The transition from the ruined, yet secure, perimeter of the Void Sanctum to the untamed wilderness of the Chaos Zone was not gradual. It was a violent severance of order. One moment, the air smelled of ozone and the lingering protective wards George had erected; the next, it tasted of sulfur, rot, and the metallic tang of dried blood.

Alvian stepped across the invisible boundary line, his boots crunching on soil that had been turned into a glass-like substance by errant mana storms. He paused, adjusting the collar of his [Vestments of the Void Monarch]. The legendary armor rippled like liquid smoke, eagerly drinking in the chaotic ambient mana of the zone.

Behind him, Valeria stepped out, her boots heavy on the scorched earth. She had swapped her ceremonial Vanguard plate for a more rugged, travel-worn set of chainmail and leather, though her massive claymore still rested ominously on her shoulder. Seraphina was already gone, a shadow flitting ahead among the twisted, blue-veined trees that made up the alien jungle of this new world.

"This place," Valeria murmured, her hand instinctively going to her sword hilt. "It feels wrong. Like the world is sick."

"It is," Alvian replied, his voice calm. "The Convergence is leaking. The laws of physics here are suggestions, not rules. Monsters grow faster, magic is volatile, and the weak are eaten before breakfast."

He looked at her. A smudge of soot from the Academy crash still stained her cheek, a stark contrast to her pale skin. Without thinking, he reached out, his thumb brushing the dirt away. It was a fleeting, almost unconscious gesture.

Valeria flinched slightly, not from fear, but surprise. Her grey eyes widened, locking onto his violet ones. For a second, the oppressive heat of the Chaos Zone seemed to fade.

"You missed a spot," Alvian said, dropping his hand and turning back to the path.

"Right," Valeria cleared her throat, a faint flush rising to her neck. She gripped her sword tighter, stepping closer to him than tactical spacing strictly required. "So, who is this Kincaid? You spoke of him like you knew him."

"I know his type," Alvian corrected, keeping his past life's specific knowledge close to his chest. "A petty tyrant. In the vacuum of power left by the Empire's retreat, men like him rise like scum to the surface. He calls himself the 'Golden Tyrant'. He hoards water, weapons, and people."

"Slaver?" Valeria's voice dropped an octave, the temperature around her dropping as her [Titan Bloodline] reacted to her anger.

"Worse. A collector," Alvian said. "He coats his favorites in gold. Literally."

[System Notification: New Zone Discovered - The Chaos Zone.]

[Danger Level: High (Level 40-50).]

[Environmental Hazard: Mana Storms. Random stat fluctuations may occur.]

"Inefficient," Alvian muttered, dismissing the notification. With the [Tear of the Infinite] fused to his core, mana fluctuations were irrelevant to him. He was a walking reactor.

They moved deeper into the jungle. The path was littered with the wreckage of civilization—overturned trade wagons, burnt-out mana skiffs, and the bleaching bones of those who hadn't made it to the Academy's sanctuary.

"Scouts ahead," Seraphina's voice crackled over the comms earpiece Alvian wore. "One klick north. A patrol. Six men, two ogres. They're wearing gold armbands."

"Kincaid's men," Alvian confirmed. "Valeria, you want to vent some frustration?"

Valeria cracked her knuckles, the sound like pistol shots. "I thought you'd never ask."

They intercepted the patrol in a clearing dominated by a massive, crystal-spined tree. The mercenaries looked ragged but well-armed, wielding Syndicate-surplus mana rifles. The two ogres were chained, their skin painted with gold dust, hauling a cage filled with terrified survivors—refugees from a nearby village.

"Hold it!" the lead mercenary shouted, raising his rifle. "This is Golden Territory! Pay the toll or—"

"BOOM!"

Valeria didn't let him finish. She launched herself from the brush, a silver comet crashing into the line. She didn't draw her sword. She used her shield, slamming it into the chest of the leader. The impact sent him flying back into a tree with enough force to snap the trunk.

"Ambush!"

The patrol scrambled. The ogres roared, dropping the cage chains and charging Valeria.

Alvian stepped into the clearing. He didn't run. He walked. He raised his right hand, his fingers tracing a lazy arc in the air.

"[Frost Descent +2]: Icicle Volley."

He didn't summon a storm. He summoned precision. Dozens of razor-sharp ice shards materialized in the air, humming with violet energy. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying.

"THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!"

Three mercenaries dropped, icicles protruding from their shoulders and knees. Alvian didn't kill them. He pinned them.

"Stay," Alvian commanded.

[System: Target Immobilized.]

Across the clearing, Valeria was dismantling the ogres. She ducked under a massive club swing, her movement fluid and practiced. She drove her fist into the ogre's gut, the impact rippling through its massive frame. The ogre doubled over, retching. She spun, her armored leg catching the second ogre in the temple, knocking it unconscious instantly.

It was over in ten seconds.

Seraphina materialized next to the cage, picking the lock with a dagger. The refugees inside huddled together, staring at their rescuers with wide, fearful eyes.

"You're safe," Seraphina whispered, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Go to the mountain. Look for the crater. The Void Sanctum will take you in."

Alvian walked over to the pinned mercenary leader. The man was groaning, clutching his shattered ribs.

"Where is Kincaid?" Alvian asked.

"He'll... he'll kill you," the mercenary wheezed, spitting blood. "His armor... nothing scratches it. He's invincible."

"I didn't ask for a review of his wardrobe," Alvian said, twisting his hand. The ice in the man's shoulder expanded slightly, eliciting a scream of agony. "I asked where he is."

"The Old Fort!" the man shrieked. "Ten miles west! He took over the military outpost! Please!"

Alvian dismissed the ice. "Inefficient," he muttered. He turned to the others. "We have a target."

The journey to the Old Fort took another hour. As they crested a ridge, Kincaid's base came into view. It was a fortress of concrete and steel, repurposed from an old Empire outpost. But Kincaid had made his mark. The walls were painted a garish yellow, and banners of gold silk hung from every tower. In the center of the courtyard sat a throne room that looked like it had been dipped in molten gold.

"He certainly has a theme," Seraphina noted, peering through a set of magi-binoculars. "Guards on the walls. Snipers in the towers. And a lot of mana signatures inside. At least a hundred men."

"A hundred men," Valeria tightened her ponytail, her eyes scanning the defenses. "Do we breach the gate?"

"No," Alvian said. He looked down at the fortress. He felt the familiar thrum of his mana, infinite and eager. "We knock."

He stepped out from the cover of the ridge, standing plainly in the sunlight. His black coat billowed in the wind. He raised his hand, channeling mana into his voice.

"KINCAID!"

The sound wasn't a shout. It was a shockwave. It rolled down the hill, slamming into the fortress walls, shaking the dust from the battlements. Guards scrambled, pointing weapons. Sirens began to wail.

"I AM ALVIAN OF THE VOID SANCTUM. I AM HERE TO ACCEPT YOUR SURRENDER."

A moment of silence followed, broken only by the confusion of the guards. Then, the main gates of the fortress groaned open.

A procession emerged. Soldiers in polished brass armor lined the path. And walking down the center was a man who looked like a living statue.

He was massive, easily six and a half feet tall. He wore full plate armor made of solid, gleaming gold. Not gold-plated steel. Solid gold, enchanted to be harder than diamond. He wore no helmet, revealing a scarred face and a mouth full of gold teeth. He carried a warhammer that looked heavy enough to crush a tank.

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