The storm lasted all night.
Even deep in the cavern, Eion could feel it—mana vibrating through the stone like the heartbeat of a buried god. Each pulse sent a ripple of light across the cavern walls, painting him in shifting greens and blues. The air itself hummed, charged enough to raise gooseflesh along the seams of his hybrid skin.
He sat near the entrance, knees drawn up, watching the flashes outside. His Core resonated faintly with each pulse of lightning. The feeling wasn't pain, but kinship—like a tuning fork vibrating in response to a distant note. The System stayed silent, though the faint glow of its interface danced across his vision, alive but unreadable.
He didn't sleep. He wasn't sure he could.
When the first pale rays of morning pushed through the lingering haze, the storm's fury had passed. Outside, the forest glistened like a dream crystallized. Every blade of grass, every leaf, was dusted with frost that wasn't cold. The air shimmered, filled with a faint, ringing stillness.
Eion stepped into the dawn. His feet crunched through thin layers of mana-glass coating the earth. The forest had changed overnight. Trees leaned at unnatural angles, their bark turned translucent where lightning had struck. Pools of glowing liquid mana formed in shallow hollows, reflecting a sky too bright for dawn.
[Environmental Shift Detected]
[Mana Field: Saturated]
[Caution: Unstable Entities Present]
"Yeah," he whispered, "I can see that."
Something nearby crackled. A rabbit—or what had been one—twitched on the ground. Its fur was crystalline, its body half solid, half vapor. Each movement sent flakes of light scattering like dust. It turned its head toward him, eyes glowing faintly green.
Eion froze.
The creature shuddered once and collapsed into a puddle of glittering mana, dissolving silently. Only the echo of its death remained—a faint note in the air that resonated against his Core.
The world was beautiful and utterly broken.
He crouched to study the remnants, fingers hovering just above the luminous residue. The System flickered in response, projecting faint readings.
[Residual Core Energy Detected]
[Category: Wild Construct Mutation]
[Assimilation Not Recommended – Instability 91%]
"Noted." He stood. "No radioactive rabbit stew today."
The silence pressed close again. Even the wind seemed to avoid this part of the forest.
He started walking, following faint animal tracks that hadn't yet crystallized. The canopy ahead bent low, branches thick with frost-light. When one brushed his arm, his Core pulsed softly, absorbing a trace of mana.
[Passive Regen +1%]
So the world itself could feed him. That was… useful. And deeply unsettling.
As he moved deeper into the transformed woods, faint whispers echoed—a sound just at the edge of hearing. Sometimes it was wind. Sometimes it wasn't.
Then, a new sound: movement. Soft, deliberate.
He turned, claws half-extended. "I know you're there."
Silence. Then, a click—like stones knocking together—and another, from a different direction.
Eion dropped into a crouch. His senses stretched outward, reading faint heat signatures through mana-saturated air. Shapes flickered between the trees, small and quick. Not beasts—too organized.
He spoke louder. "If you're friendly, I'm not here to fight. If you're not, I will win."
Another rustle. Then a high-pitched voice, hesitant and strange:
"Shhh… bright one hears. Bright one talks."
Eion froze. "...You can speak?"
Two figures stepped into the half-light. They were small—barely up to his chest—thin-limbed and covered in mottled green-gray skin that blended perfectly with the foliage. Eyes large and amber, gleaming with wary intelligence.
Grinlings. He didn't know how he knew the word, but the System confirmed it.
[Race Identified: Grinling (Forest Subrace)]
[Disposition: Cautious / Neutral]
One carried a spear tipped with sharpened bone. The other clutched a net woven from vines that pulsed faintly with mana. Their posture wasn't openly hostile, but every muscle in their bodies screamed tension.
Eion raised his hands slowly. "Easy. I'm not going to hurt you."
The taller one—eyes slightly darker, a scar running across its snout—tilted its head. "Bright one hunts alone. Smells… strange. Not beast. Not man."
"Yeah," he said. "That's about right."
The smaller Grinling circled warily, sniffing. "Storm changed the woods. Trees whisper of metal and fire. Bright one walks after thunder."
Eion blinked. "The trees whisper?"
Both hissed softly, heads jerking toward him. The larger one whispered something in its own tongue—sharp consonants, liquid vowels. The System's translation lagged a moment before catching up:
[Translation: "He does not hear them. He is new-born."]
"New-born," Eion repeated quietly. "I guess that's one way to put it."
The Grinlings conferred in low voices before the leader finally nodded. "You follow. Shaman will speak. Decide if you live."
He considered his options. The forest was strange, the air toxic with mana, and he was still low on food and context. If these creatures had a settlement—shelter, maybe even information—it was worth the risk.
"Lead the way."
They moved fast, darting through the underbrush with inhuman agility. Eion followed, careful to match their pace without making noise. The path wound through crystalline groves and streams of glowing water.
After an hour, the forest opened into a hollow encircled by living trees. Huts made of woven roots and bioluminescent moss nestled against the walls. Dozens of Grinlings watched him from the shadows, silent and wide-eyed.
At the center stood a stone altar carved with spirals—the same kind of patterns he'd seen on the lab's walls.
[Architectural Match: 78% – Source: Project CHIMERA Subdesign]
Eion's chest tightened. The lab's mark. Here, too.
A figure emerged from the largest hut—a Grinling wrapped in silver-threaded leaves, eyes white and unfocused. The others bowed slightly as it passed.
"The shaman," murmured his guide.
The elder approached, stopping just beyond reach. When it spoke, its voice layered over itself—one tone natural, another echoing in the air like the System's mechanical timbre.
"Child of the Broken Maker," it said. "You wake after long silence. The forest remembers your kind."
Eion's throat went dry. "My kind?"
The shaman's blank eyes turned upward. "Born of many. Flesh woven from fear. But heart… new."
It reached out one clawed hand and touched the air before his chest. His Core pulsed in answer, glowing faintly through his skin. The entire tribe flinched.
"Yes," the shaman whispered. "Still living. Still learning."
The System stirred for the first time since the storm.
[Social Discovery: Intelligent Species – Grinlings]
[Quest Unlocked: Echoes of Creation]
[Objective: Learn of the Maker's Mark]
Eion stared at the text, then at the shaman. "You said the forest remembers us. What did it remember?"
The shaman smiled—a slow, eerie stretch of lips over small teeth. "It remembers when the sky fell. When the Makers played god and the world broke open. It remembers your mother's hands."
And the air around them shivered.