As the days passed, the whispers of the Shadow Host drifted through the Forgotten Plains, their voices fractured and fleeting.
"He's back," one voice murmured, barely audible over the hum of the chaotic winds.
"The Dreaded Beast has returned."
Another whispered, "They say he's never lost a fight… except once. And even then… he was spared."
The fragmented conversations reached Thales, their weight growing heavier with each mention.
Wolfgang Kael. A name spoken with a mixture of awe and fear, looming like a shadow over the Plains.
In the quiet moments, Sima Carlyle's words came back to him:
"Kael may be a beast, but even beasts have their uses."
Even Velara Nost, during one of her rare philosophical musings, had alluded to the man:
"Strength without chaos is just another form of stagnation," she had said, her tone contemplative.
"Kael, for all his prowess, teeters on the edge of both."
The tension grew, each whisper and passing remark building toward an inevitable collision.
The air in the Forgotten Plains shifted—subtly at first. A low hum vibrated through the ashen ground.
Then it grew sharper. Heavier. As if the very fabric of the world was bracing for impact.
Thales's Umwelt flickered in warning, a ripple of unease coursing through him.
From the distance, a figure emerged.
The boy had a wicked smile. He wore no mask—unlike many of the Legion—and his hulking aura leaked out like smoke from the shadowy fur coat that draped his lean frame. His bloodshot eyes glowed like comets, brilliant and unrelenting. And his raven-black hair—short yet soft with an almost girlish sheen—gave him an androgynous air that could confuse anyone not paying close attention.
Wolfgang Kael. The Dreaded Beast.
He walked through the desolation like he owned it. Each step seemed to absorb the chaos around him, the ground beneath him crackling faintly under the weight of his presence.
"Well, well," Kael drawled, voice low and mocking as he took in the scene.
"The Kaiser's favorite boy, standing in the ruins of his success. Or should I say… failure?"
Thales straightened, his Umwelt flaring faintly as Kael's gaze locked onto him.
"The stronghold is gone," he replied evenly.
"The mission was a success."
Kael chuckled—a sound that seemed to ripple through the air like a distant storm.
"Gone, sure. But the Mnemonics aren't as dead as they should be, are they?" His smile widened, sharp and predatory.
"Loose ends, Miray. They'll choke you if you're not careful."
Thales didn't flinch under Kael's gaze, but the weight of the Dreaded Beast's presence was undeniable.
"And what about you?" he asked.
"Why are you here?"
Kael's smile turned cold, his eyes gleaming like crimson fire.
"The Kaiser sent me, of course. He wanted me to… observe."
His tone darkened.
"To see if you're worth the sigil you bear—or if you're just another name Mara needs to erase."
The silence between them lingered as they moved across the fractured expanse of the Forgotten Plains.
The terrain shifted with each step—ashen dunes dissolving into jagged ridges, then collapsing into chaotic rifts of flickering memory streams. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to grow heavier in Kael's presence, the weight of his aura pressing against the fragile balance of the land.
Thales kept his distance, his Umwelt sparking faintly in warning every time Kael glanced back at him. The Dreaded Beast's movements were unnervingly fluid, his coat trailing like smoke in the restless wind. Each step he took seemed deliberate—as though the chaotic paths of the Plains bowed to his will.
Kael broke the silence with his signature drawl.
"You're quieter than I expected, Miray. I figured the Kaiser's pet project would have more bite."
Thales met his gaze briefly, voice measured.
"I'm here to follow orders. Not to entertain you."
Kael's laugh was sharp, almost feral.
"Orders. Right. Let me tell you something, runt. Orders are just another leash. The strong don't need them—they make their own rules."
His bloodshot eyes glinted, the glow of a distant comet burning through the haze.
"But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that."
Thales ignored the jab, his Umwelt flickering as he scanned the shifting horizon. The faint remnants of Mnemonic energy lingered in the air, like the fading embers of a once-roaring fire.
His thoughts returned to Eryan—and the choices he'd made at the stronghold.
Loose ends, Kael had said.
The words lingered, gnawing at him.
"You've been here before," Thales said suddenly, breaking the silence.
His voice was even, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.
"The Plains. The Legion. All of it."
Kael smirked, his steps slowing slightly.
"More than you can imagine, runt. This place… it's a crucible. Breaks you down, burns away the weakness. If you survive, you come out sharper. Meaner."
He tilted his head, his gaze piercing.
"Maybe even something worth remembering."
"And you?" Thales asked, his voice cutting through the tension.
"What did it make you?"
Kael stopped abruptly, turning to face him.
His wicked smile faded—replaced by something colder. Harder.
"A beast. That's all anyone ever wanted. That's all anyone ever sees."
His crimson eyes narrowed.
"But don't mistake me for one of Mara's shadows or Velara's playthings. A beast chooses its prey. A beast decides when to strike."
The air grew heavier. The hum of chaotic energy rose faintly.
Thales held his ground, his Umwelt sparking in defiance of the weight pressing against him.
"And what happens when the beast becomes the prey?"
Kael's laugh was quieter this time. Darker.
"If that ever happens, Miray, I'll show them why they made a mistake."
The tension lingered, then broke as Kael turned and continued walking. Thales followed.
His thoughts were a storm.
Kael's philosophy was raw, unfiltered—and disturbingly resonant.
As they moved deeper into the Plains, the terrain grew more volatile. The fractures in the land widened into chaotic rifts. The faint glow of memory streams illuminated the horizon, casting eerie shadows across the desolation.
Kael slowed.
"Looks like we've got company," he said, gesturing toward the flickering shapes moving in the distance.
Thales's Umwelt flared. The sigil on his chest burned faintly.
The shadows resolved into figures—Mnemonic operatives, their glowing robes interwoven with fragments of preserved history. They moved with purpose. Their cultivation radiated defiance.
Kael's grin widened, his hands flexing at his sides.
"Let's see what you've got, Miray. Time to show me if the Kaiser's pet project can hunt."
Thales didn't respond.
He stepped forward, his Umwelt sparking as he prepared for what was to come.
The shadows of the Mnemonics loomed closer—each step they took a reminder of the choices he'd already made… and the ones he had yet to face.
The Forgotten Plains were unforgiving. And Kael—watching with that ever-present, predatory intensity—promised no reprieve.
The Mnemonic operatives moved as one, their robes shimmering with fragments of memory that pulsed in defiance of the chaos around them. The Plains themselves seemed to resist their presence, the ground fracturing and shifting beneath their feet.
Thales's Umwelt flared again, registering their cultivation—defensive, deliberate, and precise.
Kael's chaotic aura pulsed outward in waves, leaking raw, unrefined force.
"They don't know when to quit," he said with quiet amusement.
"I almost admire it. Almost."
Thales stepped closer, drawing a steady breath. The sigil on his chest pulsed in rhythm with the chaotic rifts around him. He didn't answer Kael—his attention locked on the Mnemonics. He could feel it now: their cultivation weaving together in a fragile lattice, like a spiderweb stretched thin across a storm.
They weren't here to fight.
They were protecting something.
"Miray," Kael said, his voice sharper now.
"This isn't the time to hesitate. Show me what you've got."
Thales ignored him.
He activated Temporal Perception, slowing the currents of chaos surrounding them. The Mnemonics' movements became clearer. Their techniques were not offensive—each gesture was part of a larger formation.
They were shielding something hidden deeper within the Plains.
What are they protecting…? Thales thought, his Umwelt pulsing with insight.
He could see it now: desperation behind their rhythm, their fragments burning faster than they could replenish. These weren't soldiers. These were archivists. Preservers.
Like Eryan.
Kael's laugh shattered the stillness.
It cut through Thales's thoughts like a blade.
"If you're not going to move, I will."
In a blur, Kael lunged.
His coat snapped behind him like a broken banner. His aura crashed forward like a tidal wave. With a brutal strike, he shattered the Mnemonics' outer barrier—sending them reeling, their cultivation flickering.
Thales clenched his fists.
His Umwelt erupted, snapping into full force.
He activated Temporal Rift Navigation, stepping into the chaotic flows and redirecting them—around the Mnemonics, instead of through them.
The ground shifted violently beneath Kael's next strike, the redirected energy absorbing the brunt of the impact.
Kael halted. His bloodshot eyes narrowed.
"Interesting trick, bitch."
His grin returned, venomous.
"You trying to help them?"
"They're no threat," Thales said, voice controlled.
His Umwelt flared brighter.
"We don't need to waste time here."
Kael's expression twisted, sharper than ever.
"Weakness doesn't deserve mercy. If you think otherwise, you're in the wrong place."
Thales didn't flinch. His focus stayed on the Mnemonics—still staggering but not fleeing. Their robes glowed faintly with the last shreds of preserved memory. Something hidden deeper. Something they were guarding with their lives.
Kael moved again—chaotic energy erupting around him. His body tensed for the next strike.
Thales's Umwelt pulsed in warning.
Then—
"Enough."
Velara Nost stepped into view.
Her fragmented robe shimmered with authority. The chaotic winds stilled around her, the Plains themselves responding to her will.
She raised a single hand. Her voice, calm but final, carried weight:
"We're here for the outpost. Not for scraps."
Kael halted mid-motion.
His smirk faltered into a sneer.
"They're in the way."
"And yet," Velara replied, her veil glowing faintly,
"they're still breathing. Move on."
Kael's crimson eyes lingered on Thales for a moment longer. He slowly lowered his arms.
"Fine," he muttered.
"But don't say I didn't warn you."
Velara turned her attention to Thales. Her fragmented symbols flickered with unreadable intention.
"You're lucky his leash is short, Miray. Don't make me question why the Kaiser keeps you alive."
Thales inclined his head slightly.
His Umwelt dimmed, suppressing the tension roaring inside him.
The Mnemonics were still standing—for now.
He could only hope his interference had bought them enough time.
As the Legion moved deeper into the Plains, Thales cast one final glance back.
One of the Mnemonics, likely their leader, met his gaze across the wreckage. No words. Just a nod.
A silent acknowledgment. And a shared understanding.
The distance consumed them soon after.
The Forgotten Plains were far from finished with him.
And neither was Kael.