There was a quiet spark behind Ivor's eyes, something close to curiosity, edged with restrained excitement. The stories his father used to tell him about awakened fighters carving through beasts, standing where others fell, bending the world through strength and control. He had always listened without interrupting, memorizing every word.
He wanted that strength.
His gaze drifted to the second book, to the diagram of the human body traced with blue nodes. His fingers hovered over it, itching to open it, to understand what had awakened inside him and how far it could go.
Then he stopped himself.
Slowly, deliberately, he pulled his hand back.
Strength meant nothing if he didn't live long enough to use it.
Ivor reached instead for the third book.
The first chapter was titled simply: Scar
Beneath the title, two lines were written in heavier ink than the rest, the words pressed deep into the page.
If you are alone, assume everything is hunting you.
If you are not alone, assume someone is slower than you.
Ivor read them carefully before turning the page.
The writing that followed was measured and direct, stripped of exaggeration or fear. Whoever had written this was not trying to impress the reader. They were trying to keep them alive.
Scars exist across the world, with greater concentration outside established domain borders. They have been present for centuries, long enough that civilization no longer treats them as temporary disasters. Instead of removing them, societies learned how to build around them, contain them, and make use of them.
Once formed, a Scar remains, changing in intensity but never disappearing entirely.
All Scars follow four distinct cycles.
The first is Dormant. During this state, activity is minimal. Mana flow is unstable but contained, and threats are limited in number and strength.
The second is Active. Creatures emerge regularly, and environmental effects become noticeable. Most training operations and low-rank deployments occur during this phase.
The third is Escalating. Mana output increases beyond expected limits, enemy behavior becomes erratic, and casualties rise sharply. Intervention becomes mandatory.
The final state is Catastrophic. At this point, a Scar overwhelms all local control, spreads beyond its boundary, and forces evacuation or large-scale suppression efforts.
Domains intervene to push Scars back toward Dormant. They do not attempt to erase them, because such an outcome has never been achieved. Suppression buys time, nothing more.
The book went on to explain that the world itself is already old, shaped by repeated disasters and recoveries. Scars are no longer foreign elements within it. They are part of its structure.
Because of this, Domains maintain detailed registries of known Scars. Each Scar has a fixed location and a defined boundary. While their internal behavior can vary, their overall patterns remain predictable within limits.
Even after suppression, Scars resurface. Mana condenses again. Activity returns. This repetition is expected.
As a result, Scars are treated not only as dangers, but as assets.
They are hazards to be controlled, resources to be harvested, and leverage in political and territorial disputes. Properly managed, they strengthen Domains. Mishandled, they destroy them.
"So this is an active Scar," Ivor muttered under his breath.
He turned the page and continued reading.
According to the book, every Scar is divided into three distinct layers. The outermost region is known as the Wild Layer. Beneath it lies the Aberrant Layer. At the center rests the Core Layer.
The danger within a Scar increases the deeper one travels. The Wild Layer carries the lowest level of threat, while the Core Layer represents the highest risk. This structure remains consistent across all known Scars, regardless of rank or location.
However, the book made it clear that no two Scars behave in exactly the same way. Each layer may follow a shared theme, or the environment and enemies may change completely from one layer to the next. Predictability exists only in structure, not in content.
The Core Layer is described as the anchor of the Scar. As long as it remains active, the Scar will continue to produce instability. Suppression efforts are focused entirely on this layer, as clearing the core is the only known way to push a Scar back into a dormant state.
"Run faster."
The shout cut through the quiet forest, sharp and panicked.
Before Ivor could turn the page or read another line, his head snapped up toward the sound. It had come from deeper within the forest, close enough that it hadn't been swallowed by distance.
He closed the book immediately and slid it back into the bag, fingers moving without hesitation. The forest no longer felt empty.
Ivor shifted his weight and lowered himself along the branch, pressing his body flat against the rough bark. Leaves brushed against his cheek as he stilled, breath shallow, eyes fixed on the space between the trees ahead.
Footsteps followed.
Fast. Uneven. Rushing through undergrowth without care.
Two figures burst into view moments later, weaving between the trees at a desperate pace.
They looked to be around his age, maybe a year or two older or younger at most. Both wore black from head to toe, their clothes torn and slashed in several places, dark stains marking fabric that had once been clean. Each held a dagger in hand.
They were breathing hard, chests heaving, faces tight with strain.
Then something else emerged from the trees behind them.
Ivor blinked once, uncertain if his eyes were lying to him.
A skeleton.
Not small.
It stood taller than the boys it chased, its frame broad and wrong in proportion. Red light burned steadily inside its eye sockets, casting faint reflections against the pale bone of its skull.
In its hands was a sword shaped from bone, jagged and uneven, the edge chipped but heavy enough to cleave.
Branches snapped as it ran, feet striking the ground with a dry, hollow rhythm that carried farther than flesh ever could.
The boys veered sharply, zigzagging through the trees, one of them nearly tripping as he caught a root and barely recovered. The skeleton adjusted instantly, its stride lengthening as if it understood the terrain better than they did.
Ivor remained frozen on the branch, watching them pass beneath him and disappear toward the area he had come from.
The sound of pursuit lingered for several seconds longer before fading.
Only then did the forest seem to breathe again.
Ivor wondered if the boys were trying to escape the forest and make their way back toward the Scar gate.
Slowly, he pulled the book back out and opened it where he had left off, forcing his focus onto the page even as his senses stayed stretched outward.
He managed to finish a single page.
Then a sound reached him.
It was faint at first. A dry scrape against the forest floor, coming from the same direction the skeleton had chased the boys. Ivor didn't turn the page. He lowered the book and pressed himself flat against the branch once more, breath held, muscles tightening.
The sound grew closer.
He tilted his head just enough to look past the trunk.
The skeleton emerged from between the trees.
It was moving at a walk now, unhurried, its bone sword hanging loosely at its side. Red light burned steadily in its eyes as it crossed the forest floor and stopped directly beneath the tree.
A soft creaking sound rose from its frame as it lifted its head.
Its gaze locked onto the branch.
Onto him.