The air of the Tigerwood Forest felt thin and brittle compared to the viscous thermal density of the subterranean hub. Kale Ardentis stood on the very patch of moss where the ground had unzipped just hours earlier, yet there was no trace of the calamity.
The grass was vibrant and untouched; the ancient roots showed no signs of the structural collapse that had swallowed him and his beast into the Buried Reaches.
It was as if the world had performed a surgical correction, deleting the evidence of his descent into the shadow of a dying monarchy.
Kale looked down at his hands, which were no longer charred bone but pristine flesh reinforced by the essence of an Ancient rank core. He could feel the biological discord within his frame settling into a new and terrifying equilibrium.
His fire affinity had reached 89%, a number that would have made the elementalists of the capital choke on their own mana.
