Chương 125: Chapter 123. Stone Singers

Adom bounced on his toes, working some life back into his legs. Fifteen hours in the same position had left him stiffer than he'd expected, even with his enhanced physiology. The night had fully claimed the Highland valley, leaving only moonlight to illuminate the strange landscape below. Stars glittered overhead with unusual clarity—fewer light sources to compete with out here in the wilderness.

"Time for dinner," he muttered, fishing Mari's meat pie from his inventory. The smell that wafted up when he broke the crust made his stomach growl appreciably. He washed down the savory meal with water from his canteen, noting he'd need to refill it soon. The river Skyreacher had pointed out should provide safe drinking water. According to the rough mental map she'd provided, he still had at least two days of travel ahead.

"Best get moving then," he said to no one in particular. Adom cast [Flight] again, reveling in the efficiency boost his newly formed circle provided. The spell felt smoother, more responsive—like the difference between driving a cart with square wheels versus round ones. He launched himself eastward, following the silvery thread of the river below. The moonlight transformed the landscape into something dreamlike—shadows deeper, highlights brighter, colors reduced to shades of blue and silver.

The reduced gravity and his enhanced spell efficiency allowed him to cover ground rapidly. Forests gave way to rocky plateaus, then to valleys filled with strange, bulbous plants that seemed to glow faintly with bioluminescence. Several hours into his journey, the wind shifted, bringing with it a new scent—one that made Adom wrinkle his nose instinctively. Death. Decay. Predator. The smell reminded him of a deer carcass—that unmistakable mix of rotting flesh and the musky scent of whatever had been feeding on it.

Adom slowed his flight, descending slightly for a better look. The terrain below had changed, becoming more jagged and less hospitable. Scattered among the rocks were unmistakable signs of predation—bones, some bleached white by the sun, others still carrying strips of desiccated flesh. Many were enormous, clearly belonging to creatures similar to those he'd seen in Skyreacher's valley.

"Definitely not in friendly territory anymore," he murmured, noting a particularly impressive skull that must have come from something at least thirty feet long. The remains formed a rough path leading toward a narrow canyon—a perfect ambush spot. Even in the moonlight, Adom could see drag marks in the dirt, places where massive bodies had been hauled across the ground. This wasn't just a kill site; it was a larder.

Just as that thought registered, a sound cut through the night—a high-pitched buzzing that started faint but grew rapidly louder. Adom looked up, trying to locate the source. The sound intensified, vibrating the air around him. Then he saw it, silhouetted against the moon—a shape that his brain initially refused to process correctly. A mosquito. Except it wasn't the tiny insect he was familiar with. This thing had a wingspan of at least twelve feet, with a proboscis nearly half as long as its body.

Its compound eyes reflected the moonlight like polished obsidian as it oriented toward him.

"You have got to be kidding me," Adom said flatly. The creature dove, its buzz becoming a deafening whine. Adom hovered in place, raising his index finger toward the incoming insect. The Axis flowed through pathways that felt newly optimized. He wanted to test something. A spell he'd once had to prepare carefully, that once would have drained nearly his entire mana pool, now formed almost effortlessly. Energy gathered at his fingertip, condensing into a pinpoint of brilliant white light. [Plasma Ray].

A beam of superheated energy, no wider than a pencil, lanced from his finger. It struck the giant mosquito mid-dive, precisely where its thorax met its abdomen. For a split second, nothing seemed to happen—then the creature simply came apart, its exoskeleton unable to withstand the concentrated heat. The two halves of the insect fell away from each other, trailing wisps of smoke as they tumbled toward the ground.

Adom glanced at his status: [Mana Pool: 2767/3067]"Three hundred mana for a bug," he said with a mixture of satisfaction and annoyance. A rustling sound drew his attention downward. At first, he thought it was just the mosquito's remains hitting the ground. Then he saw it—a segmented body weaving between the scattered bones, each segment at least two feet wide. The giant centipede's armored plates gleamed dully in the moonlight as it investigated the fallen insect parts.

Numerous legs rippled in synchronized waves as it moved, and a pair of venomous-looking mandibles clicked eagerly at the prospect of fresh food.

"Ugh," Adom grimaced. He could blast this creature too, but at 300 mana per shot, he'd quickly deplete his reserves if he encountered more of these oversized arthropods. Better to conserve energy for real threats. Adom rose higher, putting more distance between himself and the ground. His newly expanded mana pool gave him confidence, but not recklessness. He'd only just achieved First Circle; there was no need to test its limits against every giant bug he encountered.

"Flight is expensive, but still cheaper than combat," he reasoned, adjusting his course to continue following the river while maintaining altitude. The sensation of power flowing through his expanded pathways was intoxicating. Adom checked his mental map again. At his current pace, the journey would take far too long. Skyreacher had warned against flying higher, but with his new capabilities... He adjusted his spell, pushing more energy into it. He shot upward, the ground dropping away at a dizzying rate.

The cool night air rushed past him as he ascended to nearly a thousand feet above the valley floor. Up here, the wind was stronger, but his enhanced control compensated easily. From this height, he could see much further. The three peaks that marked his destination stood in sharp relief against the star-filled sky, much closer than he'd realized. If he maintained this altitude and speed, he could potentially reach them by morning.

Ten minutes into his accelerated journey, something caught his eye—movement against the stars. Not the erratic flight of insects, but something larger. More purposeful. He remembered Skyreacher's warning: "Great wind-hunters patrol high places." The shapes resolved as they drew closer—four winged creatures with wingspans of at least twenty feet each. Their bodies were streamlined, with long, narrow snouts filled with needle-like teeth.

Leathery wings stretched between elongated finger bones, and their tails ended in diamond-shaped fins that seemed to help them steer. The lead creature spotted him, letting out a shrill cry that the others immediately echoed. As one, they banked toward him, jaws gaping. Adom assessed the situation. Four predators. Too maneuverable to outrun. Too determined to ignore. Alright then, he thought, flexing his fingers. Let's try something else. The first creature dove at him, its speed impressive.

Adom waited, timing his response carefully. When the creature was just twenty feet away, he gathered mana into his palm and twisted it. [Air Blade]. He made a slashing motion, and the compressed air between his hand and the creature condensed to near-solid density before releasing in a cutting wave. The blade of air struck the creature's left wing, slicing through the leathery membrane as cleanly as a scalpel. The creature shrieked, its aerodynamics instantly compromised.

It spiraled downward, unable to maintain flight with half a wing missing. The other three spread out, attempting to flank him. Adom spun in place, gathering more energy. As the second attacker approached from his right, he released another [Air Blade], this one cutting horizontally across the creature's path. The creature tried to bank away but was a fraction too slow. The compressed air sliced through its neck, nearly decapitating it. The remaining two screeched in what might have been anger or fear.

They circled more cautiously now, assessing this strange prey that fought back with invisible weapons. Adom didn't wait for them to regroup. He shot upward suddenly, then cut his flight spell for a moment. As gravity began to reclaim him, he used the momentary free-fall to spin and face the third one that had tried to dive on him from above. [Air Bullet]. A concentrated sphere of hyper-compressed air shot from his palm, striking the surprised predator directly in its chest.

The impact shattered ribs and ruptured organs. The creature convulsed once before its wings went limp. One more, Adom thought, reactivating his flight spell to halt his descent. The final pterosaur was smarter than its companions. Instead of attacking directly, it circled at a distance, shrieking continuously—possibly calling for reinforcements. [Flow Prediction] Adom mentally calculated the creature's flight path, then accelerated directly toward it. The sudden aggression seemed to confuse the pterosaur.

It hesitated just long enough for Adom to close the distance. As they converged, Adom extended both hands and manipulated the ambient mana around him. Glowing filaments extended from his fingertips, wrapping around the pterosaur's wings, neck, and tail. The creature thrashed against the magical restraints, but Adom's core channeled more than enough power to hold it. He guided his captive away from its fall-ing companions, assessing it more carefully now that it wasn't trying to eat him.

Despite its fearsome appearance, there was an elegance to its design—perfectly evolved for its environment.

"Cooperate!" Adom said, directing more mana into the threads. Instead of simply binding the creature, he began weaving the threads into its nervous system, establishing a rudimentary control network. The creature's struggles weakened as Adom's influence spread. It wasn't mind control in the traditional sense—more like creating a magical override that allowed him to suggest movements that the creature's body would follow.

"Easy now," he said, feeling the pterosaur's panic.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you cooperate." Gradually, the creature's wing beats synchronized with Adom's mental commands. Its head stopped thrashing, and its tail fin adjusted to the course Adom desired. He released some of the visible threads, maintaining only the essential control matrix. To an observer, it would now appear as if the creature was flying normally—except with a human passenger. Adom positioned himself on the creature's back, just behind the ridge where its neck joined its body.

The skin was surprisingly warm beneath him, and he could feel powerful muscles working with each wing beat.

"East," he commanded, focusing on the three peaks.

"Toward the mountains." The creature banked obediently, its flight now smooth and purposeful. Adom checked his mana reserves: [Mana Pool: 2112/3067] The air blades and control spell had cost him, but not nearly as much as they would have before his breakthrough. And maintaining the control required only a modest continuous drain—far less than sustaining his flight spell over the same distance.

As dawn broke over the horizon, Adom decided to try something. He'd gotten communication with Skyreacher to work—maybe he could learn something from this creature too. He used his druidic abilities, reaching beyond the control threads and into the mind beneath.

"Can you understand me?" he projected. The response hit him like a brick to the face—pure, undiluted rage.

"GET OUT!" Adom winced but kept the connection open.

"I just want to talk."

"Your threads BURN. They're INSIDE me." The creature's thoughts were razor-sharp, slicing through the mental space between them.

"Let GO."

"I need to reach the mountains," Adom said simply.

"You killed my brothers."

"They attacked me first."

"YOU CAME INTO OUR TERRITORY!" The mental scream was so intense Adom almost lost his concentration.

"Those are OUR skies! We've hunted there since before the small things crawled out of the mud!" Adom maintained his calm.

"That doesn't mean you had to attack. We could have talked first." Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Talked?" The creature's confusion was genuine.

"We don't talk to food."

"I'm not food."

"Everything smaller is food. Everything bigger is enemy. You were small. Now you're enemy." The creature's logic was brutally simple.

"When you release me, I will tear your limbs off and eat you while you watch."

"Not the smartest thing to tell the person controlling your body," Adom pointed out.

"I don't lie. Not like ground-walkers. When I kill, I kill. No tricks." Adom sighed.

"Look where that got you. Three of you dead, and you—""They're dead because you used tricks. Unfair. Cheating."

"They're dead because you attacked something without knowing what it was capable of," Adom corrected.

"That's just poor strategy." The creature went silent for a moment. Adom felt its mind working, primitive but not stupid, wrestling with a concept that clearly didn't fit its worldview.

"We've always attacked anything that enters our hunting grounds," it finally said.

"Always worked before."

"Well, it didn't work this time."

"No." A strange sense of puzzlement filtered through the rage.

"It didn't." A pause.

"What are you?" it finally asked.

"I'm human," Adom said.

"A mage. From... very far away."

"Human," the creature repeated, as if tasting the word.

"Never heard of such a thing. Never smelled one before. You smell wrong. Like the air after lightning strikes."

"That would be the magic," Adom explained.

"The power I used against your brothers."

"It was my right to attack you," the creature insisted.

"You were in our territory. That is how it has always been."

"And it was my right to defend myself," Adom replied evenly.

"That's how it's always been for my kind too." Adom considered asking about the Stone-Singers or the dangers ahead, just as he had with Skyreacher. But the creature's resentment burned hot and unrelenting. Any information it provided would likely be designed to harm him.

"Let's keep flying," Adom said, pulling back from the deeper connection while maintaining his control. The creature didn't respond, but Adom caught its thoughts anyway—calculating how long until it could break free, imagining tearing him apart with almost childlike enthusiasm, replaying the deaths of its hunting partners with a mixture of confusion and fury. Some beings weren't worth talking to. The three peaks appeared much faster than Adom had anticipated.

His aerial mount cut through the morning air at speeds he could never have maintained with his own flight spell, covering in hours what would have taken days on foot. As they approached, Adom spotted what Skyreacher had described—a valley nestled between the mountains, with stone formations visible even from the air. Perfect circles of megalithic stones, arranged in patterns too deliberate to be natural.

"That's it," he muttered. The flying creature's thoughts remained a seething cauldron of rage beneath his control, but he felt its recognition. It knew this place.

"Have you changed your mind?" Adom asked, reopening the mental connection.

"About killing me when I release you?"

"No," it replied instantly.

"Will tear your soft parts out first. Then eyes. Then—""All right, I tried," Adom sighed, cutting off the gruesome details. He directed the creature to descend, spiraling down toward a clearing near the stone formations. As they dropped altitude, he got a better look at the surrounding landscape. The valley floor was mostly covered in strange vegetation—ferns with fronds as large as ship sails, bulbous pods that leaked colorful fluids, and twisting vines that seemed to track their movement.

What Skyreacher had called the Stone-Singers' ruins appeared to be located on the slope of what looked like a dormant volcano. Steam vented from fissures in several places, and the stone had the dark, glassy appearance of cooled lava flows.

"Land there," Adom commanded, pointing to a flat area about a hundred yards from the nearest stone circle. The creature fought him briefly, its wings stuttering mid-beat, but Adom's control held firm. They descended the final few feet, and Adom felt the satisfying solidity of ground beneath the creature's clawed feet. He slid off its back, maintaining the control threads as he stepped away. The creature's head swiveled to track him, yellow eyes gleaming with unmistakable malice.

Adom noticed something odd about the ground near where they'd landed. The vegetation seemed to be shifting, not with the wind, but with a purpose of its own. A cluster of what had appeared to be ordinary ferns were slowly, almost imperceptibly, extending toward the flying creature. He decided to say nothing.

"I'm going to release you now," Adom said, meeting the creature's gaze.

"You can fly away, or you can attack me. Your choice." The creature's thoughts were so focused on tearing him apart that it didn't notice the movement behind it. Adom severed the control threads with a quick gesture. The flying creature shrieked in triumph as it regained control of its body, launching itself toward him with frightening speed. It never reached him. The ferns exploded into motion, revealing themselves to be not plants at all, but camouflaged tentacles.

They whipped around the creature's body, wrapping around its wings and neck before it could even register what was happening. The flying predator screeched in shock as it was yanked backward. What had seemed like an ordinary patch of vegetation split open, revealing a gaping maw lined with acid-secreting nodules. The tentacles dragged the struggling creature toward the opening. Adom watched impassively as the plant-thing pulled its prey inside.

The flying creature fought viciously, slashing with claws and snapping with its toothed beak, but the tentacles just tightened their grip. Its mental voice screamed incoherently as it disappeared into the maw, which closed with a wet sound. The bulbous body of the plant-creature began to undulate as digestive acids went to work. Faint screeching could still be heard from inside. Adom raised his hand. [Fire Lance]. A concentrated spear of flame shot from his palm, striking the plant directly in its central mass.

The creature ballooned briefly before rupturing in a spray of fluid and partially digested remains. What was left of the flying creature tumbled onto the ground—its body already half-dissolved, skin sloughing off in sheets, one wing completely gone. It twitched once, then lay still. Adom walked past it without a second glance.

"Not the way I expected that to go," he muttered, "but efficient, I suppose." He turned his attention to the stone formations ahead, the real reason he'd come all this way. Adom approached the stone circle, his eyes immediately cataloging details. The megaliths weren't just big—they were enormous. Each stone stood at least forty feet tall, with bases wider than farm cottages. The scale made it instantly clear: this place hadn't been built by or for humans.

"Giants," he muttered, placing his hand against the nearest stone.

"The Stone-Singers." The stone felt oddly warm beneath his palm, despite the cool morning air. Its surface wasn't rough as he'd expected, but smooth, almost polished. Not by weather—this was deliberate craftsmanship. Adom walked the perimeter of the circle, counting twelve stones in total. Each had been positioned with mathematical precision, forming a perfect circle approximately two hundred feet in diameter.

The ground within the circle was different too—not dirt or grass, but a single massive slab of dark stone, seamlessly joined to the megaliths. But what really caught his attention were the runes. They covered every inch of the stones, spiraling from base to tip in intricate patterns. Some were familiar—variants of elemental markers he'd studied, power conduits similar to those used in modern enchantment. Others were completely alien, their forms following rules he couldn't begin to parse.

"Fascinating," he breathed, pulling out a notebook and sketching rapidly.

"Some of these are proto-forms of modern runic systems, but others..." He traced one particularly complex formation with his finger. It resembled a binding rune, but with strange offshoots that seemed to loop back on themselves. As a runicologist, Adom knew the basic approach to unknown rune systems: observation, documentation, controlled activation. The problem was that these weren't isolated runes on a lab specimen—they were part of an integrated system that had stood for millennia.

He moved to what appeared to be the primary stone—slightly larger than the others, positioned due north in the circle. Its runes were deeper, more precisely carved, and arranged in concentric bands rather than spirals. Adom recognized fragments—power flow indicators similar to those used in teleportation circles, stability anchors, and what might be spatial locks. But that made no sense according to the timeline. Teleportation did not exist until the Second Age. This was before the First Age...

Were giants this advanced?

"First principles," he reminded himself.

"When the function of a rune is unknown, controlled activation is the next step." The standard method was simple enough: introduce a small amount of mana to the primary flow point and observe the reaction. With intact rune systems, this typically produced a minor effect that revealed the rune's purpose without fully activating it. Adom located what appeared to be the input node—a circular depression at the base of the primary stone, surrounded by radiating lines like a stylized sun.

He placed his palm against it and took a deep breath.

"Here goes nothing," he said, and channeled a small pulse of Axis energy into the stone. The effect was immediate and nothing like he'd expected. The rune didn't just accept his energy—it pulled at it, drawing more than he'd intended to give. The lines around the input node flared with blue-white light that quickly spread to connected runes, then to adjacent ones.

"Whoa!" Adom yanked his hand back, but it was too late. The activation chain had begun. Light raced along the runes on the primary stone, then jumped to the others. Within seconds, the entire circle was illuminated, the runes pulsing in complex patterns that seemed to respond to one another. The ground beneath his feet vibrated. At first, he thought it was his imagination, but then small pebbles began to dance across the stone slab.

"Not good," Adom muttered, backing toward the edge of the circle. The vibration intensified, becoming a low rumble that he could feel in his chest. The light from the runes shifted from blue-white to a deep, resonant purple. Just outside the circle, the ground split open with a sound like tearing fabric. A fissure raced around the perimeter, widening as dirt and rocks tumbled into a growing void beneath. Adom leapt back as the edge crumbled where he'd been standing.

The entire stone circle was now surrounded by a widening chasm, isolating it on what appeared to be a massive stone platform that was slowly detaching from the surrounding earth.

"Definitely not good!" The rumbling grew louder, and Adom felt the platform shift beneath him. Not sinking, but... rising? He glanced around frantically, looking for a way off, but the gap was already too wide to jump. With a grinding sound that seemed to come from deep below, the platform began to ascend. Earth fell away from its edges, revealing not just a platform but the top of something much larger.

Stone walls emerged from the ground, rising like the battlements of a castle—if castles were built for beings five times human size. Windows tall enough to fit entire houses appeared as more of the structure pushed upward. Adom stared in disbelief as a building—no, a temple—rose from the earth. The stone circle wasn't a ruin; it was the roof of a structure that had been buried for who knew how long. And he was standing on top of it as it emerged. The ascent seemed to go on forever. Twenty feet, fifty, a hundred...

The temple continued to rise, revealing multiple levels, massive archways, and buttresses that could have supported mountains. When it finally stopped, Adom stood atop a structure that towered at least three hundred feet above the valley floor. The rumbling subsided. The light in the runes dimmed but didn't extinguish completely, now pulsing with a slow, steady rhythm like a heartbeat. Adom approached the edge cautiously and looked down.

What had been revealed was nothing short of monumental—a temple complex built on a scale that defied human architecture. Giant steps led up to massive doors on each side. Statues of beings with vaguely humanoid forms but impossible proportions flanked the entrances. Everything about it spoke of beings not just larger than humans, but fundamentally different in their relationship with space and proportion.

"The Stone-Singers," Adom whispered, awe momentarily overriding his scientific detachment.

"Their actual temple." He was curious, but if the interior was as heavily runed as the exterior, he'd need his full capacity before venturing inside. Adom settled cross-legged at the center of the stone circle, far from the edges, and prepared to meditate. Whatever secrets this place held had waited thousands of years—they could wait a few more hours while he replenished his reserves.

On another part of the Highlands...

"Say that again," Karion said, his friendly facade dropping entirely. His hand moved from Damus's chest to grip his collar. Damus's eyes narrowed a fraction—the most emotion anyone had seen from him all day.

"Okay, STOP!" Sam shouted, just as Karion's free hand curled into a fist and Damus's fingers began to trace what looked suspiciously like the beginning of a spell pattern. FWOOSH! A wave of force slammed into both boys, sending them skidding backward across the sand. Karion tumbled head over heels before landing in an ungraceful heap. Damus managed to stay on his feet, sliding to a stop several yards away, his hair disheveled. Everyone turned toward the source of the interruption.

Eren stood with both hands extended, blue-tinged mana still dissipating from his fingertips. His face was set in an uncharacteristically stern expression.

"That's enough," he said, voice firm.

"Both of you." A stunned silence fell over the camp. Naia's mouth hung slightly open. Gus had frozen mid-motion, a piece of driftwood still clutched in his hand. Mia's half-finished basket lay forgotten in her lap. Karion was the first to recover. He pushed himself up on one elbow, spitting sand from his mouth.

"Hey, Sam," he called, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"Didn't you say that guy was a first-year?" Sam winced, making frantic cutting motions with his hand toward Eren, who either didn't notice or chose to ignore them.

"Yeah, he is," Sam confirmed reluctantly.

"Eren, back off," Sam added in a lower voice.

"This isn't your—""It was about to get ugly," Eren cut him off, not backing down.

"And I'm not just going to sit there and watch while two classmates try to kill each other over... what exactly? Whose ego is bigger?" Karion climbed to his feet, brushing sand from his clothes. His initial anger had given way to curiosity, and now he was studying Eren with newfound interest.

"When I was a first-year, I definitely couldn't double-cast and send people flying with that kind of precision," Karion said.

"And you look a bit old for a first-year too." Damus had righted himself as well, calmly straightening his clothes. His eyes, however, remained fixed on Eren.

"I had a good teacher," Eren replied with a shrug, though his stance remained defensive.

"Let me guess," Gus chimed in, setting down his driftwood.

"Adom?"

"Among others, yeah," Eren said.

"Tch." Damus made a dismissive sound and started walking again, resuming his course toward the boundary markers. This time, it was Sam who moved to intercept him. He planted himself in Damus's path, much as Karion had done moments earlier, though with considerably more apprehension.

"Damus, please," Sam said, his voice low and urgent.

"You can't go out there. The fisherman wasn't exaggerating about the dangers." Damus stopped, regarding Sam with that same unreadable expression. Then, unexpectedly, he spoke.

"What kind of friend are you?" The question hung in the air, so unexpected that Sam blinked in confusion.

"What?"

"Is he not your best friend?" Damus continued.

"How could you let him go like that? To that place?" The question struck Sam like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Everyone was watching now, the tension having shifted to something else entirely—something more personal, more uncomfortable. Sam struggled to find words. He knew Adom's story, knew why his friend was special, knew what he was capable of. But he couldn't explain any of that to the others. Not without betraying confidences that weren't his to share.

"I... He..." Sam started, then faltered.

"Don't start your bullying here, Damus," Karion's voice cut through the awkward silence. He stepped forward, positioning himself beside Sam.

"Not everyone needs to justify their friendships to you." Damus's gaze shifted to Karion, his expression flat.

"Is that what you think is happening? Bullying?"

"You know, I've heard a lot of things about you and Adom," Karion said, eyes narrowing.

"How you used to be friends. Then one day, out of the blue, you turned on him. Became his bully." He took a step closer.

"So what the hell is your deal with all that? Are you actually worried about him, or is this some weird obsession?" Something dangerous flickered in Damus's eyes.

"Be careful, Dimitri."

"Or what?" Karion stepped even closer, the tension between them rising again.

"You'll give me the same treatment you gave Adom? I'd like to see you try." Eren sighed heavily. Naia moved forward, placing a hand on Karion's shoulder.

"Karion, stand down," she said firmly.

"I usually would listen to you, Naia," Karion replied without taking his eyes off Damus.

"But something about his face just makes me want to punch it."

"Wait!" Mia's voice cut through the tension. Everyone turned to look at her, surprised by her unusually sharp tone. Mia wasn't looking at any of them. She was staring at something in Sam's open pack, her expression confused.

"Sam, when did you pack that papaya?" she asked. Sam blinked at the abrupt change of subject.

"What? This morning, why?" Mia pointed.

"Look at it." Sam turned to his pack. The ripe, yellow papaya he'd carefully selected from the market that morning was now mottled with brown and black spots—the telltale signs of advanced decomposition.

"That's... not possible," Sam said, carefully lifting the fruit. The bottom half collapsed in his hand, revealing a pulpy, rotten interior.

"It was perfectly fresh when I packed it." Gus moved closer, examining the fruit with a frown.

"That's at least a week's worth of decay."

"The fruit was on the ground right there," Mia said, pointing to a spot near Sam's pack.

"That's part of the sandy area, not the rocks or jungle section." Naia's eyes widened in understanding.

"You think there's a time dilation zone? Here?"

"The Highlands are known for time distortions in the deeper regions," Eren said, momentarily forgetting the tension of moments earlier.

"But they're not supposed to affect the safe zones."

"Well, this papaya didn't rot in the last ten minutes on its own," Sam said, dropping the mushy fruit. Karion took a step back from Damus, his curiosity temporarily overriding his animosity.

"How small is the affected area?"

"Let's find out," Gus suggested, already pulling items from his own pack. He placed a fresh apple in the spot where the papaya had been, then set another one a few feet away. Everyone watched intently. After about thirty seconds, Gus checked both apples. The one in the suspected zone had already developed small brown spots. The control apple remained pristine.

"That's... not normal," Mia said quietly.

"It's a micro-zone," Naia realized.

"A pocket where time flows differently."

"If the time distortions are reaching the safe zones..." Sam began, then trailed off, his face paling.

"The effects from the deeper regions are spreading," Damus finished for him, his voice flat. Before anyone could respond, the ground beneath them trembled. It started as a subtle vibration, then intensified until sand was jumping on the beach and their gear rattled against the rocks. A deep, reverberating groan echoed from within the Highland interior—a sound like the earth itself was waking up. The blue lanterns marking the boundary flickered and swayed.

"What the hell?" Karion shouted over the noise. The tremor built to a crescendo, then subsided as abruptly as it had begun. In the silence that followed, everyone exchanged alarmed glances.

"Adom," they said in unison.