Chapter 10: Whispers in the Wind

Roen Kast stood at the edge of the platform on Gray Mist Island, the cold wind clawing at his tattered cloak, carrying faint, eerie whispers that seemed to slither from the mist's depths. Behind him, the Crack Void Hub pulsed with a faint blue glow, the only light piercing this gray, fog-choked world. Time was ticking down—the system's display read: 11 hours, 35 minutes, 47 seconds. The island was stabilizing after the mech-unit battle, but the air felt heavy, alive with something new. Something was closing in from 700 meters out, its presence as murky as the mist.

Liya sat nearby, her leg wrapped in a crude bandage, her wild hair snapping in the wind. For once, she was quiet, her sharp eyes scanning the fog as the whispers grew louder, weaving around them like restless spirits. Roen gripped his bent sword, the cold metal biting into his palm—a lifeline grounding him against the unease creeping up his spine.

"Kid," Liya broke the silence, her voice low, "you think those whispers… are alive?" She swatted her arm like she was fending off a phantom bug, her usual swagger faltering. "Or is it just the wind playing tricks?"

Roen shook his head, staring into the mist where the fog seemed to coil. "I don't know," he muttered, "but it's not friendly. The system's picking up something." He glanced at the floating panel, its text glowing starkly:

System Notification: Anomaly detected—unknown signal, 680 meters. Hostile intent uncertain. Atmospheric disturbance detected.

The wind surged, the whispers sharpening into a hiss. Roen felt a chill—not just the cold, but a prickling sense of being watched, like eyes hovered just out of sight. His architect's mind churned: the mist wasn't random; it moved with intent, a living shroud.

"We need to move," he said, turning to Liya. "The hub's evolving, but we're sitting ducks here. We take the fight to them—or at least get ahead of it."

Liya arched a brow, her grin flickering back, though her eyes stayed wary. "Leave this charming rock? About damn time—I'm itching to move." She stood, wincing as her leg buckled slightly, but brushed off Roen's glance. "I'm fine, kid, just a flesh wound. Where we headed?"

Roen pointed into the fog, where a jagged silhouette loomed faintly. "Windrock Island," he said, recalling the system's task. "It's close. If we connect it, the hub unlocks movement. We need that advantage."

Liya squinted, shielding her eyes. "Looks like a heap of trouble and sharp edges. Worth it?"

"It's our best play," Roen said, voice firm. "Kast family's got an outpost there—branch family, not the main dogs. Lightly guarded. We take it, we get resources, and the hub can shift. No more waiting for death to knock."

Liya's grin widened. "Alright, kid, I'm in. Let's swipe an island." She thumped her chest, then winced. "Ow—damn it, why do I do that?"

Roen snorted, a dry laugh escaping, and turned to the hub. "System, how do we get to Windrock Island?"

The panel flickered:

System Notification: Windrock Island coordinates locked. Host may choose manual traversal or await movement function unlock. Warning: Traversing through the mist carries risks of disorientation and hostile encounters.

"Manual it is," Roen muttered, glancing at Liya. "Ready to walk through hell?"

She flashed her teeth in a feral grin. "Born for it, kid. Just keep the bugs off me." She swatted her arm again, and Roen shook his head, chuckling despite the tension.

They grabbed their battered gear—bent swords, a handful of rocks, their bruised bodies—and descended the slope, the hub's glow fading behind them. The ground was slick and uneven, but Roen's instincts guided him, mapping the terrain in his mind. The mist thickened as they moved, the whispers coiling tighter, louder.

"Kid, these voices are creepy as hell," Liya whispered, her tone tight. "What do they want?"

Roen kept his eyes on Windrock Island's faint outline. "To mess with us," he said, jaw clenched. "Ignore them." But the whispers gnawed at him—traitor, exile, failure—each word a needle in his skull. He shook it off; they weren't real, just wind or Kast tricks.

At the island's edge, the fog parted, revealing a path of floating stones stretching toward Windrock Island. Each stone swayed, narrow and treacherous, a misstep away from the abyss. Roen's gut tightened—no stable footing, no safety.

"Perfect," Liya muttered, peering down. "I hate heights—and bugs. Better not have both."

"No bugs," Roen said, stepping onto the first stone. It rocked but held. "Don't look down." He inhaled sharply, the cold air stinging, and moved forward. Liya followed, her usual bravado muted by the void below.

The whispers swelled as they crossed, words slicing through the wind—traitor, failure—hitting Roen like blows. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the next stone. They weren't real, just ghosts of his past—trial, scorn, exile. He wasn't that man anymore; he was sharper, harder now.

Halfway across, a gust nearly threw Liya off. She yelped, grabbing Roen's arm, nails biting into him. "Steady," he grunted, hauling her up. "Almost there."

Windrock Island loomed closer—jagged cliffs, twisted trees, shadows stretching long. The whispers faded, replaced by a mechanical hum. Roen cursed under his breath—a mech-unit, patrolling.

"Great," he stopped on a wider stone, breathing hard. "Another one."

Liya peeked ahead. "Smaller—scout type, not a bruiser." She patted her sword, grinning. "I can carve it up, bugs or not."

"Not yet," Roen said, mind racing. "We sneak in, find the core, connect the hub. Stealth first." He scanned the island—cliffs left, forest right, core likely central. The mech's patrol looped every thirty seconds.

"Stealth?" Liya's grin faded. "I'm better at smashing, kid." She swatted her leg, muttering, "Damn wind bugs," and Roen sighed, exasperated.

"Follow me," he said, stepping forward. "And stop swatting—you'll get us caught."

They crossed the rest in silence, the mech's hum shadowing them. At the island's edge, Roen ducked behind a boulder, Liya beside him, her breath hot on his neck. The mech trudged past—smaller, hammer-arms idle, red eyes scanning. Deadly, but not invincible.

"Timing," Roen whispered, counting its loop. "Thirty seconds. When it turns, we go." His architect's precision clicked—measure, act.

Liya nodded, chaos reined in. "Got it, kid." She swatted her arm, cursed, and froze at Roen's glare. "Sorry—reflex."

The mech turned, and Roen darted—boulder to tree, silent and swift. Liya followed, boots soft on moss. The forest closed in, branches snagging them, the ground slippery. The whispers were gone, but the mech's hum lingered, a constant threat.

They reached the island's heart—a small fortress, stone walls, Kast eagle crest glaring down. Guards patrolled, fewer than expected—six or seven, armor catching the dim light.

"Lightly guarded," Liya whispered, grinning. "We can take 'em."

"Core first," Roen said, gripping his sword. "Main hall or below." He pictured it—keep, vault, core pulsing.

They crept to the wall, hugging shadows. Roen pressed his ear to the stone—footsteps, voices:

"—waste lord's dead," a guard laughed. "Exile cleaned up for us."

"Not what I heard," another murmured. "He's got an SSS-grade system. Family's furious."

Roen's jaw tightened. They knew. Liya mimed a throat-slit; he shook his head—stealth now, fight later.

They found a rusted side door, half-open. Roen slipped through, Liya behind, into an empty courtyard—crates, a torch flickering. The main hall's door glowed ahead.

"Core's there," Roen whispered, pulse racing. "In, absorb, out—quiet." Liya nodded, sword ready.

The whispers returned, sharper—traitor, you can't escape. Roen froze as a cloaked figure flickered in the doorway, red eyes glowing, then vanished. Liya grabbed him. "Kid, you saw that?"

"Yeah," he swallowed, "but it's not real." He hoped.

They entered the hall—oil and metal thick in the air, a hum vibrating. The core glowed blue on a platform, cracked, pulsing. Roen reached for it, but the whispers roared, and the figure reappeared—red eyes blazing.

"Traitor," it rasped, lunging. Roen dodged, sword up; Liya swung, hitting smoke. The system screamed:

System Notification: Hostile entity detected—non-physical. Immediate withdrawal advised.

"Withdrawal?" Roen snarled. "Where?" The figure loomed, claws flashing. He slashed—it vanished. Silence fell, the core steady.

"What was that?" Liya whispered, pale.

"Don't know," Roen panted, "but it's gone." He touched the core—light flared, energy surging. The hall shook, the system updating:

System Notification: Core absorption initiated. Crack Void Hub linked—movement unlocking in 10 hours, 59 minutes, 33 seconds.

Roen grinned, exhausted but triumphant. "We did it. Let's go."

They fled, the mech's hum rising, but slipped past, back to the bridge. The whispers faded, the wind howling as they returned to Gray Mist Island. Roen glanced back—whatever that figure was, it wasn't finished.

But he'd won—for now.