August made camp that night in a grove of trees that had the courtesy to stay consistently tree-shaped.
His Foundation monitor had finally stopped its anxious green flickering and settled back to steady blue. All his body parts were properly human-shaped again, though his left arm still tingled with geometric echoes.
"Well," August said, eating dinner by firelight, "that was educational. Zone Kings are definitely on the 'things that can kill me' list."
He pulled out his journal and made notes about the encounter. Geometric attacks, reality mathematics, the way his Foundation had adapted slowly rather than instantly. Important information for future zone encounters.
"Good thing I created Arthur to be thorough," August said, reviewing Arthur's warning about harmonic weaponry. "He's clearly figured out how to deal with these things properly."
The night was surprisingly quiet.
No howling wolf-packs, no singing Forsaken choirs, no reality distortions bending space around his campsite. Just normal night sounds and the crackle of his fire.
August found the peace oddly unsettling after the chaos of the geometric zone.
"Probably the calm before the storm," he told himself. "Or maybe all the local Forsaken are hiding because Arthur cleared out their neighbors."
He checked his map, trying to figure out his route to Zone 36-B. Arthur's directions were getting more detailed as they moved deeper into dangerous territory, but they were also getting more ominous.
"Extreme biological hazards. Bring antitoxins. Recommend full hazmat protocols."
"Antitoxins," August said. "Hazmat protocols. Right. I'll just add that to my shopping list."
August was jolted awake around midnight by screaming.
Not animal screaming — human screaming. Coming from somewhere south of his campsite, echoing across the empty hills like a siren of pure terror.
August sat up, his Foundation monitor flickering green in response to… something. The screaming continued for maybe thirty seconds, then cut off abruptly.
"Well, that's not ominous at all," August said, checking his equipment.
More screaming started up, from a different direction this time. Then another voice joined it. Then another.
Within minutes, the night was full of distant screams coming from all points of the compass. Not random panic — organized screaming. Like a coordinated attack was happening across multiple locations simultaneously.
"Okay," August said, quickly packing his gear. "Time to not be here anymore."
August broke camp in record time and started moving in the pre-dawn darkness.
The screaming continued sporadically as he traveled, always distant but never far enough away for comfort. Sometimes it sounded like terror. Sometimes like rage. Sometimes like something that had once been human trying to remember how to make human sounds.
"Zone 36-B," August muttered, checking his compass. "Whatever's happening, it's between me and Zone 36-B."
His Foundation monitor maintained its steady green glow, constantly adapting to new threats that August couldn't identify. The air itself felt wrong — thick and cloying, like breathing through wet wool.
"Biological hazards," August remembered from Arthur's notes. "Right. This is probably why he recommended hazmat gear."
Dawn revealed the source of the screaming.
As August crested a hill, he could see a settlement in the valley below. Or what had been a settlement before something terrible happened to it.
The buildings were still standing, but they were wrong. Twisted into organic shapes that hurt to look at. What had once been stone and wood was now something that pulsed with veins and breathed with alien rhythms.
And the people…
"Oh," August said quietly. "That's really not good."
The Forsaken in the settlement weren't like the Sonorous Legion or even the hostile Chorus.
These had been transformed into something that was barely recognizable as having once been human. They moved in shambling groups, their bodies extended and distorted, covered in growths that might have been tumors or might have been something worse.
When they screamed, August could see that their mouths had been redesigned for purposes that definitely weren't communication.
"Biological Zone King," August realized. "This is what Arthur meant by extreme biological hazards."
His Foundation monitor was working overtime, constantly adapting to airborne toxins, mutational fields, and biological contamination that August couldn't even see.
August gave the settlement a wide berth, but he couldn't avoid it entirely.
Arthur's trail led directly through the valley, and there was no other practical route to Zone 36-B. August would have to pass within a few hundred meters of the transformed settlement if he wanted to keep following Arthur's path.
"Come on, adaptive immunity," August said, pulling his jacket up over his nose and mouth. "Don't let me down now."
He started down into the valley, moving as quietly as possible.
The Forsaken noticed him almost immediately.
The first group that spotted August didn't attack.
They just… stared. Five or six shambling figures covered in biological wrongness, watching him with eyes that had been relocated to more efficient positions on their faces.
August waved tentatively.
One of them opened what used to be its mouth and made a sound like steam escaping from a broken pipe. The others joined in, creating a chorus of mechanical hissing that made August's skin crawl.
"Okay," August said. "Not hostile, but definitely not friendly either."
He kept walking, trying to ignore the way the transformed Forsaken tracked his movement with their relocated eyes.
More groups emerged from the twisted buildings as August passed through the settlement.
None of them attacked, but they all followed. Soon August had a parade of about twenty biological horrors shambling along behind him, hissing their steam-pipe chorus and watching him with far too many eyes.
"This is deeply unsettling," August said, picking up his pace slightly.
His Foundation monitor was a solid bar of green light, adapting to biological threats faster than August could identify them. He was apparently becoming immune to mutagenic fields, toxic spores, and something his monitor labeled as "aggressive cellular reconstruction."
But immunity didn't make the situation less horrifying.
The biological Forsaken followed August all the way to the edge of the settlement.
They stopped at what appeared to be an invisible boundary, unable or unwilling to cross it. They stood there hissing their mechanical chorus and watching August with their optimally-positioned eyes as he continued toward Zone 36-B.
"Well," August said once he was safely out of their sight, "that was a new kind of nightmare."
He checked his Foundation monitor. Still solid green, but now displaying a long list of biological immunities that August really didn't want to think about too hard.
"At least now I know why Arthur needs hazmat protocols," August said. "Those things were definitely hazardous to human biology."
August found Arthur's next message carved into a boulder about an hour past the settlement:
Zone 36-B cleared. 31 Forsaken eliminated. Zone King (Biological-class) destroyed. EXTREME CONTAMINATION. Area quarantined. Recommend full sterilization protocols before proceeding. Multiple escape attempts during clearing. Some Forsaken may have fled toward Zone 37-A. - A.S.
"Some Forsaken may have fled," August read aloud. "That's… concerning."
He looked back toward the twisted settlement, then ahead toward Zone 37-A. Arthur's warning suggested that whatever biological horrors had created that nightmare might now be loose in the surrounding area.
"Good thing my Foundation makes me immune to biological hazards," August said, though he wasn't entirely sure that was true. His immunity adapted to threats he encountered, but what about threats that were specifically designed to kill people like him?
The landscape ahead was showing signs of biological contamination.
Plants that grew in impossible configurations, trees with far too many branches, grass that moved when there was no wind. The air itself felt thick with spores and genetic possibilities.
August's Foundation monitor continued its steady green glow, adapting him to new biological threats every few minutes. He was building quite an impressive collection of immunities, but each adaptation reminded him that he was walking through an environment that was actively trying to kill him.
"At least the mutant Forsaken can't leave their zone," August said. "Arthur's quarantine seems to be holding."
But as he walked deeper into the contaminated landscape, August began to notice tracks in the soft earth. Footprints that looked almost human, if humans had an extra joint in each leg and claws instead of toes.
"Escaped Forsaken," August realized. "Arthur was right. Some of them got away."
The first attack came without warning.
August was examining one of the strange footprints when something dropped out of a tree directly onto his back. Claws raked across his shoulders, and August felt something hot and acidic splash against his neck.
His Foundation adapted within seconds, making him immune to the acid and the claw attacks. But not before August got a good look at his attacker.
It had once been human, but biological transformation had given it extra limbs, modified bone structure, and glands that produced various toxic secretions. It moved with inhuman grace and attacked with predatory intelligence.
"Okay," August said, backing away from the hissing creature. "Definitely one of the escapees."
More of them emerged from the contaminated landscape.
August counted at least six biological Forsaken circling him, all showing different modifications. Extra arms, modified sensory organs, chemical weapons, enhanced bone density. Each one was a unique experiment in hostile biology.
They moved with coordinated precision, suggesting they retained enough intelligence for pack tactics.
"Right," August said, his Foundation monitor now blazing with green light. "Time for another running-away-really-fast situation."
The biological Forsaken rushed him all at once.
August's Foundation earned its keep over the next ten minutes.
The escaped Forsaken threw everything they had at him — acid, toxins, biological weapons, physical attacks, and things that August's monitor labeled as "genetic warfare." Each attack failed as August's immunity adapted in real time.
But there were six of them, and they were learning.
When acid didn't work, they tried alkaline compounds. When claws failed, they used bone spikes. When direct attacks proved useless, they started trying to trap him with organic nets and living restraints.
August ran through the contaminated landscape, dodging biological horrors and hoping his Foundation could adapt fast enough to keep him alive.
The chase ended when August stumbled into another zone boundary.
He felt the familiar sensation of reality shifting around him, and suddenly the biological Forsaken couldn't follow. They stopped at the invisible barrier, hissing and spitting and generally expressing their frustration with August's escape.
"Zone boundaries," August panted, checking his Foundation monitor. "Thank you, cosmic geography."
He was now immune to approximately forty-seven different types of biological warfare, according to his readout. That seemed like a lot, even for someone with adaptive immunity.
"I wonder how many people have ever been immune to genetic warfare," August mused. "Probably not many. Score one for protagonist advantages."
August checked his map and realized he'd accidentally stumbled into Zone 37-A.
According to Arthur's notes, this was supposed to be relatively safe — a "standard clearing operation" with "minimal special hazards." After the geometric mathematics and biological warfare, that sounded positively peaceful.
"Standard clearing operation," August said hopefully. "Maybe I'll finally get to see a zone that isn't trying to kill me in creative ways."
He shouldered his pack and started walking deeper into Zone 37-A, following Arthur's trail toward whatever counted as "minimal special hazards."
Behind him, the biological Forsaken continued their frustrated hissing at the zone boundary, apparently stuck in the contaminated landscape until someone came to deal with them properly.
"Arthur's probably going to have to come back and clean those up," August realized. "Zone clearing never really ends, does it?"
The thought was oddly sobering.
Arthur wasn't just fighting individual Zone Kings — he was managing an ongoing crisis that never stopped spreading. Every cleared zone potentially created new problems. Every escaped Forsaken became a new threat.
"No wonder he works alone," August said. "Who else would be crazy enough to sign up for this job?"
August walked on through Zone 37-A, following the trail of someone who'd been doing impossible work alone for longer than anyone should have to.
Somewhere ahead, Arthur was still working. Still clearing zones, still fighting the endless war against chaos and contamination.
"Hang on, Arthur," August said. "Your creator's coming to help. Eventually. Once I figure out how to not get killed by every Zone King I meet."
The trail stretched ahead into zones unknown, and August followed it with the determination of someone who'd created a character too stubborn to quit.
Even if that character had become something darker and more dangerous than August had ever imagined.