THE STORY CONTINUES.....
Morning revealed the truth Perkol tried to hide at night.
Refugees.
They slept in alleys, beneath collapsed watchtowers, inside temples long abandoned by their gods. Some bore swamp scars. Others wore symbols of destroyed guilds, broken kingdoms, forgotten wars.
The world was not ending.
It was shrinking.
---
The council chamber was small.
Too small for what was discussed inside.
Perkol's ruling council consisted of merchants, retired adventurers, and one noble representative sent from the capital—Lord Halvern, a thin man with sharp eyes and immaculate robes untouched by the city's decay.
He listened.
And calculated.
"The swamp has produced multiple aberrations," Halvern said. "An unknown lord. Artifacts reacting. Temporal inconsistencies."
His gaze landed on Armin.
"You are the inconsistency."
Armin met his eyes without flinching.
"I didn't start this."
Halvern smiled politely. "No. But storms don't start wars either."
---
The decision was swift.
Cruel.
Logical.
Perkol would not report K'ruthel.
Not yet.
Panic would destroy trade routes. Adventurer guilds would flood the swamp and vanish. The capital would seal borders and abandon frontier cities like Perkol entirely.
Instead, they would prepare.
Quietly.
---
Simon was offered a choice.
Stay. Train new guards. Help rebuild what little defense Perkol had left.
Or leave.
He chose to stay.
Someone had to teach these people how to survive what was coming.
Alfred made no such choice.
His wounds were too deep. His Qi channels damaged beyond full recovery. The city honored him with a medal he didn't want and a pension he would never collect.
"I'll walk," he said.
"Where?" Armin asked.
Alfred looked toward the horizon.
"Toward answers."
---
Armin was given no honor.
Only warnings.
The guildmaster spoke to him privately that night.
"There are organizations watching the swamp now," he said. "Old ones. Silent ones."
He slid a document across the table.
A symbol burned into the parchment.
A spiral.
Not the bell.
Something worse.
"They believe destiny is a resource," the guildmaster continued. "And you are… valuable."
Armin closed his eyes.
The bell rang softly.
From his heart.
---
That night, far beneath Perkol, ancient seals trembled.
And in the swamp—
K'ruthel laughed.
"Good," he murmured to the shadow beside him.
"They survived."
The shadow replied, voice like broken glass:
"So the game continues?"
K'ruthel looked toward the city.
"No," he said.
"Now it begins.
TO BE CONTINUED.......