Lightning split the sky as Jhon dashed through the twisted brambles of the Graymarch Borderlands—a liminal zone where elven forests met human wastelands and draconian warbands roamed freely. His stolen powers flared uncontrollably, a volatile mix of raw aura, mana pulses, and restless spirit essence that left scorch marks and shattered stones in his wake.Behind him, the shrill cries of the Order's hunters—armed with sect blades glowing with mana, and martial artists wielding clenched fist lightning—pressed ever closer. Jhon was far too weak to fight properly; every step felt like running through molasses. "Focus, body—please!" he pleaded, slipping on loose gravel and crashing into a thorny bush.From above, a sharp whistle pierced the storm. A lithe figure descended with the grace of wind itself—Liora Windveil, half-elf and martial sect assassin, her spirit blade slicing rain like silk. Her silver eyes narrowed as she landed before Jhon. "You led them here," she hissed, "but I'm not letting you die yet—not for reasons I don't even understand."Jhon coughed, scrabbling to his feet. "Look, I'm as confused as you are. I'm not some god reborn—I'm just... a guy who accidentally woke up in someone else's body."Liora's expression flickered with disbelief. "The 'Fallen One' made a mess of the Citadel, shattered the mana chains, and escaped. You're either lying or cursed."Before the conversation could continue, a roar split the air—a draconian warband charging to flank them. Without waiting, Liora's blade hummed, arcs of wind slicing down enemies while Jhon's aura spilled forth chaotically, catching some foes off guard."Stick close," Liora ordered, retreating through the borderlands' twisting terrain. "If you want answers, survive the next few days."As the storm raged and the borders burned, Jhon dared to wonder if, amidst broken alliances and shattered gods, he might find a place to belong—if only he could survive the misunderstandings shadowing his every step.
