instantly, "Your bloodline heals fast—don't rely on it." Vera demonstrates dual-blade techniques, blades weaving a net—Lin Yuan mimics, air whistling sharply. Colin teaches archery, "Steady breath, aim for vitals." Barlow has Lin Yuan push his shield, "Defense is offense's foundation."
Night falls, and the camp erupts in flames. The ground splits—a Flameheart Giant bursts forth, fifteen meters tall, a molten core pulsing in its chest like a heart, flames like doomsday. Heat warps the air, the campfire swallowed instantly. Hank's hammer melts to slag, dripping with sizzles; Zoe's fireballs fizzle in the heat; Renn's traps are crushed, iron spikes twisted. Kane roars, "Retreat!" but flames drive him back, his axe glowing red. Lia's arrows aim for the eyes, embedding in rockskin but burning away. Vera's blades flash, trying to close in, but heat pushes her back. Colin looses three arrows, feathers igniting. Barlow's shield glows red, blistering his skin. Marcus sprinkles potions to douse flames, but they evaporate.
Lin Yuan stands in the inferno, rockskin charred black, pain like a million needles, but he roars, charging. The giant swings, a hundred-meter fire wave turning the camp to ash. Lin Yuan leaps, dodging, flames grazing his leg, rockskin peeling, exposing flesh. Using Augustus's staff as a pivot, he vaults onto the giant's back, staff amplifying speed, tip streaking like a meteor. He tears at rockskin, layers peeling like decayed walls, blood scalding his skin, fingers blackened. The giant elbows back—Lin Yuan flips away, the strike cratering the ground, rocks flying like cannonballs, one breaking his shoulder with a crack, pain blurring his vision. He grips the giant's shoulder.
The giant spews a fire pillar—Lin Yuan tanks it, rockskin glowing red, pain warping his roar. Wounds char, meat scent filling the air, skin bubbling, but a warm surge heals him, new flesh growing, rockskin reforming, steam rising. He roars, ripping open the chest, ribs snapping like firecrackers, steaming viscera exposed. The giant thrashes, nearly throwing him—he clings to a rib, bone piercing his palm, blood trailing. The molten core pulses, heat like a tide. Lin Yuan seizes it, burning like grasping the sun, palm charring to bone, skin cracking, blood evaporating, but he holds firm. Devouring surges, wrenching the core free, lava splashing, burning through rockskin, pain convulsing him, roar beastly.
Core absorbed, pain like ten thousand arrows—Lin Yuan grows to eight meters, skin laced with flame patterns, eyes orange-red, hair blazing. His punch tears the air with a sonic boom, storm-like wind. The giant's chest explodes, lava and blood spraying a hundred meters, its roar shaking the earth as it collapses, dust storm rising, ground quaking. Lin Yuan lands, flames dancing in his palm, casually flinging a fireball like a meteor at lingering shadow wolves, their fur charring, screams echoing as they burn to ash.
Survivors cheer, Kane slapping Lin Yuan's back, staggering him, "Kid, you saved us. You're family now!" Hank drinks in celebration, Renn mimics the giant's roar, cracking everyone up. Lia privately finds Lin Yuan under moonlight, golden hair cascading, "I've seen too many die to the abyss. You have to live." She reveals more: hidden in a cellar as a child, she watched giants burn everything, fearing yet fighting fire with her bow. Grasping his hand, "Your power can change it all." Lin Yuan nods, eyes soft, "With you all, I'm not alone."
Zoe mutters in the dark, "Why does he get that power?" Her jealousy festers, hinting at betrayal. She pockets a lava shard, eyes scheming. Lin Yuan's inner struggle deepens: power brings isolation. He dreams of becoming a giant, devouring allies, waking in terror. Ayla comforts, "It's a trial—pass it, you'll be unstoppable." She teaches meditation to curb the bloodline's rampage, "Close your eyes, feel the flow, don't let it rule."
Next day, the band heads to Ironwall City. En route, shadow wolves ambush from the dark, blending into shadows, fast, venomous claws. Lia's arrows block paths, embedding in eyes, blood spraying; Hank's hammer crushes, bones snapping, fur flying; Zoe's fireballs burn, wolves rolling in agony, stench filling the air. Lin Yuan burns with flames, wolf fur charring, screams echoing. He shadow-steps to dodge, counter-tearing, claws gashing his arm, blood spraying, but devouring one boosts speed—he chases, smashing a wolf's skull, brain matter splattering. The pack scatters, leaving charred corpses and blood. The team wipes weapons, moving on.
They encounter a noble patrol led by Morris—a sinister man disguised as a beggar, eavesdropping. Lin Yuan senses conspiracy, gripping his staff, "The city's not safe either." The patrol questions them—Kane smooths it over, but Lin Yuan notes Morris's snake-like gaze. Reaching Ironwall, its walls tower, guards rigorous. Inside, lights shine, but wealth disparity glares. Lin Yuan at the gate, overlooking bustling streets, fists clenched, "This isn't the end—it's the start."
The band settles in the city, Kane taking Lin Yuan to a tavern to unwind. Smoke fills the air, hunters boasting of abyss tales. Hank raises a cup, "To your power, kid!" Renn cracks jokes, making Lia smile. Zoe sits in a corner, fingering robe runes, eyes cold. Marcus checks Lin Yuan's lingering wounds, cool potion easing pain. Vera sharpens blades, glinting in candlelight. Colin shares archery tips, Barlow cracks bad jokes, the camp familial.
Privately with Ayla, Lin Yuan discusses the bloodline, "It's hungry—I fear losing control." Ayla teaches breathing, "Imagine power as a river—guide it." Lia approaches with a wildflower, "Picked outside the city—for you." Lin Yuan takes it, scent faint, sparks kindling between them. Lia whispers, "I fear losing more." Lin Yuan embraces her, "I won't let you down."
That night, Lin Yuan dreams of his parents, waking with wet pillows. Lia guards beside him, "I know your pain." They embrace, warmth like fire. Zoe overhears, jealousy deepening. Morris spies in the shadows, conspiracy brewing.
Ironwall's class divide is stark: rich districts host lavish banquets, slums echo with hunger cries. Lin Yuan visits the poor, meeting Jack, a nimble thief with noble intel, "Lord Balen trades with the abyss." Ironfist, poor leader, allies with Lin Yuan, "We back you." The team grows—Gerr, one-armed swordsman, shares abyss lore, "Rifts have layers—deeper, deadlier."
Lin Yuan trains flame control, fireballs spinning in his palm, heat warping air. Ayla guides, "Fuse with the staff—amplify it." Runes glow, flames roaring like dragons. Hank challenges a spar—Lin Yuan's punch sends a log flying, splinters raining. Kane nods, "Kid, you're getting stronger."
A new mission: probe the rift. Lin Yuan, "I'm ready." The team plans—Kane sets tactics, Lia worries, "Be careful." Zoe smiles, "I'll help"—her smile hides schemes. Lin Yuan senses team oddities. On the city wall, he gazes at the rift's glow, like eyes summoning him. The path of vengeance unfolds.