Pain tore through Caelin’s ribs, the System-enhanced round burrowing into flesh, gnawing at his endurance. He turned, breath steady despite the damage. His HUD flickered—a long-delayed pop-up finally forcing itself into existence.
Enemy Identified Logan Stojanovi?, Warhound of Kael Class: Tactical Enforcer Level: 21 Faction: Kael’s Raiders
A low, rough chuckle from the warrior before him. Logan stood with his rifle still raised, watching Caelin absorb the shot. There was no hesitation in his stance, no fear—just the calculated assessment of a predator testing his prey.
Heat radiated from the battlefield fires, distorting the air between them. The scent of smoke, charred flesh, and gunpowder thickened every breath Caelin drew, a choking reminder of the chaos pressing in around him.
“Not the reaction I expected,” Logan rasped.
Caelin smiled, a thin curl of amusement despite the ache in his side. “I’ve been waiting for something like this.”
Logan squeezed the trigger again and Caelin moved.
Rounds tore through the air where he’d been, deflected mid-flight as his Soulblade snapped into motion. The shots weren’t wild. Logan was testing him, gauging speed, reaction time, seeing how close he could push his advantage before committing to the real fight.
Caelin closed the distance in a blink. Logan adjusted, the rifle disappeared into an inventory before he withdrew a short black blade in one smooth motion.
Weapon IdentifiedReaper’s Bane (System-Issued - Rare)A combat blade designed for eliminating enemies of the System. Forged to pierce armor and strike true, but lacks the raw stopping power of heavier weapons.
Logan flipped the blade once in his grip, shifting stance. The air between them thickened with anticipation, charged by tension and the faint metallic scent emanating from Logan’s newly drawn blade. Caelin felt the subtle vibration through his grip, the unmistakable resonance of a weapon designed specifically to kill beings like him.
“I earned this. Earned it in blood. You, your kind, represent everything that broke our world. Kael showed me what you really are. Parasites! Hiding behind the System’s power.”
Caelin’s grip tightened around his Soulblade. “Then let’s see if you deserve it.”
They moved.
The first clash was pure violence, steel shrieked as their blades met in a brutal collision. Sparks flared in the darkness. Caelin drove forward, twisting to carve an upward slash. Logan pivoted, rolling the strike off his guard, countering with a tight slash toward Caelin’s ribs.
A fraction too slow.
His HUD pulsed.
Tactical Edge (Passive) Active
The edge of Logan’s blade nicked flesh—Caelin hissed as blood welled, but he turned the pain into motion, twisting away, already switching styles mid-step. His grip adjusted—reverse stance, feint high, drop low—forcing Logan’s Tactical Edge to adapt.
Fine. Let’s see how well it holds up.
Caelin switched again. One-handed grips. Two-handed. A staggered flow that made no sense at a glance. Logan reacted, countering each movement, but Caelin saw the slight hesitations—fractions of seconds, moments where Tactical Edge had to catch up.
A rib shattered when Caelin kicked out unexpectedly, catching Logan in the chest and forcing the Warhound back and into one of the massive bones. Caelin kicked a shard up, caught it mid-spin, and thrust through Void-tainted bone forwards.
Logan twisted, barely avoiding the makeshift weapon. Caelin adjusted mid-strike, his blade cutting the air where Logan should have been—but the Warhound had used the shifting ribs to slingshot himself sideways. Not instinct. Calculation. Logan was thinking at his level, using the terrain just as efficiently.The terrain shifted unpredictably beneath them, bones cracking loudly under stress as Void energy tore at their structural integrity. Wisps of shadow and smoke swirled around their feet, making footing dangerously unstable with every movement, threatening to send either fighter sprawling into the chaos below. Caelin’s mind adjusted his battlefield map on the fly, recalibrating for variables that weren’t following System-patterned logic. A brutal knee to Caelin’s ribs followed, driving the breath from his lungs.
Pain flared white-hot, but Caelin ignored it.
He retaliated with a savage elbow to Logan’s jaw. Bone cracked. The Warhound staggered. The Soulblade met flesh—not a clean cut, but a jagged carve through reinforced muscle. Logan snarled, but Caelin felt it—the way the man tensed against the pain, forced his body to ignore the damage. His counter came just as viciously, a backhanded strike that Caelin barely slipped under. Blood sprayed between them, misting against the static charge in the air.
His HUD pulsed.
Pain Suppression Active
Caelin saw it. The micro-expressions. The tiny shifts of muscle tension, the way Logan’s stance altered just slightly. The pain was registering, it was just heavily suppressed. The ability wasn’t perfect. Not yet, but soon.
Void Grasp
Caelin activated Void Grasp, cancelling it the instant tendrils brushed Logan. The Warhound stumbled, slashing at the dissipating energy. Caelin still felt the Void’s touch tearing at him, memories unraveling into cold dread.
The temperature around them plunged sharply, frost briefly spreading over the exposed bones and fragments of Leviathan flesh. A ghostly chill pressed against Caelin’s skin, prickling his senses and adding an oppressive weight to the already hostile environment.
Logan’s blade lashed out. Caelin parried, driving Logan back. The battlefield around them shifted, bones, fading Void tendrils, it all shuddered as one. The Leviathan was breaking apart around them. The Leviathan’s remains shuddered, not like something dead but something being unmade. Caelin’s instincts took over, mapping the changes he could not consciously track. Logan was moving fast, but Caelin was already predicting where he would be, every shift in terrain accounted for in an instant.
Again, Caelin used Void Grasp to pull his opponent off balance, and again Logan was able to compensate.
“Kael warned us about you, said your kind ruin worlds. He wasn't wrong, look around, this is your legacy.”
His anger spiked. Focus slipped. Memory clashed with instinct, each hesitation punished. A flicker of movement, a counter too familiar, but the reason why slipped through his grasp like sand. A mistake followed. Another. His grip tightened in frustration. Logan wasn’t just matching him, he was ahead. The veteran wasn’t predictable, wasn’t locked into a rigid System-issued combat routine. He fought like a man who had survived real wars, not just ones dictated by experience pop-ups and System skills. Caelin was fast, stronger, more enhanced. But Logan was using those enhancements against him, redirecting force, countering every unnatural movement with something brutally efficient.
A Void fracture yawned open beneath Logan’s feet, the shifting terrain a treacherous enemy in its own right. Caelin saw the opening and lunged, aiming to drive Logan into the abyss, but the Warhound twisted mid-air, boots slamming against a dissolving rib. He kicked off, using the instability against Caelin instead, colliding with him in a devastating shoulder check.
Caelin fought for balance, fingers digging into the bone as the Void pulsed beneath him. He forced himself to breathe. Anger was clouding his thoughts, making him reckless. He needed control, he needed precision. He wrenched a jagged shard of bone from the Leviathan’s remains and flung it like a dagger. Logan dodged, but Caelin was already moving, leaping off a breaking vertebra, using the carcass’ Void instability to slingshot himself into Logan’s guard.
Logan vanished—a low roll into a sudden, snapping counter. Caelin barely twisted aside in time. Steel whispered past his throat.
Enough. He needed to break this advantage.
Caelin’s mind flashed—a buried instinct, a forgotten weapon.
Adaptation Engine Unlocked
The Adaptation Engine pop-up flashed. Caelin hesitated and Logan struck.
The Warhound lunged, driving his knife forward, forcing Caelin into a desperate block. The force of the strike sent Caelin sliding backward.
He adjusted his stance. Logan was still analyzing, still predicting, but Caelin had fought against worse—against things that shouldn’t exist.
He lashed out. Logan blocked.
He switched again—another style, another unpredictable movement.
Silent Reaping
Caelin broke up the flow of combat by activating another ability. He felt the cold fire flow down his arm and saw the scythe begin to form, reveling in the power it contained. Until the power rebounded. The scythe flickered in and out of existence before phasing out entirely, leaving him doubled over in agony. Three activations so close to each other, with the Detriment. He growled softly, it had been a bad move. Another mistake.
Draconic Soul Detriment: The ethereal scythe now draws additional power from Caelin, causing lingering phantom pain after use. Extended use risks causing the scythe to destabilize, dealing splash damage indiscriminately.
Caelin reeled as Logan’s short black dagger entered his stomach. The knife buried deep. Pain tore through him, but worse was the sense of familiarity. Not the pain itself—the mistake. He had done this before. Fallen into this exact opening. A lesson learned once before and forgotten. His past self had already solved this problem, but that solution was locked away, useless to him now. He gritted his teeth. Adapt. Survive. His breath rushed out, and he felt like he was being split in half. Logan withdrew the blade with a malicious flick that expanded the wound.
Caelin’s fingers curled around the dissolving bone beneath him, his grip tightening. He needed control. Precision. Logan wasn’t an unstoppable force—he was just another fighter. He inhaled sharply, centering himself, forcing the rising fury back into something usable.
His weapons dropped, vanishing before they hit the ground. Logan turned his back and walked away as Caelin fell to one knee.
His lips curled. He spat blood.
“Better…” Caelin coughed, “Better than I expected.”
The Warhound paused, but didn't turn around.
“Are you done?”
“Not even close.”
Logan turned and smiled down at Caelin.
Without warning Caelin sprang up, launching into a vicious exchange. Knuckles met ribs, met jaw, met flesh and bone. Caelin slammed Logan’s head against a shattered rib which shattered, the pieces left floating in a static Void field. The Warhound roared and threw Caelin into the Leviathan’s dissolving innards.
Caelin hit the ground, rolling, before springing back. Blood dripped down his chin. Logan wiped his own mouth, smearing red across his cheek. He spat blood onto the Void-stained ground.
“You fight like a damn animal.”
Caelin ran a hand over his bruised jaw. “And you fight like the System’s dog.”
Logan smiled wolfishly. “Warhound isn’t just a title. It was what they called me in the service. Stuck ever since.” He exhaled. “Kael, the leader of the Raiders, was my CO in the 2nd Commando Regiment. He could never remember my real name, so the name stuck.”
Another pop-up appeared.
Area Intel Acquired.
Kael, last name unknown Leader of Kael’s Raiders Former CO in the 2nd Commando Regiment (ADF) Further Information Unknown. Assess.
Caelin flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders as he walked between several ribs, creating some distance as his healing went to work.
The carcass trembled. The Void had been held back by the integrity of the beast’s body, but now, the fight had almost broken the little resistance it still had.
Logan pulled out his rifle and fired off several shots while his own wounds sealed. Caelin dropped a shoulder and slammed into one of the last ribs, rolled with it and came up swinging the makeshift club. Logan dodged and attempted to cut at the Caelin's thigh. Without warning Caelin swung again, this time when Logan stepped back, Caelin shifted his grip and put his weight behind the Void-infused bone, using it as a spear.
Logan's eyes went wide as the fractured end of the bone drove into his stomach and pushed him back into the inner wall of the carcass, forcing him up off the ground and deep into the partially dissolved flesh. The rib bone didn’t slide through cleanly—it fractured and splinters of Void-tainted marrow embedded themselves into the wound. The Warhound howled, fingers spasming as his body tried and failed to process the agony. Caelin twisted it deeper, feeling resistance as he carved through muscle and organs, forcing Logan further back into the dissolving carcass. Blood steamed where it met the tainted surface. Still the bone went deeper, the Void burned at his back and his insides, the Warhound howled in pain and anger.
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Pain Suppression Overwhelmed.
It hit Logan like a wall. A shuddering, brutal gasp. The kind of pain that doesn’t just hurt, but drowns. His knees buckled, a guttural noise escaping between clenched teeth. His body locked up, like a machine stripped of its safeguards, forced to endure damage it was never meant to sustain. But then—the shift. The roll of his shoulders. The set of his jaw. The moment his training kicked in. He wasn’t done. Caelin viciously twisted the bone, tearing up Logan's insides, causing blood to flow down the former soldier's clothing, which then dripped to his combat boots then to the trembling carcass below. The Void-infused insides of the Draconic Leviathan drank it up greedily.
Smoke rose in thin tendrils from Logan’s blood where it touched the Void-infused surface, the scent acrid and sharp. The air grew heavier with the stench of burnt flesh and sizzling blood, a sickening confirmation of the violent toll exacted by their fight.
Logan panted as the full force of his pain slammed into him. Void-tainted shrapnel still buried inside him burned and seared, compounding the collapse of his defenses. He lifted his rifle and aimed it at Caelin. At this range there was no way the Warhound would miss. Caelin released the rib bone and dove to the side, avoiding the rifle fire before taking shelter behind the last remaining rib, Caelin caught his breath. Snapping a look behind him when he heard another bone fracture, he saw Logan slam his rifle down on the blood stained rib bone until it shattered, releasing him from the carcass wall and causing the Warhound to be dropped to the now dissolving carcass.
“Is that… is that all you've got?” The Earth Native Original asked, barely able to get the words out past the pain.
Logan clutched at his ravaged stomach and grimaced. Caelin could see that the man was done, the fight had all but left him. Stepping out from behind the rib, Caelin spun the Soulblade in his hand while walking closer.
“I won't leave you to suffer, you don’t deserve that.”
Logan laughed, then sagged from the effort of it, the sound bubbled up from deep in his throat and came out wet. Blood spilt down his chin.
“This-” the Warhound staggered to his feet, still hunched over. “This isnt-”
Caelin cast Void Grasp, this time allowing the cast to complete.
Void Grasp
Logan screamed as the Void tendrils started to drag him back towards a Void fissure, then the Warhound made eye contact with Caelin.
A HUD notification flashed up.
Adrenaline Sure Activated
Before Caelin could react, Logan's booted foot snapped out and slammed into the side of his face, the hard tip shattered his cheek and distracted him enough that Void Grasp collapsed in on itself, merely flinging Logan backwards. The Warhound hit the carcass wall and slid down it. Screaming as he hit, then again as the Void once again seared the now exposed flesh of his back.
Wisps of black smoke rose from his seared skin, the stench of burning flesh filling the air sharply. Logan’s scream echoed off the Leviathan’s bones, distorted by the shifting Void field that vibrated through the entire carcass, amplifying the chaos around them.
Caelin shook his head, anger he couldn't remember ever feeling bubbled up, threatening to overflow. He exhaled sharply, but the breath was ragged, shaking. Not from exhaustion—from frustration. Instinct screamed. Memory faltered. He knew this. Had solved it once—but now, nothing. And Logan—Logan was capitalizing on it. Every mistake was punished, every hesitation exploited.
“Enough.”
The locked away memories taunted him, glimpses of solutions to his current predicament flashing past, faster than he could grab at them.
“This. Ends. Now.”
Adaptation Engine Activated.
Triggering dynamic combat responses…
Raw power surged into his veins—and collapsed just as fast. His body rebelled. His HUD glitched. It wasn’t just failure, it was failure when he needed it most. His fingers twitched as the burning backlash crawled up his spine. Logan saw it. The shift. The hesitation. And that was all he needed.
His HUD blurred, flickered, then flashed a warning that disappeared soon after he saw it.
Draconic Soul Detriment: The trait’s instability under Draconic influence was exacerbated by the battle. Adaptive responses now occasionally trigger conflicting or incomplete enhancements, causing minor physical strain or mental confusion.
Adaptive response unstable. Effect applied: Temporary Damage Amplification. Ability backfire detected.
Caelin staggered. Logan hesitated. They felt it at the same time—everything dulled.
He looked up, saw Logan standing tall and realised, not only had the ability failed, it had restored Logan’s Pain Suppression. The man had been all but out of the fight. Now… he looked terrible, but he wasn't in pain.
Caelin’s lips twisted in anger and Logan didn’t waste the opportunity. Pain flared in Caelin’s mind, memories splintered. Brief surges of panic clawed through him, leaving his mind frayed.
The Warhound lunged, driving his knife forward, forcing Caelin into a desperate block. The force of the strike sent Caelin sliding backward. He adjusted his stance. Logan was still analyzing, still predicting, but Caelin had fought against worse—against things that shouldn’t exist.
He lashed out. Logan blocked. He switched again,another style, another unpredictable movement.
Caelin surged forward, speeding up to charge..
Shadow Step.
Shadow Step infused the charge. Logan reacted a fraction too late.
The expected HUD notification popped up.
Draconic Soul Detriment: The repeated Void exposure during the battle has made this skill volatile. Each dash risks creating a spatial distortion that can misalign Caelin’s landing position, especially if chained rapidly.
They tore through the last of the Leviathan’s hide.
The Void exploded outward.
The battlefield collapsed.
The Leviathan’s husk gave one final, shuddering groan as reality fractured. The battlefield trembled violently beneath them, bones splintering and crumbling into nothingness. Void fissures expanded rapidly, hungrily consuming the surrounding debris. Each breath became harder, air tainted heavily with ash and the unsettling cold of encroaching oblivion. Void ruptures spider-webbed through the dissolving corpse, each one devouring more of the battlefield. Caelin didn’t slow, he pushed forward, past the crumbling vertebrae, past the last remnants of stable ground. Logan was right there, breath heavy, stance unshaken. They locked eyes. No words. No taunts. Just the understanding that only one of them would be walking away.
They stood, both bleeding, battered, but still alive. Smoke and embers swirled chaotically around them, drifting from distant fires and smoldering debris. Ash settled lightly onto their wounds, mixing unpleasantly with blood and sweat. The sky above was obscured entirely by layers of thick, choking smoke, reducing visibility to mere meters.
Logan exhaled. “Not bad.”
Caelin’s smile was bloody. “Not done.”
Fire raged around them, casting long shadows over the wreckage of derailed trains. Caelin dragged himself upright, wounds burning, blood dripping steadily onto the ground. Logan stood slowly, methodically, his gaze steady, controlled, betraying nothing even as fresh blood poured from his ruined abdomen, his insides exposed through torn muscle and skin, pooling darkly at his feet.
Logan didn’t lunge. He stood still, waiting, calculating, watching Caelin through hooded eyes. Caelin gritted his teeth, advanced cautiously, anger fueling every step. Without taking his eyes off the Warhound, he grabbed a length of twisted rebar protruding from rubble, hefted it like a spear, and hurled it toward Logan’s chest. Logan deflected the projectile with a swift flick of his blade but stumbled from the impact, fresh blood splashing the concrete.
Caelin moved in swiftly, capitalizing on Logan's misstep. Their blades collided violently, sparks flying. Logan retaliated with ruthless precision, blade slipping through Caelin’s guard to carve into his forearm. Caelin hissed, retaliating immediately by kicking a charred train door lying at their feet toward Logan’s Void-seared legs. The door slammed into Logan, knocking him back. Logan used his momentum to launch forward off one of the few metal poles that still stood, tackling Caelin heavily.
They grappled fiercely on the blood-stained ground, fists slamming brutally into ribs, faces, and necks. Logan’s fingers dug into Caelin’s open shoulder wound, ripping a strangled scream from him. In desperation, Caelin grasped a shard of glass from the debris presumably thrown clear as a train exploded and drove it deep into Logan’s exposed side. Blood spilled freely, thick and dark, but Logan showed no reaction other than a tightening of his jaw. The hot, coppery scent of blood thickened the already heavy air, adding to the oppressive atmosphere surrounding them. Caelin felt the sticky warmth coat his fingers, mingling with ash and grit from the shattered train wreckage beneath them.
The intensity escalated rapidly, their movements growing heavier, more desperate. Soon, they could no longer stand, collapsing onto their knees, still grappling viciously. Their blows slowed, but their brutality only increased. Caelin seized Logan by his blood-slick hair, repeatedly slamming his face into the broken concrete. Logan swung blindly, landing punishing blows that left Caelin’s vision hazy and ears ringing.
Caelin’s strength ebbed dangerously. With every heartbeat, the world seemed less real, his senses blurring. His body was failing. Logan's movements, however, grew sluggish, Pain Suppression appeared to be weakening quickly, both from new damage and the work it was doing to hold back the pain from his abdominal injury. Logan’s eyes widened slightly with mounting panic, recognizing the brief flickers of returning agony.
Driven by sheer survival instinct, Caelin triggered Adaptation Engine again in a desperate gamble.
A pop-up flared up in front of his eyes, bright and vibrant against the carnage around him.
Adaptation Engine Unlocked: Nullification Zone
Effect: Creates a suppression field within 50 meters. All System-granted abilities are forcibly disabled. Soul-bound functions and physical attributes remain active.
Duration: 15 seconds
Detriment: Users within the zone may experience memory corruption, HUD instability, or spiritual dissonance.
A HUD notification quickly followed:
Draconic Soul Detriment: The trait’s instability under Draconic influence was exacerbated by the battle. Adaptive responses now occasionally trigger conflicting or incomplete enhancements, causing minor physical strain or mental confusion.
Logan’s face contorted, agony fully returning as his Pain Suppression shattered. His scream echoed raw and unfiltered through the ruins, reverberating off twisted metal and crumbling stone. The air grew heavier, thickened by palpable agony as Logan doubled over, struggling desperately against the overwhelming pain. He gasped raggedly, eyes wild, doubling over from sheer, overwhelming pain. Caelin, barely holding consciousness, felt a memory surge sharply into his mind, vivid, piercingly clear.
He stood within the Soulspire, gripping the Soulblade for the first time, feeling the Fractured Echoes resonate within it, feeling them call out to the Fractured Soul within his own body. He had been born from that resonance—him, the blade, and… an Ethereal Blade, perfect in every way appeared in his off hand. He remembered feeling whole for the first time since his creation, since his forging deep within the Soulspire. A completeness he couldn’t remember feeling since, The Ethereal Blade part of him, just as it was part of the Soul Blade. Neither owed any allegiance to the System. Looking up he had seen the other Silenced Ones staring with covetous eyes at the Ethereal Blade, for the first and only time Caelin knew he had something that none of his brothers and sisters could claim. For the first and only time he was different.
.
Caelin felt the connection to his weapons flare brighter and stronger and, using what little stamina he had left he crashed into Logan. Again, their blades came together, Tactical Edge still very active. They looked at each other through their weapons, both hands shaking with the strain and Caelin saw the moment Logan’s trembling hand reached weakly toward his belt, drawing a handgun in a final, desperate act.
“You. Will. Not. Break us,” Logan panted out through laboured breaths.
Caelin reacted instinctively, the Ethereal Blade formed seamlessly in his grip, as it had since that first moment, as it always would. It severed the hand cleanly, sending it and the weathered weapon away in a spray of blood. Logan’s scream echoed sharply, raw agony overwhelming him.
Caelin drove upward, Soulblade piercing beneath Logan’s chin, shattering skull and piercing brain. Logan’s eyes widened, shock flickering briefly before dulling completely. Caelin drove the Ethereal Blade through Logan’s heart, ending it completely.
“Thank you, Warhound.”
Logan’s body slumped lifelessly, Caelin attempted to lower it to the bloody platform until he collapsed beside it, consciousness barely clinging. Blood poured freely from his battered form, severe wounds throbbing relentlessly.
Life’s voice whispered, chilling yet strangely comforting:
"What if I told you weakness was never your problem?" Life's voice slid through Caelin’s mind, soft as silk yet razor-sharp, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine.
Strength trickled slowly back, enough for Caelin to shakily retrieve Logan’s Soul Gem and a scrap of paper, both he pocketed quickly. Logan’s blade disappeared into the nearby Void Field, consumed instantly. Caelin then numbly tucked the handgun into his belt. Not a weapon, but a memento from a worthy warrior.
Caelin then dragged himself painfully out of the station, blood drained from his body with every metre until he crossed beyond the Ability Nullification Zone. Multiverse Healing resumed weakly, healing superficial wounds, but the deepest damage remained raw and urgent. Even focussing on the minor injuries it was strained to the limit. He had taken so much damage. A smile, blood stained and terrible, slowly worked its way onto his lips. But it has been a fight.
His HUD flashed clearly.
Additional Area Intel Acquired:
Subject: Dara (Surname Illegible on note)
Rank: Sergeant (Discharged – General: Honorable Conditions)
Level: Unknown (Original)
Former Affiliation: Australian Defence Force (ADF), 2nd Commando Regiment, Medical Corps Sergeant
Former CO: Kael (2nd Commando Regiment)
Current Status: Independent Survivor; High recruitment priority for Kael’s Raiders.
Additional Notes: Highly skilled healer and influential leader among surviving locals. Known associate of Logan Stojanovi? during military service. Potential ally or threat—assess carefully.
Caelin staggered forward, each step pure agony, his consciousness anchored only by grim determination. Dara was close, and she might be his last chance.
---------------------------------------------
Unique Traits:
Adaptation Engine (Passive Skill)
Triggers dynamic responses during challenges. Provides temporary buffs and evolved techniques.
Draconic Soul Detriment: The trait’s instability under Draconic influence was exacerbated by the battle. Adaptive responses now occasionally trigger conflicting or incomplete enhancements, causing minor physical strain or mental confusion.
System Granted Abilities:
Multiversal Healing (Passive - Regeneration)
The Multiverse does not tolerate stagnation. Through its vast, unknowable design, all who exist within its grasp are granted a fundamental restoration. Minor wounds seal swiftly, fractures knit together, and even grievous injuries fade over time. No invocation, no conscious effort—just the quiet inevitability of survival, written into the fabric of existence itself.
Silenced One Benefit: The System may have turned its gaze away, but even its discarded still follow its laws. For the Silenced Ones, Multiversal Healing does more than mend flesh—it restores what is bound to them. The Soulblade, the Cloak of the Reaper, the Armour of the Reaper—each reforged as if they had never been broken, each piece as relentless as the warrior who wields it.
Draconic Soul Detriment: But there are wounds the Multiverse will not touch. Damage inflicted by specific System-issued weapons fester. Major injuries inflicted by System-issued weapons do not heal naturally, tearing deeper with every moment left unattended. All wounds gain the Bleed Debuff, lesser injuries are fully restored, though far slower. The more that is lost, the longer the suffering lingers. To undo what has been done, only a Healing-Class Adventurer may intervene, but few would ever offer salvation to the condemned lest the System retaliates.
Area Intel:
Area Intel Acquired.
Kael, last name unknown Leader of Kael’s Raiders Former CO in the 2nd Commando Regiment (ADF) Further Information Unknown. Assess.
Subject: Dara (Surname Illegible on note)
Rank: Sergeant (Discharged – General: Honorable Conditions)
Level: Unknown (Original)
Former Affiliation: Australian Defence Force (ADF), 2nd Commando Regiment, Medical Corps Sergeant
Former CO: Kael (2nd Commando Regiment)
Current Status: Independent Survivor; High recruitment priority for Kael’s Raiders.
Possible outpost within range. Trace signal fragment: [Δ3/784G457].
Additional Notes: Highly skilled healer and influential leader among surviving locals. Known associate of Logan Stojanovi? during military service. Potential ally or threat, assess carefully.