CHAPTER 34: Ominous Contact

The journey back to Bastion was brief, but Moyo felt the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on him. The streets were alive with an uneasy energy—a mix of excitement and dread rippled through the crowds. He noted how the sentinels moved with purpose, relaying orders, positioning themselves, and keeping the city calm. Despite the looming threat, the people were holding firm, their faith in Bastion's strength unshaken.

Passing through the gates into the inner sanctum, Moyo acknowledged the saluting sentinels with a brief nod. The large, ornate doors of the palace opened before him, revealing the grand chamber within. The familiar figures of his companions were already assembled, emerging from the training chamber with weary but determined expressions. At the center of the room, Martha stood over a sprawling map of the continent, her sharp eyes scanning the shifting markers. Aje appeared intermittently at her side, whispering updates before vanishing again.

"What's happening?" Annika asked, tying her hair back as she entered the chamber.

"The system's messing with me," Moyo replied, striding toward the glowing representation of the yellow zone on the map.

"Your presence triggered a quest?" Martha asked, her tone tinged with both curiosity and concern.

"Something like that," Moyo muttered, sending the notification details to the group.

The room fell silent as everyone read the message, the gravity of its contents settling over them like a heavy fog. Aje broke the silence, shaking her head in response to their unspoken questions.

"Apologies, Lord Titan Blade," she said, her voice tinged with regret. "I do not have records or context for this specific event. It seems to be unique to your path."

Moyo sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm half tempted to handle it right now," he admitted.

Martha interrupted, pointing to the map, where an alarming number of red markers—each representing a dungeon—were rapidly appearing across the yellow zone. "While I have no doubt about your strength, we have a more immediate issue."

"Dungeons," Ayo murmured grimly.

"Exactly," Martha confirmed. "Tier 2 dungeons, and their power is increasing as they radiate out from the fortress. It's clear the crystal structure where this 'Forsaken Titan' resides is the epicenter."

Moyo drummed his fingers on the table, his mind racing. "We have a month to deal with this," he said thoughtfully.

"Perhaps," Idris added, his tone cautious, "but I suspect the longer we wait, the more dangerous the situation becomes. Whatever this Durnak is, it's not an ordinary aberrant—if it's an aberrant at all."

"Do what you must to prepare," Moyo instructed. "I'll try to figure out exactly what we're dealing with."

"How are those blueprints progressing?" Martha asked, turning to Boyle, who had just entered the chamber with a muscular man in tow.

"Feasible," Boyle replied. "The transports are straightforward enough, and we can have upgraded cannons on the walls within a week. But it all depends on how many units we're equipping."

"For the entire force? Close to a thousand," Idris estimated, already mentally organizing the logistics.

"Doable," Boyle said with a nod, "but it'll be tight."

Moyo's gaze remained fixed on the glowing markers of dungeons, which seemed to multiply every moment. A sense of urgency gnawed at him.

"Where are you going?" Annika called as Moyo turned toward the exit.

"Someone has to start taming those dungeons," he replied without breaking stride.

Annika grabbed her spear and fell into step beside him. "Then I'm coming with you."

Josh joined them; hammer strapped to his back. "If we keep the dungeon count manageable, it'll buy Bastion the time it needs," he said.

Idris nodded, already calling up his HUD. "We'll fortify the city and prepare for the worst. Do what you can to slow the spread."

Martha folded her arms, her gaze never leaving the map. "The sooner we deal with Durnak, the better," she said.

Moyo gave a faint smile. "The system seems to want me to handle this personally. Best not to disappoint."

The trio exited the grand chamber, moving swiftly through the inner sanctum and into the heart of Bastion. The city was a hive of activity—ascenders armed themselves with weapons and supplies while civilians hurried about, reinforcing their homes and businesses. Moyo's sharp eyes caught sight of the aether rail project in the distance, its gleaming tracks snaking through the city.

"What's that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Boyle's latest idea," Annika replied. "Aether-powered railways to connect the city. Looks like he's rushing it now, given the circumstances."

A streak of blue lightning flashed through the air, landing beside them with a crackle. Hajin, Annika's vice commander in the Storm Riders, bowed respectfully.

"Lord Titan Blade," he said, his tone even. "The riders stand ready to bring your wrath to the dungeons—and gain levels while we're at it."

Moyo smiled faintly. "Soon. It seems the system has decided to test us yet again. We'll meet the challenge head-on, as always."

Hajin nodded and departed with a flash, leaving the trio to continue toward Bastion's gates. The towering purple beam of light marking the yellow zone was visible even from the city's heart, a constant reminder of the trial that awaited.

"Let's hope we're ready for this," Josh muttered as they stepped through the gates and into the unknown.

 ***********

Just outside the solar system, the now-improved and heavily fortified watch station of High Arbiter Zaren floated in the void, dwarfed only by the newly installed, nearly planet-sized aether gate. This monumental construct gleamed with intricate runic inscriptions, a testament to the system's potential as a nexus point for intergalactic trade and travel. For Zaren, its installation marked a significant achievement—a symbol of order and authority in a galaxy teeming with chaos.

The High Arbiter hovered near the gate, his hands clasped behind him as he watched the gateway pulse with radiant energy. One after another, vessels of varying designs emerged from its shimmering depths. They ranged from sleek and angular warships to ornate carriers that bristled with weapons and shields of unknown origin. Each vessel halted at a respectful distance from Zaren, as though cowed by his mere presence.

The ships began to release their passengers. Figures encased in shimmering aether bubbles drifted into the void, their forms distinct and alien. Some exuded regal confidence, others bristled with martial intent, and a few radiated an unsettling stillness that spoke of cunning and danger. As they approached, they bowed collectively, the motion uniting a multitude of shapes and forms into one gesture of submission.

"We greet the High Arbiter," they intoned, their voices harmonizing through the system's omnipresent translation. Regardless of their native tongues, Zaren understood each word as clearly as if it were his own.

His gaze swept over them, his expression unreadable. These representatives from lesser factions had gathered with a singular goal: to stake a claim in the upcoming trial world. Yet Zaren's tone was devoid of warmth as he began.

"You all stand here as lesser factions," he said, his voice reverberating through the void. "To be given the privilege to colonize a planet in this system at the end of the trial period—at my discretion."

The tension was palpable, the weight of his words settling over the gathered factions like a shroud.

One figure floated forward, her appearance drawing murmurs from the others. She was a humanoid wyvern with scales of gleaming black obsidian that caught the starlight, red serpentine eyes that glowed with intensity, and hair composed of interlocking chains that jingled faintly with every movement. Her aura, though refined and composed, hinted at the barely restrained power of a peak Advocate.

"Greetings, great High Arbiter," she began, her tone smooth but edged with pride. "I am Nizarri, granddaughter of the Black Claw himself. May I ask why you have summoned those who intend to participate in the trial world before the allocated time?"

Zaren's gaze hardened, his voice cutting like a blade. "Because I can. And I care not for your lineage or your titles."

Nizarri stiffened, but she masked her surprise quickly.

"I have judged the inhabitants of this system unprepared to withstand unrestricted competition for the trial world," Zaren continued. His tone brooked no argument. "Their development has been rushed, leaving them vulnerable. It is my duty to ensure balance."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, their unease growing as they absorbed his words.

"May we inquire further, High Arbiter?" asked another delegate, his voice resonant and metallic. He was a member of the Steelborn, a race that had long abandoned organic forms in favor of technology. His shimmering, rune-etched body was both machine and flesh, a testament to their mastery of augmentation.

"How may we assist in rectifying this imbalance?"

"This directive comes directly from my superiors," Zaren replied, his tone impassive. "The inhabitants of C-102 have faced trials and tribulations that have left them without respite. This measure ensures they are not obliterated before they can reach their potential."

Of course, Zaren left much unsaid. The machinations of his superiors and the brewing intrigue among the factions were matters beyond the concern of these lesser players.

"I see," the Steelborn replied, retreating slightly. His glowing eyes flickered briefly, likely in communication with his kindred minds.

Zaren's next pronouncement silenced the murmurs. "To that end, I will permit only six factions to vie for colonization rights. The selection will be decided by a bid."

Shock rippled through the gathered representatives; their dissatisfaction barely restrained.

"How will the High Arbiter determine this selection?" asked a towering green-skinned figure. His musculature, visible beneath his simple tunic, rippled with latent aura energy. His emerald eyes gleamed with challenge, his long black hair flowing in an unseen wind.

Zaren gestured to the space beside him, where a smaller aether gate materialized in a flash of light. From it stepped Atreus, the Trademaster, resplendent in silver robes adorned with golden accents. A floating construct orbited him, glowing softly as if reflecting his aura of authority. His smile was as bright and inviting as ever, but those who knew him understood the ruthlessness lurking beneath.

"Esteemed representatives," Atreus began, his voice warm and cultured. "It is my privilege to oversee this process. Let us commence the bidding at one Aurum coin."

The gathered factions bristled at his nonchalance, but none dared challenge the Trademaster. They knew his cunning was as formidable as his resources.

Nizarri's voice rang out first. "Two Aurums."

"Three," countered the Steelborn delegate, his mechanical voice unwavering.

"Four," growled another figure cloaked in shifting shadows, their form indistinct and unnerving.

Atreus's smile widened as the bids escalated. Each faction, desperate for a chance to claim a foothold in the system, revealed their hunger in increments of wealth and resources.

Zaren watched impassively, his thoughts veiled. He had set the stage. Now, the pieces would move, and the fate of C-102 would be decided amidst the ambitions of countless players.

 ***************

The border of the yellow zone loomed like the threshold of another world, its air thick with aether so dense it seemed to cling to their skin. Moyo stepped across first, drawing Ida with a deliberate motion, its edge gleaming faintly against the dull, oppressive atmosphere. Annika and Josh followed in his wake, weapons ready, their expressions hardened yet uneasy.

The landscape stretched out before them in a grotesque tableau. Dungeons dotted the terrain, some cracked open like festering wounds, spewing forth their aberrant horrors into the zone. Others lay eerily dormant, as if biding their time. The air was filled with the guttural snarls, clicks, and howls of creatures that had once been native to Earth, now twisted into abominations of shimmering scales, malformed limbs, and grotesque, elemental deformities.

The first wave came suddenly, a surge of chaotic forms that screamed as they rushed forward—venomous reptiles, hulking ape-like beasts, and monstrous hybrids of flesh and stone. Moyo activated Balogun's Domain, the force of it slamming into the creatures and freezing them mid-charge.

"Now!" he barked, his voice like steel.

Josh and Annika moved as one. Gravemaw cleaved through bone and sinew with brutal efficiency, its impact sending shockwaves through the earth. Annika's Stormpiercer danced, lightning crackling along its length as she pierced skulls and sent arcs of electricity ripping through clusters of beasts. Moyo joined the fray, Ida a blur of lethal precision as black ichor splattered across the ground, staining it with the taint of death.

Yet for every creature they felled, two more took its place. The aberrants poured from the shadows in unrelenting waves, an ocean of malice threatening to drown them.

"They just keep coming!" Annika growled; her voice strained as she struck down a clawed beast.

"They're trying to overwhelm us!" Josh bellowed, swinging Gravemaw in a wide arc, crushing several grotesque forms in one blow.

Moyo's focus remained unbroken. Blade Storm erupted around him, a vortex of slashing wind and deadly steel that shredded the advancing creatures into ribbons. Still, the tide surged on, more furious and relentless than before. The air itself seemed to quake under the weight of their onslaught.

The training had paid off. Moyo saw it in the precision of their strikes, in the grim determination that kept them moving despite the odds. But even so, it wasn't enough. The aberrants, frenzied and maddened, pressed harder, their numbers threatening to drown even their combined might.

Moyo felt the strain in his domain, its edges trembling under the sheer weight of the assault. A towering, goat-like creature with glowing eyes and a cudgel of jagged stone charged forward. Titan's Edge flared in his hands as he moved, severing the beast in a clean strike that split it from shoulder to waist. But even that seemed like a drop in the ocean of violence surrounding them.

The air grew heavy, suffused with an unnatural silence that pressed down on them like a smothering shroud. The creatures halted, their grotesque forms frozen in place as if caught in the grip of some unseen force. Their maddened eyes turned blank, their movements stilled.

A voice, deep and resonant, filled the space, carrying with it a weight that seemed to crush the very air.

You waste your time on weaklings, Titan.

The words echoed through the zone, vibrating through the bones of all who heard them.

Annika's knuckles whitened around her spear as her eyes darted nervously. "What is this?" she hissed, her voice trembling.

The voice came again, colder, mocking.

You bear the title, and yet you shy away from its gifts. Curious Titan you are.

Josh planted Gravemaw in the ground, using it to steady himself as he scanned the horizon. "It's… Durnak," he said, his voice unsteady.

A low, sinister chuckle reverberated through the air, its sound crawling up their spines.

Good. Yes. You know of me. The system must have whispered my name into your ears. Durnak, the Forsaken Titan.

Moyo's grip on Ida tightened, his gaze sharp as he scanned the area.

I am a prisoner of this zone, placed here to cull the unworthy—those who would dare claim the mantle of Titan without the strength to bear it. You… you are but another insect tested by the same cruel hand that bound me here.

Moyo's voice was steady, but the tension in his frame betrayed his wariness. "What do you want?"

The response came immediately, a surge of malice woven into the words.

What do I want? To feel bones crush in my hands. To lay low those who dare think themselves strong. I crave the thrill of battle, as you do, Titan. But this? This slaughter of fodder? It is meaningless. Leave these wretches for those beneath you. Come to me. Face me at my fortress if you have the courage. Glory awaits… or death.

The voice faded into a rumbling laugh that echoed across the zone. The aberrants turned as one, retreating into the shadows with unnatural synchronization, their forms vanishing into the creeping fog that began to spread across the landscape.

Annika stood frozen; her breath uneven. "That was the Forsaken Titan?" she asked, her voice laced with barely concealed fear.

"It's…" Josh trailed off, shaking his head as if words failed him.

Moyo remained silent, his expression unreadable. He sheathed Ida slowly, his eyes fixed on the distant fortress that now pulsed with a sickly purple light.

Without another word, he turned and began walking out of the yellow zone, his silence heavy with unspoken resolve. Annika and Josh followed, their steps uneasy, the weight of Durnak's presence lingering like a shadow over their hearts.