[Kassan's Subplot] The cellar reeked of mold and rat carcasses. Kassan kicked aside a silverfish gnawing at the journal. Raine's logbook was stranger than she'd imagined—golden patterns shimmered on its pages, burning her fingertips upon touch.
"Frost wolf runes from the northern tundra? Or swamp witch glyphs?" She adjusted the oil lamp, her tribal tattoo searing. The Elder's "Hawksight" marking only flared when touching forbidden lore.
Scribbles on page three writhed alive. Crude battle maps twisted into scale-like patterns. Kassan's pupils contracted—these weren't human letters. Each curve was a miniature dragon.
"By star veins... bound in blood..." She chanted unbidden, fingers bleeding. As blood droplets hit the page, the journal levitated, projecting a hologram:
A silver-haired woman in dragonbone armor knelt before an altar, clutching a black-glowing egg. Twelve knights emerged from shadows—their armor identical to Herman's mithril shackles.
The image distorted. Kassan's nose bled as she stumbled back, knocking over the lamp. Flames engulfed the journal, but not before she glimpsed final words:
"The Sacred Egg lies..."
The cellar trembled. Plaster rained down as bootsteps echoed. Kassan shoved charred pages into her breastplate and pressed against the door—too regimented for drunk soldiers.
"In the Light's name, search for heretics!"
[Brander's Interrogation] Brander awoke hanging upside-down in the relic vault. Tar and rot stung his nostrils, but nothing compared to his missing leg.
"Y' mother-sucking... cowards..." He spat through broken teeth. "Face me... upright..."
A silver knight emerged, axe dripping. "Your captain runs well." The blade tapped Brander's remaining leg. "Who are his heretic contacts?"
The veteran's bloody phlegm hit the visor. "He beds... yer mothers..."
The axe swung. Brander twisted, chains snaring the knight's neck. They crashed down, rolling until spears pierced his shoulders.
"Had enough?" Brander grinned through blood. "I gutted prettier tin cans..."
Herman's staff touched his forehead. "Must you resist? You hear his screams." The High Inquisitor snapped fingers. Oleg's mutated corpse—now with a scorpion tail—was dragged in.
"Join our evolution. Or feed them." Herman's eyes split into facets.
Brander stared at the half-scorpion priest and laughed. "Evolution? Yer maggot-riddled fucks!" He lunged, letting the staff impale him to bite Herman's wrist.
When knights swarmed in, Brander was gone. But Herman glared at his bleeding wrist—imprinted with dragon-scale marks.
[Soul-Eater's Origin] As Raine crawled through sewers, bioluminescent mold ignited. Touching the fungi, fractured memories surged:
Iron Anvil Lab – Five Years Prior A younger Oleg adjusted spectacles,狂热. "Seventh batch survival rate: 12%!"
Cages held wolf-human hybrids. A wolf-headed creature recited prayers, then tore through bars to maul a technician.
"More sacred blood required!" Herman's voice echoed. The not-yet-mutated inquisitor had only scaly patches.
Memory shifted. Raine saw his mother—the Dragon Queen chained to an altar. Herman sawed off her arm. As the limb splashed into a vat, wolf embryos grew scales...
Present-day Raine retched violently. The mold pulsed in sync with his arm's scales.