Scene: "When Beasts Awake"
Location: Glimmerroot Forest – Northern Sector, near the Vita Grove
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The forest blurred past Oliver as he sprinted between mossy roots and glowing brush, branches whipping across his hoodie and face. His boots skidded across wet soil and sparkling leaves.
> "Fern!!" he shouted.
He reached the elevated clearing—where the forest opened into a glowing circle of emerald grass. There, staff raised toward the sky, Fern stood still, Vita energy swirling around her like a green aurora. Vines danced around her feet. Birds perched nearby, unusually calm.
Oliver stopped, panting.
> "Fern! A land beast is coming—Sorrel said—one of the big ones!"
Fern lowered her staff slowly, turning her head toward him. Her expression: unreadable as ever. Calm, steady, not a flicker of panic.
> "I know," she said softly.
Oliver furrowed his brows, almost stumbling.
> "You... know?"
She nodded and tucked her staff behind her back.
> "There are four major beasts. Elemental colossi, bound to the cycle of nature and power fluctuations in this world. When Riven pulled in all those people—so many unstable energies at once—it was inevitable."
Oliver was stunned.
> "Wait, four?!"
> "Yes. Land, Fire, Water, and Wind. All the size of mountains. All ranked green, or even higher when agitated." Fern's voice was calm, like she was reciting weather.
Oliver was frozen in thought.
> "How do we stop something like that?"
Fern looked toward the treeline.
> "Fire," she replied simply. "Land beasts fear fire. But..." she paused. "Fire is the hardest elemental to control. It's destructive. Emotion-driven. Many who wield it... fall to it."
Oliver looked down at his own hands, flickers of blue Vita still around them.
> "...Then how do we get fire strong enough?"
Before Fern could reply—
BOOM!
Oliver's backpack shifted. With a splash of water and a pop of compressed space—Sorrel leapt from the bag, dripping water and shaking his fur out.
> "Phew! That pocket was cramped—ah—Fernsicle?"
Fern turned with wide eyes. Her stoicism cracked.
> "Sorrel?!"
The otter gasped.
> "No way—it is you!"
Fern's expression softened into a rare smile as she ran to him—barely making noise as her feet pressed the moss. She knelt down, and Sorrel jumped into her arms.
> "I thought you were still in the south wetlands."
> "And I thought you were in the Astral Gardens!"
They both chuckled and spun in place briefly. Oliver stood awkwardly nearby, stunned.
> "Wait—you two... know each other?"
Fern stood and dusted off her robes, cradling Sorrel like a fuzzy scroll.
> "Sorrel and I trained together in the Druidic exchange. He was the youngest water caster to ever pass the Sylvan Trial."
> "And Fern was the only student who made a whole glade bloom overnight." Sorrel grinned. "She was the quiet prodigy."
Oliver blinked, trying to process.
> "So... you have friends?"
Fern looked at him and tilted her head.
> "Why wouldn't I?"
Oliver scratched the back of his head.
> "You just seem so... isolated all the time."
Fern glanced up at the sky, green Vita fluttering above them like fireflies.
> "We all have roots somewhere, Oliver. Even if you don't always see them."
Oliver looked between the two—Fern with her quiet elegance, and Sorrel, cheerfully balancing on her shoulder. A strange warmth bubbled in his chest.
The land beast was coming.
But... maybe they weren't alone after all.
---
Scene: "Riven's Breaking Point"
Location: Main command shelter, Camp Sector Six – Mid July
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Stacks of hand-crafted scrolls, blinking Systematic monitors, half-empty cups of caffeinated bark tea. Maps scribbled with red ink lay scattered around the makeshift command table. The buzzing from Sector Six didn't stop—not even when the sun dipped behind the horizon and the new batch of recruits arrived carrying nothing but duffel bags and desperation.
Riven leaned against the control table, fingers pressed to his temple. His signature wooly blue hat drooped slightly from wear. A flicker of light danced on his glasses as he skimmed a glowing chart.
> "Population influx up... 2,000% in three weeks," he muttered. "No coordinated labor flow. No ration control. And Nico just set the public bath on fire trying to prank Garrick."
A holographic feed from the Sector Six plaza flicked on. Finnikin Faelwyn, draped in dramatic leaf robes, was holding a live concert—shirtless, dancing with glowing wind swirls while enchanted animals paraded in rhythm.
> "Oh come on," Riven groaned, dragging a slider on the screen to mute it.
Behind him, Goldie, the spiritual feline girl in her elegant white-gold cloak, gracefully stepped forward. She held a steaming teacup between two fingers, her long tail swishing calmly.
> "You look like a firefly doused in rain," she purred, setting the tea beside him. "They're only excited. It is their first taste of freedom."
Riven didn't respond. He was busy reading a report on a goblin uprising alliance with Patchouli's faction.
> "And we're out of tents," he muttered. "Three supply lines frozen due to Mysticoins freeze. Land beasts in the east. And now we've got an entire rogue population trying to make content for their streams."
> "Oh," Goldie said with a soft grin, "and one more thing."
> "What."
> "We've got a Hero."
Riven slowly turned his head.
> "...A what?"
> "A legitimate one," she said, tilting her head. "Registered with both the Systematic App and the High Codex. 18 years old. Hero class. Chosen by Light Elemental Vita. And apparently blessed by two Arch Lords—one of Beauty & Love, and one of Harvest."
Riven blinked.
> "What?"
Goldie continued.
> "His name is Milo Lysanthe. Bit awkward. Quiet. Walked in here in stained overalls and sandals. But everyone loves him. Already has a support party."
Riven sat down slowly.
> "You're telling me some random teenager was chosen by two divine-level beings? You know how rare that is? That's rarer than a Phoenix marriage contract."
> "Oh yes. According to the Arch Lord of Beauty's representative, he was granted an ability called "Absolute Favor.""
Goldie flicked a strand of white hair behind her ear.
"Anything he does turns out well. People smile at him. Animals follow him. He picks a rock off the ground and it turns out to be a rare relic."
Riven's mouth twitched.
> "So... we have a popular, ultra-lucky, divine-blessed teenager in our already chaotic refugee camp full of ex-employees, failed influencers, and goblin activists."
> "Pretty much."
Riven stood up, tugged on his hat, and walked to the window of the tent, watching the ever-growing crowd of Travelers beyond.
> "We're going to die."
Goldie chuckled and sipped her tea.
> "Or you'll build the next civilization, Riven. You did say you wanted to spark a revolution."
> "Not with Nico lighting fires in public and Milo forming a fanclub of enchanted turnips."
Goldie paused.
> "Turnips?"
> "I don't want to talk about it."
A new notification pinged in on Riven's communicator.
> "Patchouli: ~500 goblins now under my protection. Establishing city-state under my Tree Palace. Will need trade route. Love, Patchy 💜"
Riven threw the scroll across the room.
---
Scene fades out as thunder rumbles in the distance.
The storm isn't just overhead—it's coming from every direction.