The sky above Dummer Continent dimmed to an ashen hue as the sea swallowed the horizon.
Asari stood silently at the edge of the ship's bow, wind tousling his white hair like threads of silver flame. Behind him, Aicha remained in her wheelchair, wrapped in a thick black cloak, her eyes locked on the endless waters ahead. The vessel creaked under shifting waves, its course set toward lands not marked on any map.
They had left it all behind.
The academy, the corpses, the eyes that once watched in fear.
Before them waited Velmara.
Aicha broke the silence. "That continent… you really believe the answers lie there?"
"No," Asari said softly. "I don't believe anything. I feel it."
He turned, meeting her gaze. His presence was different now—not colder, but heavier. Purpose clung to him like the sea's salt.
"The world's changing. I can't sit and wait for it to find me again."
Aicha nodded once. "Then I'll follow you."
Not a moment of doubt in her voice. Her trust had never wavered, not even once. That alone, Asari realized, was a strength he hadn't known he needed.
The ship continued its voyage, cutting through thickening mist and darkening waves. Time blurred. Somewhere along the way, the wind changed—warmer, wilder, scented with blood and blooming spores.
And then, Velmara appeared.
Jagged cliffs stabbed the sky, cloaked in a jungle so dense it devoured the sun. Mountains with fanged ridges towered in the distance. Roars echoed faintly from far too close.
The continent breathed.
No—watched.
Asari narrowed his eyes. "This place... it's alive."
They docked on a hidden shore where no settlement could be seen, only broken rocks and the sound of distant growling. Asari stepped off first, lifting Aicha gently in his arms and placing her on a flat boulder.
The moment his foot touched the soil, the earth pulsed beneath them.
A subtle tremor. Like a heartbeat. Not from the land—but something deeper.
"I don't like this," Aicha whispered. "It's too quiet."
"Not quiet," Asari said. "Listening."
A rustle. A hiss.
From the jungle edge, a creature crawled out—long, pale, and centipede-like, its mouth splitting across its side. No eyes. Just teeth.
Asari didn't blink.
He raised his hand, and reality cracked.
A shimmering tear opened beside him—like fractured glass hanging mid-air. From it, something emerged: a black glaive, jagged like a beast's fang, forged from cursed alloy and glowing softly with eldritch runes.
The domain had responded.
Aicha watched, breathless. She'd seen it once before, but here in Velmara, it shimmered differently—stronger. The land's primal magic had stirred it awake.
Asari vanished.
A blur of motion, a gust of wind—and the monster was cleaved in two, its cry never even escaping. Blood sizzled where it touched the cursed soil. Already, vines began pulling the corpse beneath the earth.
This land consumed everything.
Aicha shivered. "So… this is Velmara."
"No," Asari replied. "That was just the welcome mat."
Thunder growled—not in the sky, but beneath it.
From the treeline, an enormous tree shifted.
Not a tree—something wearing the shape of one.
Its bark peeled back slowly, revealing eyes.
Dozens.
They blinked. Watched.
Then closed again.
"Let's not stay here," Asari said. "We head north."
Aicha blinked. "Why north?"
He stared toward the dense jungle ahead. "Because that's where the strongest monsters live."
And with that, they moved.
Through twisted roots and warped foliage, through scents of iron and rot. The wheelchair bumped across the wild terrain, but Asari's movements were precise, never letting her jolt more than necessary.
"North" was a direction, but Velmara warped it.
They walked not on land, but on instinct. Paths changed behind them. Trees rearranged. Sounds echoed wrong.
After what felt like hours, they found a clearing.
A single altar stood at its center, ancient and cracked—yet pulsing faintly with a familiar energy.
Asari paused.
"…This is it," he murmured.
Aicha looked at him. "What is?"
"A mark. My master's connection to this land. The place where the domain's power can manifest fully."
He touched the altar.
Light pulsed.
The air shimmered—and a rift opened gently beside them, smoother this time. Not torn, but invited.
Through it shimmered a world of silver mist, floating isles, and rivers of pure light.
Aicha's eyes widened. "The domain…"
Asari nodded.
"It's changed. Here in Velmara, it's no longer a vault. It's a forge."
He wheeled her through, and the jungle vanished behind them.
Stars burned above. Stone platforms hovered in silence. The glaive hovered mid-air, calling him forward.
And when Asari stepped into the light—it began.
The domain tested him, whispering echoes of his master, visions of battle, of purpose. A torrent of techniques, knowledge, and forgotten truths surged into him, binding his soul and weapon tighter than before.
Minutes. Hours. A breath. A lifetime.
When the threads fell away, he stood taller.
Sharper.
Ready.
"I understand now," he said.
When they returned to Velmara's soil, the jungle was no longer empty.
Figures stood at the edge of the clearing—hooded, red-eyed, draped in bone and scaled skin.
They watched.
They judged.
Asari didn't draw his weapon.
Not yet.
"They know we're here," he said.
And then, without a word, the creatures stepped aside.
Welcoming them.
The journey into Velmara had begun.