The next three days blurred into a relentless sweep across the flat world's endless plains and fractured canyons.
The wolf-kin trackers—Ryn and Kael—led with tireless precision, noses to the wind, ears swiveling at every distant sound. Minho, Junha, Seojin, Lisa, and Jiyeon followed in loose formation, packs lighter now after leaving most of their remaining nutrient bars and medical supplies with Mara's settlement.
They found nothing.
No second campfire smoke. No faint footprints. No broken cart trails. Just wind-scoured stone, shimmering heat mirages, and the occasional bleached skeleton of some long-dead beast half-buried in sand.
On the evening of the fourth day, Ryn halted abruptly on a low ridge overlooking a shallow basin ringed by jagged black spires. Her ears flattened.
"Merchant," she growled softly. "Dimensional signature."
Junha squinted into the dusk.
A single tent stood in the center of the basin—silk walls shifting colors like oil on water, glowing faintly with runes. A tall, multi-eyed figure in flowing trader robes moved between floating crates, antennae twitching as it arranged glowing orbs on a low table. No guards. No caravan. Just one interdimensional merchant, seemingly unbothered by the isolation.
Minho raised a hand.
"Approach slow. Hands visible. If it's willing to talk trade, we listen."
They descended the ridge openly.
The merchant noticed them long before they reached the tent. All six eyes swiveled in unison; mandibles clicked once in polite greeting.
"Travelers from the Mortal tribe," it said in smooth, accented Common. "kim family,yes? Word travels fast on the trade winds. I am Zeth'kar, independent broker. No affiliation. No guild mark. What do you seek?"
Seojin stepped forward first—Currency Sovereign ability already tingling at his fingertips.
"Information, mostly. Any word of human settlements? Small groups, campfires, refugees moving east or south?"
Zeth'kar's antennae curled thoughtfully.
"Humans are scattered like seeds after a storm. One cluster—thirty-seven souls—received aid four days ago. Your doing, I presume. Beyond that… silence. The constellations have been… active. Many small fires have gone dark in the last cycle. Raiders. Beasts. Or simply despair. But there are whispers of a larger gathering—two hundred, perhaps more—hiding in the floating ruins to the north-east. Hard to reach. Harder to trust."
Junha's eyes narrowed.
"Floating ruins?"
"Old plate fragment. Towers suspended by vine-tethers. Humans there have scavenged generators, weapons. They trade sparingly with select merchants. I can sell you a map-key—coordinates, safe landing points—for five hundred mid-grade essence shards."
Seojin glanced at Minho, who gave a small nod.
Seojin extended his palm. Golden light rippled; five hundred mid-grade shards materialized in a neat stack.
Zeth'kar accepted them with a pleased click of mandibles and handed over a small crystal disc etched with glowing runes.
"Press to activate. It will guide true north to the ruins. Beware—the vines are alive. And the humans there… do not welcome strangers easily."
Minho accepted the disc.
"Anything else we should know?"
The merchant's eyes glinted.
"The First Incursion stirs. Constellation scouts have been sighted—small avatars, shadow-like. They watch strongholds. They test defenses. Yours… will be noticed soon."
With that, Zeth'kar bowed once and began folding his tent. The air shimmered; the entire stall vanished into a pocket of folded space.
The group stood in sudden silence.
Lisa exhaled.
"Two hundred people. If they're real, that's a foundation. But if they're hostile…"
Junha pocketed the map-key.
"Then we earn their trust. Same as Mara's group."
They turned back toward the beastman camp—three days west—moving faster now, driven by new purpose.
By dusk on the sixth day they reached the red-rock amphitheater again. Fires burned high; banners snapped in the evening breeze. Taetigkon waited on his stone dais, golden eyes tracking their approach.
"You return empty-handed," he rumbled.
"Not empty," Minho said. "We saved one settlement—thirty-seven souls. They'll join when they're strong enough. And we have coordinates for another—larger. Two hundred, possibly. Hidden in floating ruins. We'll need more scouts, supplies, and time to approach them carefully."
Taetigkon's tail flicked once.
"Then you shall have them. Rest tonight. Tomorrow we plan the approach."
As the group dispersed toward guest tents, Junha lingered near the fox-clan section.
Yuri stood at the edge of her banner's firelight—nine tails swaying slowly, golden eyes catching the flames. She tilted her head as he approached.
"kim junha," she said, voice light but edged. "You look like a man carrying new burdens."
Junha stopped a respectful distance away.
"Just trying to carry the ones we already have. Your scouts were invaluable. Thank you."
Yuri smiled—sharp, playful, but with something deeper behind it.
"You saved thirty-seven humans today. That's not nothing. Most leaders would call it a victory and rest on it."
"I don't rest when there are more out there starving," Junha said simply.
She stepped closer—close enough that he caught the faint scent of foxfire and desert jasmine.
"You intrigue me, junha" she murmured. "Your brother fights like a man who remembers every death. You fight like a man who remembers how to prevent them. That's rarer."
Junha met her gaze steadily.
"We both remember too much. That's why we can't stop."
Yuri's smile softened—just a fraction.
"Then let me help you carry it. My clan's illusionists can hide entire caravans. My personal guard can move unseen through ruins. Use us. When you go north-east to those floating towers… take my people with you."
Junha studied her for a long moment.
"Why?"
"Because," she said quietly, "I want to see what kind of world two brothers who refuse to kneel will build. And because… I'd rather stand beside the future than watch it burn from the sidelines."
She extended a slender, clawed hand.
Junha took it—firm, no hesitation.
"Deal."
Yuri's tails curled in quiet satisfaction.
"Rest well,junha. Tomorrow we start building something worth burning for."
She turned back toward her firelight, leaving Junha standing under the cold stars.
Somewhere in the distance, faint campfires still waited.
And now—two hundred more souls had a name, a direction, and a promise.
…to be continued