Thorne wiped his blade clean on the mossy hide of the beast, chest rising steady but not strained. His lips curved faintly as the familiar chimes rang in his head.

Skill Increased: Deadzone Reflex 7 → 9 Skill Increased: Burst of Speed 16 → 17 Skill Increased: Windborne Agility 6 → 7 Skill Increased: Aether Burst 22 → 23

He exhaled through his nose. "Better. But not enough."

The fight had been tougher than the last two, the beast stronger, its hide thicker, its strikes less predictable. He'd been forced to dip into some of his aetheric abilities, threadwork and surges to keep the tempo on his side. But in the end, the thing had gone down without ever truly pressing him. It hadn't been the battle he craved.

That didn't mean he'd come away unscathed.

He pulled off his cloak and tore it open at the shoulder. Three fresh slashes marked his skin, shallow but bleeding freely. Thorne uncorked Argessa's salve, the sharp herbal scent filling the air. He smeared it into the cuts, hissing as the paste burned like acid before it cooled to a dull numbness. Already, his body hummed with the familiar pull of Lunar Regeneration, knitting flesh back together thread by thread. But in this place, where every shadow hid teeth, he refused to gamble on natural healing alone.

When the bleeding dulled to nothing, he flexed his arm once and nodded. "Good enough."

He turned back to the carcass sprawled across the clearing. His aether vision lit the remains in subtle glows, pockets of concentrated magic pulsing like fireflies trapped in tar. Antlers gleaming faint silver. A gland behind the ribs swelling with liquid that shimmered green-black. Even fragments of bone radiated a faint thrum of value.

Thorne's grin sharpened. He spun a dagger once in his hand. "Alright. Let's see what you're hiding."

And then he set to work.

Thorne crouched beside the carcass, daggers glinting. His aether vision turned the corpse into a constellation of dim, pulsing lights. Each glow was a prize, if you knew how to cut for it.

He started with the horns. Once bone, now half-stone, they were veined with silver that shimmered faintly when touched. He braced the beast's head with one knee, then sawed carefully until the horn cracked free. It was heavier than it looked, and it thrummed in his palm like a tuning fork. Good for foci, or maybe just coin in the right hands.

Next, he turned his attention to the chest. Splitting hide this thick was work; the nullite dagger drank the light as it cut, slipping between ribs until the cavity opened. A thick, sour reek spilled out, blood that shimmered violet in the torchlight, too heavy, too alive even in death.

There. Nestled against the heart, a swollen gland pulsed faintly, its surface a translucent green-black. He slipped his blade under it, careful not to pierce the membrane. The gland writhed as though aware of him, the liquid inside shifting like oil and stars. He slid it into a glass vial before it could rupture. Catalyst for potions. Dangerous if brewed wrong. Deadly if ingested raw.

He moved on, following another flicker of light lower into the gut. A cluster of organs throbbed faintly with blue sparks, small nodules, no larger than teeth, scattered through the lining. He plucked them one by one, the sparks dimming as they left the body. Residual mana batteries. Weak, but stable. Useful for enchanting small trinkets.

The last was the bone. He pressed a hand to the femur and felt it vibrate faintly. With effort, he carved out a shard, blackened ivory streaked with veins of faint light. He ran his thumb over it, smiling. Nullbone. Rare. Alchemists pay in gold for even a splinter of this.

By the time he was finished, the beast was an empty husk, ribs yawning wide, light gone from its frame. He wiped his daggers on its hide, slipped the salvaged pieces into his enchanted bag, and tied it shut. The runes glowed faintly, swallowing the impossible bulk as if he'd dropped in nothing more than books and parchment.

Thorne stood, surveying his work. He wasn't just fighting now, he was profiting. Learning. Preparing.

He adjusted his cloak, eyes narrowing toward the dark line of trees. "That's three down." His grin came slow, sharp. "Let's see how long you can keep me entertained."

The deeper he went, the more the forest changed. The air thickened, heavy with scents both sweet and acrid, flowers that glowed faintly in the gloom and vines that pulsed like veins. Above, the canopy pressed tighter, weaving a ceiling of emerald-black that turned the moonlight into scattered, broken shards.

It was there, half-buried in roots and moss, that Thorne found the ruins.

A line of shattered pillars stood crooked among the trees, their stone blackened but etched with runes that still shimmered faintly when touched by his aether sight. Walls lay collapsed in heaps, ivy clawing over once-proud carvings of winged figures and beasts with too many eyes. A wide slab, broken down the middle, bore a spiral crest so worn it was nearly invisible.

Thorne crouched, brushing away damp moss with the edge of his glove. The stone felt old, older than Aetherhold, older maybe than magic itself. A civilization buried and forgotten, its only guardians the roots and the silence.

It was then he noticed the doorway.

Half-collapsed, its arch cracked down the middle, vines hanging like curtains, it barely looked like a passage at all. He pushed through, the crumbling stone brushing his shoulder, and found only more ruin beyond, fragments of walls, scattered slabs half-swallowed by earth, nothing to mark what this place had once been.

He was about to turn back when something caught his eye.

Near the center, where two broken walls met at an angle, the ground dipped unnaturally. At first glance it seemed like a sinkhole, but as he stepped closer, his aether vision showed otherwise. The edges weren't raw earth, they were stone. Paved stone, carved with sigils so old they seemed more etched into the world than into the rock. Spirals, jagged lines, shapes that twisted his gaze if he lingered too long.

The hole gaped downward into pure darkness. No sound rose from it, no breath of wind, no scent of soil. Just a heavy silence, as if the world below had been sealed away and forgotten.

Thorne crouched at the edge, peering in. His pulse thudded in his ears. Part of him, the same part that had carried him into Aetherhold, into every fight, every reckless decision, leaned forward. He could almost feel the call: step inside. Claim what's hidden.

His hand twitched toward Ashthorn.

And yet every instinct screamed the opposite.

Not now. Not ready. Whatever waited in that darkness, it wasn't some common relic or beast. It was something deeper. Something hungry. He felt it in the way the sigils pulsed faintly at the edge of his vision, as though recognizing him, marking him.

Thorne stood abruptly, brushing dust from his knees, and forced himself back a step. "Another time," he muttered, voice low. "When I can make it back out again."

The hole yawned silently at his retreat, patient, as though it had been waiting centuries and could wait centuries more.

But silence never lasted here.

The hairs along his arms prickled. Thorne stilled, listening.

Behind him, nothing. His veil sense flared, probing outward in an invisible net, but the sweep came back empty. No heat, no light, no aura. Just trees and ruins.

And yet.

Every few steps, he heard it. The faint scrape of something shifting, the hush of weight pressed against leaves. As if shadows themselves had decided to grow legs and follow.

He ignored it for now, forcing his shoulders to stay loose, his steps casual. Whoever, whatever it was, it would reveal itself soon enough.

That was when the ground trembled.

Thorne froze, his breath caught in his chest. Far off, deeper in the forest, came the steady thud of massive feet. Each impact rippled through the soil, rattling the ruined pillars at his side. Birds exploded from the treetops, shrieking. The pulse of the forest quickened, as if the entire place braced itself.

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Something enormous was moving out there.

Thorne straightened slowly, a grin spreading across his lips despite the pressure building in his chest.

"Well," he murmured. "That sounds promising."

The tremors grew heavier the deeper he pressed into the woods. Each one rolled through the soil like a drumbeat, rattling leaves from branches, unsettling birds that wheeled overhead with shrill cries. Thorne moved low, silent, weaving between roots thicker than houses.

And then he saw it.

The creature stepped into a clearing where moonlight spilled between cracks in the canopy. A troll, if troll was even the right word anymore. Twice the height of a man, its shoulders broad enough to carry a cart, its skin a mottled gray-green shot through with veins of pulsing aether. Thick cords of muscle bunched beneath its hide, every movement sluggish but unstoppable.

His veil sense pulsed.

[Trollborn Horror – Level 81]

Thorne's lips curved, though his chest tightened. Level eighty-one. And I thought the forest was holding out on me.

He knew what he was looking at. No spells, no bloodline talents, no clever tricks, but an enemy that the forest itself had steeped in magic until its body became an engine of survival. Trolls were infamous for their regeneration. This one, twisted by the Primordial Forest, would be worse. His daggers wouldn't be enough. His wand wouldn't be enough.

That was fine. Tonight wasn't about spells. It was about control.

He rolled his shoulders, centering his breath, drawing the ambient aether around him like a tide. The troll's head jerked, nostrils flaring, as though it could smell the shift. Its eyes locked onto him. A low rumble built in its throat, rolling into a roar that shook leaves from the canopy.

"Alright," Thorne murmured, sliding into stance. "Let's see how far I've come."

The troll charged.

The ground buckled under its weight, each step like a hammer striking stone. Thorne's eyes flared blue-white as he raised his hand, raw aether surging into shape. A blade flickered into being, unstable, humming, a ghost of steel made from sheer will. He let it phase, half-there, half-not, and sidestepped at the last instant.

The troll's fist came down like a falling boulder. Thorne's aether blade slipped through the flesh of its forearm, meeting no resistance until he snapped the shape solid inside.

The troll screamed as the blade burst outward, shredding veins and muscle from within. Black ichor sprayed, but even as Thorne leapt back, he saw the wound already closing, skin knitting, flesh bubbling like molten wax as it reformed.

So that's how it's going to be.

Thorne grinned, teeth bared. His blade dissolved into light, his hands already weaving the next construct.

This fight was going to kill him or teach him everything Marian promised.

The troll roared again, the sound so deep it rattled Thorne's ribs. It stomped forward, fists clenched, and swung a backhand wide enough to crush a horse.

Thorne didn't wait. He drew in the ambient aether, the air around him vibrating with power, then thrust his hand forward.

A beam of raw light lanced from his palm, cutting through the clearing like a lightning strike. It slammed into the troll's chest with a thunderclap, blasting it back into a tree. Bark and splinters rained down as the monster groaned, but when the smoke cleared the flesh was already knitting. The skin bubbled, then smoothed over, leaving behind only the faintest scorch mark.

"Good," Thorne muttered, eyes glowing. "You can take it."

The troll ripped the broken tree from the ground and hurled it like a spear. Deadzone Reflex flared, time stuttering for an instant. Thorne dropped low, rolling aside just as the trunk whistled past and shattered against the ruins behind him. He came up on one knee, both palms glowing, and unleashed another volley.

This time he didn't bother with precision. Lances of aether tore into the troll's thigh, exploding in bursts that sent chunks of flesh flying. For a heartbeat, the beast staggered, ichor dripping into the soil. Then, impossibly, the wounds sealed, veins reweaving before his eyes.

"Of course," Thorne hissed.

The troll charged. Thorne vaulted upward, stamping on a solidified step of aether that appeared midair beneath his boot. Another, and another, climbing invisible stairs until he was ten meters up. The troll swiped at him, missed, and tore through the branches instead. Thorne drew the aether tight, shaping it into a ball that hummed like a hornet's nest.

He dropped it.

The explosion lit the clearing like dawn, the shockwave hurling the troll onto its back. Leaves shredded from the canopy, the earth cratered, and Thorne's cloak snapped in the hot wind. He landed lightly, Windborne Agility softening his fall, eyes locked on the writhing shape below.

The troll sat up, half its face missing. For a moment, Thorne thought he'd done it. Then the skin writhed like molten tar, bone cracking back into place, and the monster's lips peeled into a grotesque grin.

It lunged faster than he expected. One massive arm swept the ground and caught him.

Pain detonated through his ribs as he was swatted into a boulder. The stone cracked around him, air knocked from his lungs. He coughed blood, vision swimming, as the troll bore down on him.

"Alright…" he wheezed, pushing to his feet, one hand pressed to his side. His grin returned, sharp and bloody. "You hit harder than most."

He raised Ashthorn, aether already surging at his call. Beams, lances, bursts, he'd throw everything he had until this forest monster either stayed down or broke him first.

The troll roared again, saliva spraying from tusked jaws. It stomped forward, the ground heaving under its bulk.

Thorne answered with a snap of his wrist. The air solidified, a jagged spear of blue-white aether tearing free and hurtling toward the beast's chest. The troll swatted it aside as though it were driftwood.

He didn't pause. More lances followed, three, five, a dozen, each flickering into existence and streaking like comets. They ripped across the clearing in a storm of light, blasting into its chest, shoulders, gut. The troll staggered, ichor splashing, but the wounds closed almost as fast as he opened them.

Its eyes locked on him. It charged.

Thorne threw himself upward, stamping on an invisible step of solid aether. Another formed beneath his boot, then another, until he was climbing an unseen staircase into the air. The troll swung a massive hand through the space he'd just vacated, claws cutting deep grooves into the dirt.

"Too slow," Thorne muttered. He spread his arms wide.

Ambient aether gathered between his palms, unstable, volatile. He compressed it tighter, tighter, until the shape trembled violently in his hands, then hurled it down.

The blast swallowed the clearing. Semi-solid aether detonated with a thunderclap, a shockwave flattening the trees at the edges. The troll howled, its body hurled sideways, one arm sheared nearly in half. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air.

Thorne landed lightly, Windborne Agility rolling the fall into a crouch. He straightened, eyes glowing, lips curving.

But even as he watched, the troll shuddered. Its half-destroyed arm bubbled and stretched, ligaments knitting, bone reforming. Within seconds, the limb was whole again, flexing as though nothing had happened.

"Of course," Thorne hissed.

The beast swung both fists into the ground. The earth cracked, soil and stone geysering upward. Thorne leapt, invisible steps flickering underfoot, but a chunk of rock still clipped his shoulder. Pain tore through him, his vision flashing.

The troll lunged into the gap, catching him mid-air with its massive hand. The world spun, and then, impact. Thorne slammed into the ground hard enough to crater it, air ripped from his lungs. His ribs screamed.

He coughed blood, spat, and slammed both palms into the soil. Ambient aether surged, turning the earth beneath the troll into liquid. The beast roared in shock as its legs sank thigh-deep into the ground, its massive arms flailing to haul itself free.

Thorne's grin was bloody, feral. He raised his hand, drawing aether into a blade that extended from his palm like a luminous saber. He dashed forward, Deadzone Reflex flaring as the troll swung in desperation. Time stuttered, he slipped past the blow, the aether blade slicing deep into its thigh.

The troll howled, collapsing onto one knee.

Thorne slammed another unstable sphere into its chest. The explosion hurled him backward, branches tearing at his cloak, but when he staggered upright, the troll was still moving, its chest a gaping wound that was already writhing shut.

For the first time, Thorne's smile faltered.

"You just don't quit, do you?"

The troll roared back at him, louder than before, its regeneration faster now, almost furious.

Thorne's chest rose and fell in ragged rhythm. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, straightened, and called the aether again. This was what he'd come here for, not victory, not an easy kill. A fight that would push him past his limits.

And this troll was happy to oblige.

Thorne drew a deep breath, feeling the air thicken with power.

He spread his arms wide, calling, not to his core, but to the world itself. The forest answered.

Ambient aether bled from the trees, tore itself from the roots, seeped out of the stone beneath his boots. The very air thickened as every mote was drawn toward him, coiling in hungry spirals that whipped his cloak and made the ground shiver. Power gathered around him in a sphere that grew denser, brighter, more violent with each heartbeat, until it seethed with catastrophic potential.

His teeth clenched, sweat stinging his eyes. It took everything he had to keep the maelstrom in check, every fragment of will bent toward holding it together. Still, the aether came, more and more, drawn to him in an endless flood, straining the edges of his control.

The sphere trembled, boiling, space itself warping as though it would collapse.

"Enough," Thorne snarled, and released it.

The world ripped apart.

The explosion bloomed outward from him, the epicenter of the storm. Light and fire tore across the clearing, consuming all in its path. Stone vaporized, trees disintegrated, the very ground peeled back in rings of molten glass. The forest howled as though wounded, air and earth alike annihilated in a single instant of Elderborn fury.

For a long, shuddering heartbeat, there was only sound, thunder tearing itself apart, followed by silence heavy enough to crush.

When the smoke cleared, Thorne's boots crunched through blackened earth. His chest rose and fell, sweat beading his brow. He raised his head and froze.

The troll still stood.

Half of its body was gone. Its chest a cavern of shattered ribs, its front seared down to exposed skeleton. One arm vaporized. One leg half-missing. Half its head burned away, the remaining eye glaring through smoke and ruin. And still, impossibly, it clung to life, swaying on ruined limbs.

"That's not fair," Thorne muttered, voice sharp and low.

The beast shuddered. Bone cracked. Flesh bubbled like molten wax. Muscles twisted, veins crawled, knitting together. Slowly, horribly, the skeleton was clothed again in sinew and skin. The head reformed, teeth grinding as the jaw locked back into place. A new arm sprouted from the torn socket, fingers flexing as if mocking him.

Thorne's lips peeled back into a snarl.

He called, and the aether came.

It rushed to him like loyal subjects, blanketing his body, pooling at his feet, coiling around his arms. His hair lifted in the storm of it, his cloak snapping in the sudden gale. His eyes shone with raw brilliance, white-blue twin suns in the gloom.

Aether Surge.

The world tilted. His heartbeat slowed, his veins sang. Aether flooded him until his body felt too small to contain it. He streaked forward, Burst of Speed exploding from his heels, leaving the ground shattered where he'd stood.

Power gathered in his hands, swirling, snarling, a maelstrom of raw force given form. His eyes locked on the single vulnerable spot, the troll's core, now faintly visible in the ruin of its half-reconstructed chest, glowing like a furnace through torn flesh.

Thorne's jaw tightened, his entire body driving forward like a spear.

The troll raised its arms to meet him.

And that was where the night ended.

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