Meanwhile outside the dungeon...


    Nyssa sat slumped against a shattered stone pillar, her breath shallow. Blood seeped from a gash along her side, staining her tattered cloak. She had fought hard to buy Zoren time, but in the end, she had barely escaped.


    The market district was in ruins—abandoned stalls, cracked cobblestone, and the distant flicker of torches as patrols searched the streets. She couldn''t stay here long.


    Footsteps approached.


    She gritted her teeth, forcing her body to tense for another fight—until she saw who it was.


    Linda and Talis.


    The two slowed as they took in her state. Linda''s sharp gaze flicked over the wound, while Talis hesitated, looking almost uncomfortable.


    "You look like hell," Talis muttered.


    Nyssa managed a smirk. "You should see the other guy."


    Linda knelt beside her without another word, already pulling a roll of bandages from her satchel. "We need to get you somewhere safe. This isn''t the place to patch you up."


    Nyssa shook her head. "No time. Zoren—"


    "Isn''t here," Talis interrupted, crossing his arms. "We know. He went to the dungeon. We need you alive if we''re gonna help him."


    Nyssa exhaled sharply but didn''t argue. Linda pressed a cloth to her wound, and she hissed at the sting.


    "Think you can stand?" Linda asked.


    Nyssa nodded, but when she tried to push herself up, her legs wobbled. Talis sighed and crouched beside her, offering his arm. "Come on, before the patrols sweep through here."


    Linda took the lead, scanning the alleys. "The inns in the central district are too risky. We''ll take her to a backstreet apothecary I know."


    Talis helped Nyssa walk as they slipped through the darkened streets, their movements careful, quiet.


    ---


    The streets smelled of damp stone and burnt Titan Core dust. The deeper they went into the lower districts, the more the city felt like it had been swallowed by its own shadow—narrow alleys curling like veins, buildings stitched together by rusted beams and forgotten time.


    Linda led the way, her steps brisk but careful, her eyes scanning the streets like a seasoned rogue. Talis followed close, cradling Nyssa in his arms. She was lighter than he remembered, her breathing faint, her face sickly pale. The wound on her side pulsed with a strange, unsettling glow.


    "This place better not be a scam," Talis muttered.


    Linda smirked without looking back. "You think I''d drag us through this shithole if it was?"


    A single, unmarked door loomed at the end of the alley, wedged between two crumbling buildings. It looked abandoned—dust clung to the corners, the wood swollen from years of neglect. But a closer look revealed glyphwork burned into the grain, faint sigils that shimmered under the dim lamplight.


    Linda rapped her knuckles against the door in a specific pattern—two quick taps, a pause, then one slow knock.


    Silence.


    Then, a voice from the other side, muffled but sharp. "Who sent you?"


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    Linda''s lips quirked. "The same ghost that haunts your debt books."


    A pause. Then, the sound of locks shifting—five, maybe six different mechanisms clicking free. The door creaked open just enough to reveal a single, golden eye peering through the gap.


    "Didn''t think I''d see you again, Linda."


    She shrugged. "Figured you missed me."


    The golden eye flicked to Talis and Nyssa. "That one''s dying."


    "No shit," Talis snapped. "You gonna let us in or let her rot out here?"


    A low sigh. Then, the door swung open fully, revealing a cramped, dimly lit room lined with shelves overflowing with strange relics, Core-infused vials, and dried herbs that smelled of both medicine and something more arcane. A lantern hung from the ceiling, its glow warped by the swirling mist of a half-spilled potion.


    The man before them was lean, sharp-faced, his arms covered in faded Titan sigils that marked him as someone who had once dabbled in things most would call forbidden. He eyed Nyssa''s wound and clicked his tongue.


    "Get her on the table," he ordered, already moving to gather supplies.


    Talis didn''t hesitate, stepping inside and lowering Nyssa onto the sturdy—but stained—treatment slab. Linda followed, kicking the door shut behind them.


    The healer lit a cluster of incense, the smoke curling into strange, serpentine shapes as he worked. "This isn''t just a wound," he muttered, tracing the energy pulsing beneath Nyssa''s skin. "Something''s trying to take root in her Core."


    Linda crossed her arms. "Can you fix it?"


    The healer''s golden eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. "Depends… how much are you willing to sacrifice?"


    ---


    The clinic smelled of crushed herbs, burnt Titan beast Core dust, and something more metallic—blood, but not fresh. The shelves sagged under the weight of glass vials filled with swirling energy, old books bound in cracked leather, and odd trinkets that pulsed with forgotten power.


    Nyssa''s breath was shallow, her face slick with sweat. The wound on her side wasn''t just physical—it pulsed with a dark, curling energy that licked at the edges of her skin, trying to spread.


    The healer—Dren—rolled up the sleeves of his robe, revealing arms covered in faded Titan sigils, marks of a man who had once walked too close to forbidden knowledge. He pressed two fingers to Nyssa''s wrist, his golden eyes narrowing as he felt the pulse of her Core.


    "She''s not just injured," he murmured. "Something''s corrupting her from the inside."


    Talis stiffened. "Corrupting how?"


    Dren didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for a nearby shelf, plucking a vein-like root from a glass jar. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he ground it between his fingers, letting the black dust fall into a bowl.


    "She was exposed to something powerful—something that doesn''t belong in her Core. This isn''t just normal Core backlash. It''s trying to alter her."


    Linda leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "So fix it."


    Dren snorted. "Not that simple." He motioned toward the wound, which was now oozing a faint, smoky haze. "If I just close it up, the corruption stays. If I remove it without care, it might break her Core entirely. Either way, she''s screwed."


    Talis clenched his jaw. "Then what do we do?"


    Dren exhaled slowly, then reached for a dull, curved blade etched with runes. The metal shimmered under the lantern''s glow.


    "I''m going to cut away the corruption. But…" He gave them a look, serious and unwavering. "She''s not going to like it."


    Linda nodded. "She''ll live. That''s all that matters."


    Dren gave a short, humorless chuckle. "Then hold her down."


    Talis moved immediately, pressing Nyssa''s shoulders against the table. Linda took her wrists, her grip firm but careful. Dren dipped the blade into a vial of glowing blue liquid, the metal drinking in the energy like a starved beast.


    Then, without hesitation, he pressed the tip to Nyssa''s wound.


    The reaction was immediate.


    Nyssa''s body arched violently as a pulse of raw energy erupted from her Core, dark tendrils lashing out as if trying to defend themselves. The room''s lantern flickered wildly, shelves rattling as the corruption fought back.


    But Dren was faster. He drove the blade deeper, slicing through the unseen threads that had begun to weave into her Core. The liquid on the blade sizzled as it met the corruption, burning it away inch by inch.


    Nyssa let out a strangled gasp, her eyes flickering open—but they weren''t her eyes.


    For a split second, her irises turned completely black, streaked with something ancient, something wrong.


    Then, just as quickly, the darkness shattered.


    Dren twisted the blade, severing the last of the corrupted energy. A sharp, high-pitched screech filled the room—a sound that wasn''t human, wasn''t alive, but was something in between. It curled through the air, clawing at the edges of reality before finally vanishing into silence.


    Nyssa went limp. The wound on her side no longer glowed—it was now just a normal, deep gash, red and raw, but no longer pulsing with corruption.


    Dren stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow.


    "She''s clear," he muttered, wiping the blade clean. "For now."


    Talis loosened his grip, exhaling heavily. "That… was more than just a normal infection."


    Dren nodded. "Whatever did this to her wasn''t natural." His golden eyes flicked between them. "And if you don''t find out what, it''ll happen again."


    Linda sighed, rubbing her temples. "Great. Another mystery."


    She looked at Nyssa''s unconscious form, her face finally peaceful.


    At least, for now.


    ---


    Meanwhile the world was about to change from the event that wss about to occur


    At the Titan hunters federation...


    The chamber was vast, lined with towering stone pillars and banners bearing the insignia of the Titan Hunter Federation. At its center sat the Grand Marshal, an older man with sharp eyes and a presence that demanded silence. Around him stood the vice grand Marshal, and representatives of the most powerful Hunter legions.


    The atmosphere was tense. A summons had been issued—urgent, without warning.


    The doors slammed open.


    Two Titan Hunter soldiers rushed inside, dragging a battered figure between them. His cloak was torn, his body covered in frost and scorch marks. Blood stained his armor, and his breaths came in ragged gasps.


    Orin Kierane.


    A commander stepped forward, his voice grim. "We found him outside the outer gates. He barely made it."


    A murmur spread through the chamber.


    The Grand Marshal raised a hand for silence, his gaze fixed on Orin. "What happened?"


    Orin lifted his head, his face pale, eyes filled with something rare—fear.


    His voice was hoarse, but the words came clear as death itself.


    "One of the Veilborn… has escaped."


    Silence.


    Then—


    The torches flickered.


    A sharp intake of breath.


    A vice grand Marshal in the chamber whispered, "Impossible."


    Orin forced himself to stand, despite his injuries. His hands trembled. "I saw it. I barely survived. If we don''t act—" He swallowed. "It will devour everything."


    The Grand Marshal''s gaze darkened.


    He turned to the others.


    "Summon the Council. Now and announce this fucking news."


    The chamber erupted into motion.


    Because this?


    This changed everything.


    And they were already too late.


    ---


    To be continued