The transport rumbled across uneven ground as the walls of the city shrank into the distance.
Ahead lay the Frontier—
a region where the land itself rejected stability, where mana storms were born, where demons roamed freely, and where ancient remnants slept beneath broken hills.
Aren leaned against the cold metal wall, watching the landscape transform.
The paved roads faded.
Grassland thickened.
Ruined towers jutted from the earth like bones.
Grey clouds rolled low, heavy with mana static.
One of the Frontier operatives spoke from across the carriage.
"You're quiet."
Aren didn't reply at first.
Then:
"…Thinking."
The operative nodded as if that answer made sense.
"You lost a lot," she said gently. "City life. Academy status. Your power."
Aren looked down at his hands.
"I didn't lose everything."
"Maybe not," she replied. "But enough."
The other operative, older and carrying twin axes on his back, finally spoke.
"Don't worry, kid. Frontier's rough, but not all bad. You learn to live free out here."
Aren raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Free?"
"Out there, no Council. No politics. No Academy ranking. You survive by your own strength. Or you die."
Comforting.
Aren leaned back again.
He didn't fear the Frontier.
He feared the silence inside him.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The sky darkened as the vehicle entered a region of broken cliffs and wind-swept ravines.
A faint hum vibrated through the ground.
Aren stiffened.
He recognized that hum.
Not the void king.
Not the rival entity.
Something… different.
And new.
A voice crackled through the transport's comm crystal.
"Frontier Outpost Thirty-Seven to Transport Unit:
Be advised, mana fluctuations detected on the Ridge of Shards. Proceed with caution."
The operative grunted.
"That ridge again? Tch. Must be another minor anomaly."
The female operative checked her scanner.
"No… readings say this one is moving."
Aren's gaze sharpened.
Moving.
Something alive.
The older operative sighed.
"Of course it is. Great welcome gift for the new kid."
Aren asked quietly:
"What kind of things… move out here?"
Both operatives exchanged a glance.
The younger one answered:
"Remnants."
Aren frowned.
"Like ruins?"
"No," she said. "Like monsters left behind by ancient events. Things that don't obey normal demon logic."
The older operative added:
"Things that break the rules of nature. They shouldn't exist, but they do. Like someone rewrote the laws around them."
Aren fell silent.
Something clicked in his mind.
His awakening.
The void king.
The rival entity.
His evolution.
Breaking rules.
Rewriting systems.
The void wasn't just a source of power.
It was a rule-breaker.
Maybe these "remnants" were traces of similar forces.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The transport slowed.
The female operative tapped the side panel.
"Why are we stopping?"
A static voice replied through the comm:
"—outpost—under—attack—multiple signals—need—assistance—"
The line cut.
The older operative cursed.
"Damn it. That was the outpost we're delivering him to."
The female operative grabbed her rifle.
"Pull over. We go on foot from here."
The vehicle braked sharply.
Aren stood.
"Let me help."
Both operatives stared at him.
"You have no powers," the old one said flatly.
Aren held up a hand.
"Not true."
He concentrated—
Faintly—
Flick.
A tiny spark of violet light danced on his palm.
Small. Weak.
But real.
The female operative's eyes widened.
"That… shouldn't be possible. Your evolution was severed."
Aren closed his fist.
"It broke.
But it didn't die."
For a moment, no one spoke.
The older one finally let out a long breath.
"Hells… fine. Stay behind us. If anything charges, you move. No heroics."
Aren nodded.
He wasn't planning heroics.
Just survival.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The group climbed the ridge, wind howling in violent spirals.
A thick fog rolled in, swirling unnaturally.
Aren felt it before the others did—
A tug.
A pulse.
A distortion.
Like space itself bending.
He whispered:
"…Something's coming."
The female operative raised her rifle.
"What direction?"
Aren narrowed his eyes.
"…Everywhere."
The fog condensed—
rising—
taking shape—
becoming something massive.
A hulking silhouette emerged from the mist.
Six limbs.
A body covered in fractured stone plates.
Eyes glowing with pale silver light.
A Remnant.
The older operative hissed:
"Void-touched. Tier B. Defensive formation!"
The creature's head twitched.
Then it spoke.
Not with a voice.
With a vibration.
Aren felt it in his bones.
"Bearer… of broken void…"
Aren froze.
The operatives stiffened.
"…It's speaking?" the woman whispered.
The Remnant took a step forward.
Fog parted around it like a cloak.
Its gaze locked onto Aren.
"A spark… remains."
Aren's pulse raced.
"You… can sense it?"
The Remnant's limbs cracked open, revealing glowing runes beneath the stone plates.
"You severed the path of the king.
And in doing so…
you created a wound."
Aren stepped back.
"A wound?"
The fog thickened.
The Remnant's voice grew deeper.
"Yes. A Voidscar."
Aren's chest tightened.
"What does that mean?"
The Remnant leaned forward.
"It means the void still lives in you—
but without a king to bind it."
Aren's eyes widened.
"…Then what binds it?"
The Remnant trembled.
Its runes flared.
Its voice shifted into a frightening harmony—
"You do."
Aren's breath hitched.
The operatives exchanged looks.
"What does that mean?" the older one snapped.
The Remnant continued:
"Aren Voidbearer…
your evolution is no longer limitless…"
Aren swallowed hard.
"…Then what is it?"
The fog spiraled violently.
The Remnant spoke:
"It is uncontrolled."
Aren's heart dropped.
Uncontrolled.
Not gone.
Not stable.
Not safe.
The female operative whispered:
"Get back. Now."
Aren stood frozen.
The Remnant raised its six limbs.
"You will either command the void…
or the void will consume you."
It lunged.