The first roar split the forest like a crack in the world. Leaves burst into glowing motes as trees swayed under the approach of something large and very, very angry.

Thorne didn't retreat. He could feel them long before they appeared, like storms in motion, their aether signatures flaring hot against the tapestry of the woods. Dozens of them. Some small and swift, some colossal. All hungry.

Levels flickered through his mind in flashes, faint and fractured, 71, 74, 80, and higher. The largest presence pulsed like a miniature sun in his senses. 89. Maybe more.

He breathed out once, slow and calm. The aether breathed with him.

When the first beast broke the treeline, the ground went white.

It came low to the ground, a lupine mass of muscle wrapped in plates of translucent bone. Aether burned along its spine, each motion leaving a tail of golden light. The creature leapt and the world stuttered.

Thorne moved, or maybe he didn't. It was hard to tell. The threads around him simply shifted. Space bent.

The beast hit an invisible current and exploded mid-air, torn apart by raw compression. The shockwave rippled outward, bending nearby trees backward.

More came, a blur of horns and fangs and wings, and Thorne raised a hand, not to strike but to allow.

Aether flowed through him in ribbons, each one choosing its own path, every current alive. He didn't shape them anymore; they shaped themselves through him. Each thread struck like a thought made manifest, lances, arcs, curved slices of light carving through flesh and armor alike.

The sky blazed.

When he pivoted, the ground followed, lifting in waves of molten soil. When he blinked, the air compressed into spears. It was effortless. Terrifyingly effortless.

He felt every movement of the forest, every vibration. The information poured into him naturally now, names, densities, fragments of knowing that slipped between thoughts.

Aether Beast: Hollowfang (Lv. 76) Bone density: adaptable. Digestive sac doubles as secondary core. Weakness: pulse disruption.

Sky Reaver: Lv. 83. Wings lined with conductive veins. Breath weapon: sonic pulse.

The details weren't printed anywhere. They just were, carried through the aether, whispered into his mind by the threads themselves.

He ducked under a slash of talons, twisted his wrist, and let a dozen of those threads coil outward. The air shimmered, then burst outward in a shockwave of colorless light. Aether caught flame from friction, and five beasts vanished in the resulting brilliance.

The rest howled but didn't stop. They couldn't. The pull of his presence, his sheer density of power, was intoxicating to them. Predators drawn to a greater predator.

Thorne took another breath. The aether followed, thickening, swirling.

The fight shifted. The beasts began to coordinate, forming a loose ring around him. The smaller ones darted through shadows, the larger ones charged head-on.

Fine. He wanted to see what he could do.

He dropped one hand toward the ground. The aether obeyed, sinking into the soil like dye into cloth. The next instant the entire clearing erupted upward, roots snapping, light surging, pressure detonating in concentric rings. The forest screamed as shockwaves tore through trunks and stone alike.

When the radiance faded, half the pack was gone. The survivors circled warily, glowing blood dripping into the steaming earth.

He could feel his body humming, vibrating with the same frequency as the forest. The light under his skin pulsed brighter with every strike. Veins stood out in blue-white lines across his arms, hands faintly translucent from within. He barely noticed.

Another wave of movement, Level 90, large, fast.

Thorne turned just as the new beast broke through the smoke, a titan of horns and carapace, its entire body covered in crystalline armor that glowed with internal heat. It roared, and the pressure hit him like a hammer.

He grinned despite himself.

"Let's see how you handle this."

He spread both arms wide. The threads responded, thousands of them, pulling in from every direction, sky, ground, roots, even the distant rivers of power far beneath the forest floor. They converged, forming a sphere of condensed light above him.

The air screamed.

He dropped his hand, and the sphere imploded downward.

The explosion was silent, then deafening, raw aether flattening everything in a radius of fifty meters. Dust turned to glass. The beast disintegrated before it even hit the ground.

Thorne stood in the center of the blast zone, eyes reflecting the storm he'd unleashed.

The remaining creatures backed away, growling low but unwilling to flee. The instinct to run warred with the pull of his aura.

He could feel the next surge building inside him, unbidden. The aether wanted out. It rushed through his veins like wildfire, faster than before. His fingers trembled slightly from the pressure. Lines of light raced up his forearms, disappearing under his sleeves, tracing the rhythm of his heartbeat.

He flexed his hand. The glow flared and subsided.

Not now.

He took a slow step forward, and the forest shifted with him. Aether dust drifted down from the canopy like glowing snow. The last three beasts lunged together in desperation.

Thorne raised his hand, and the world bent around the motion.

For an instant, the forest went silent again, suspended, frozen, then erupted into motion: light, noise, and dissolution. When it cleared, he was alone, standing in a wasteland of glass and molten soil.

He exhaled slowly, the sound rough in his throat. The forest's glow dimmed around him, as though holding its breath.

He could feel the current still pouring through him, relentless. The aether wouldn't stop flowing; it didn't recognize the battle as finished.

The veins in his hands still glowed faintly, light seeping from under his skin like cracks in a lantern. It wasn't pain, not yet, just an unfamiliar weight, a fullness that had no release.

Thorne lifted his head toward the canopy where distant lights still flickered, new presences approaching, cautious, circling.

The hunt wasn't over.

And for the first time, the thought didn't thrill him.

It simply was.

He rolled his shoulders, the faint hum of power still coursing under his skin, and stepped forward into the shimmering dark.

The forest had gone eerily still. Even the wind refused to move.

Thorne stood among the ruins of his own making, the cratered expanse glowing faintly, molten in places, steam rising where the forest's lifeblood still bled aether into the air. Around him lay the ashes of a dozen lesser beasts, their essence already dissolving back into the ground.

And yet the forest was not quiet.

Something was coming.

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He could feel them before they arrived, immense, ancient, deliberate. The aether itself shifted in response, the air thickening like storm clouds gathering before lightning. Three signatures, distant but growing.

Even without numbers, he knew.

Level one hundred. And above.

For the first time since his ascension, a flicker of fear threaded through his excitement, small, electric, almost welcome. His pulse quickened. His mouth went dry. He could taste the energy of their approach on the air like the scent of ozone before thunder.

Incoming presences detected: Tier-4 Aether Beasts.

The fragments of data weren't written words; they were understanding, filtering through his new sense like instincts resurfacing from some ancient memory.

These weren't wild anomalies like the earlier ones. They were the forest's apex predators, Evolved Beasts, the Kings of their kind. Each was a complete aetheric ecosystem, shaped by centuries of survival inside the most saturated zone of Evermist's border.

The first to appear was sound, a rhythmic thud that shook leaves from the canopy. The ground quivered as something massive forced its way through the trees.

It stepped into view, and Thorne's breath caught.

A Vine-Tyrant, thirty meters long, part reptile and part strangling root. Scales of obsidian laced with green luminescence covered its body, while its tail ended in a bundle of tendrils that pulsed like a heart. Aether ran visibly beneath its translucent hide. Each breath exhaled mist that solidified into thorned vines before dissolving.

Level 104.

A second presence descended from above, silent at first, then sudden. Wings eclipsed the stars, scattering dust like snowfall. The Sky Reaver Monarch, cousin to the lesser reavers he'd slain earlier, hovered overhead. Feathers of metallic light shifted constantly, its beak a jagged blade that vibrated with sonic resonance.

Level 102.

The last arrived on all fours, the forest parting for its bulk, a Crag-Horned Behemoth, a creature of stone and storm. Its back was a mountain of jagged plates that sparked with arcs of latent lightning. Every step it took left footprints of glowing crystal.

Level 106.

Three titans.

The aether trembled between them and him, the air itself refusing to choose allegiance.

Thorne's fingers twitched. His instincts screamed at him to retreat. His blood sang in pure exhilaration.

"Alright," he whispered. "Let's see what Tier-4 means."

The Vine-Tyrant struck first, its tendrils lashing outward like whips. Thorne reacted instantly, the threads around him snapping into motion. The air folded; he vanished sideways in a blur of blue light, reappearing ten meters to the left as the tendrils smashed into the ground where he'd stood, splintering stone.

He drew a line through the air with his hand, and an Aether Lance tore forward, a narrow beam that sliced through the vines, cauterizing the edges. The Tyrant roared, the sound vibrating through his bones, and a burst of spores ignited midair, forming dozens of smaller tendrils that darted toward him like arrows.

Thorne threw his palm out. Aether burst outward in a sweeping arc, condensing into a barrier of kinetic flow. The tendrils struck it and vaporized, the impact pushing him backward several steps.

The Sky Reaver Monarch shrieked from above. The air cracked, not from sound, but from vibration. Thorne's hair lifted from his forehead as the shockwave hit, slicing across the clearing in concentric rings.

He dove forward, rolling as trees behind him splintered. His Veil Sense flared, information snapping into clarity mid-motion.

Sky Reaver Monarch: Tier 4.

Sonic frequency weaponized. Generates resonance with aether currents to destabilize matter. Vulnerable to harmonic interference.

He reached upward with both hands. Threads obeyed, weaving together into two spirals of condensed air and light. He twisted them counter to each other and clapped.

The resulting blast sang.

The air howled as two frequencies collided. The Monarch screamed in pain, wings faltering. Its descent was abrupt, feathers exploding into shrapnel that carved glowing scars into the earth.

The Crag-Horned Behemoth charged through the chaos, its roar a thunderclap. Static filled the air; lightning veins spidered across its armor.

Thorne turned, raising both arms. The aether poured through him, effortless, joyful. Dozens of lances formed mid-air and fired in rapid succession. Each one struck and ricocheted harmlessly off the creature's armor. The Behemoth lowered its head and rammed.

Impact.

Thorne's barrier shattered. The world became motion and noise as he was hurled backward through a stand of trees. He hit the ground, skidding through molten dirt, smoke filling his mouth.

His arms trembled from the recoil. Every vein under his skin glowed white, energy surging faster now, uncomfortably hot. The threads didn't wait for his command anymore, they anticipated it.

He rose slowly, wiping blood from his mouth, grinning through the sting. "Alright then. Let's push harder."

He spread his hands and pulled.

The forest answered.

Every mote of free aether in a hundred-meter radius rushed toward him, condensing around his body until the air itself became liquid light. The ground cracked underfoot from the sheer density.

The next moment was pure chaos, light and thunder, the forest itself convulsing under the force of his will.

Thorne thrust his palm forward and the world cracked open. A torrent of solidified aether erupted from his hand, white-blue and blinding, the air screaming as it vaporized. The beam tore through the clearing, slicing a canyon of molten glass straight through the forest's heart.

The Vine-Tyrant barely had time to roar before the beam consumed it. Its luminous body shattered mid-bellow, splitting apart in a wave of radiant dust that was gone before it hit the ground.

Character Level Up: 50 → 51

The notification burned across his vision and was gone. He barely noticed.

The other two Kings had survived.

The Sky Reaver Monarch screeched, its metallic wings ragged but still beating. The sonic tremor of its cry made the molten soil crack like ice. The Crag-Horned Behemoth, half its armor scorched and peeling, stamped forward through the wreckage. Sparks burst from its wounded plates, electricity crawling along its sides.

The ground trembled with every step.

Thorne steadied himself, lungs burning. Aether continued to pour through him, constant, endless. His veins glowed brighter now, light crawling up his neck and down his wrists in pulsing streams. The power felt intoxicating, limitless, and yet, beneath the exhilaration, something tightened. His body felt heavy, as though the aether were clinging to him from the inside.

He ignored it.

The Monarch dove. Its wings slashed the air, throwing blades of compressed sound that cut through branches and stone alike. Thorne flung his arm up and caught the wave, threads of aether coalescing into a curved barrier that shimmered with rippling light. The sonic energy shattered across it in a cascade of sparks.

He pivoted and unleashed a burst from his palm. Dozens of Aether Lances streaked upward like shooting stars, tearing into the creature's wing joints. Metal feathers burst apart, scattering like molten rain. The Monarch screamed, spiraling out of control, crashing into the treeline with the force of a meteor.

The Behemoth charged again, its horns glowing blinding white. The air ionized around it, lightning leaping from tree to tree. Thorne raised both hands and the forest answered, roots exploded upward, vines turning into glass-like spears that shot from the ground, slamming into the creature's chest.

It bellowed, shattering half of them with raw strength.

Resilient, his senses whispered. Armor density exceeds Tier-4 threshold. Lightning core beneath sternum. Power output, rising.

He didn't think; he reacted. He clenched his fist, and the threads wrapping around the Behemoth's horns twisted tight, pulling energy away from the creature's charge. The lightning faltered, then detonated in reverse, shocking the monster from within.

The Behemoth staggered, fell to one knee, cracks of blinding light racing across its body. But even crippled, it was far from finished.

The Monarch reappeared overhead, wounded but defiant. Its cry rolled through the canopy, shaking the branches loose.

Thorne stood between them, every muscle taut, his breath coming fast. His eyes burned with inner light, his shadow lost to the radiance pouring from his body. The threads of aether spun around him like a storm, alive and exultant.

He could feel everything, the trembling of the ground, the pulsing hearts of the beasts, even the slow hum of the forest itself watching the battle unfold. Information flooded him, a river of detail without end. Anatomy, composition, temperature, weak points, everything.

And then something else.

A soundless pulse.

It wasn't from the beasts. It wasn't from the forest.

It was human.

The data struck his mind like a shard of ice. Hidden in the chaos of readings, a faint signal, warm, familiar. His Veil Sense latched onto it, isolating it, sharpening it until the recognition hit like a physical blow.

A name almost formed on his lips.

He froze.

Human presence detected. Distance: unknown. Status: unstable. Threat proximity: extreme.

His chest tightened. That presence wasn't moving.

It was trapped.

The aether threads around him flared in confusion, mirroring his rising panic. His perception spread outward, further and further, reaching beyond the battle, sweeping across the forest in a wave of awareness.

He found it.

And just beyond that point, another light. Vast. Pulsing. Familiar in its wrongness.

The fourth King. The one he'd sensed earlier.

But it wasn't moving anymore.

It had stopped.

Right beside the human presence.

"No…" he breathed. His voice barely existed over the roar of the dying forest. "How?"

The realization hit him like the weight of the storm. His mind refused to make sense of it, the impossibility, the connection between those two signatures.

He looked up toward the horizon, eyes wide, aether dripping from his fingertips like molten glass.

"No."

The word tore out of him, raw and terrified, echoing through the silent wreckage.

The beasts hesitated, predators sensing something older, deeper, about to awaken.

The forest's breath held.

And Thorne turned toward the distant glow, every thread in the world screaming one truth through him...

Someone he knew was about to die.

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