Everything was cold.Too cold.
Kaz's breath hitched in his throat as the chill sank into his bones. He couldn't move—not properly. Something thick and invisible pressed around him like a coffin of ice.
Panic threatened to creep in, but he forced it down and whispered the name of his talisman.
Silent Marionette.
In an instant, the armor wrapped around him—tight cloth cinching over his torso, segmented plates locking into place over his chest and shoulders. Similar plating secured his lower body, forming a sleek and lightweight set of gear that felt almost like a second skin.
From his shoulders and thighs, clear, ghostly strings swayed gently in the still air—like he was dangling in the hands of some unseen puppeteer. The strings shimmered faintly, pulsing with ethereal light.
Beautiful.Deadly.His.
One of the armor's passive enchantments kicked in: twenty percent cold resistance.
It wasn't much, but the biting frost that threatened to lock up his joints eased just enough for him to breathe and stand.
Not a warm welcome.
But he was still alive.
And that counted for something.
Kaz couldn't breathe.
The cold pressed in from all sides, smothering him. Ice bit at his lungs, and the weight of the snow threatened to crush his chest. He thrashed weakly—limbs stiff, mind fogging—until a sharp thought cut through the panic:
This is snow. I'm buried.
With what strength he had, Kaz began to dig.
It was slow, brutal work. Every movement felt like pushing through wet cement. His fingers numbed, his limbs burned, and still, he clawed upward. After what felt like hours but was likely only seconds, his hand broke through to open air.
Kaz dragged himself free, coughing and gasping.
He tumbled onto the surface, armor slick with frost, knees buckling in the deep snow. The cold air sliced at his face, but he was free.
Barely standing, he looked around—and cursed under his breath.
Massive walls loomed on either side of him, rising into the grey sky like the jaws of some ancient beast. The stone was worn smooth by time and water, streaked with icy cyan and ribbons of sky blue. Nature's artistry—beautiful—and deadly.
A canyon.
But not just any canyon.
The Soulless Canyon.
Even a novice Kaz had heard the name whispered in survival lectures.
It was the worst place to be dropped.
A graveyard of the unprepared.
Of course he'd be dropped into an uncharted part of Eden.
Typical.
It also meant one thing—his Lineage Stone was somewhere out there in this realm. Waiting.
Contrary to what most believed, surviving Eden wasn't impossible. Leaving it wasn't, either—at least not for most. That's because most people spawned near Waystones—massive, ancient obelisks scattered across the realm that acted as gateways home. Hard to miss. Easy to use.
If you were lucky enough to be near one.
Kaz wasn't.
The challenge wasn't surviving Eden.The challenge was getting across it.
And so, he walked. There wasn't much else to do.
The Silent Marionette adjusted naturally to his movements, syncing with his pace. Underneath it, he still wore the standard-issue government jumpsuit they'd given him back at the academy. The armour was a little roomier because of it—but that was fine. It moved with him, not against him.
Snow crunched beneath his boots. The canyon stretched endlessly in both directions, sky-muted and hollow.
Kaz just kept walking.
Kaz had only been walking for a few minutes, but the fear was already gnawing at him. The cold bit into his skin, and the silence wrapped around his mind like a noose. Every crunch of snow beneath his feet made him flinch. Something could jump out at any second—he felt it in his bones. The anticipation was suffocating.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Kaz activated Chaos Search, a technique born from his Aspect of Chaos Control. The world warped subtly as threads of chaos spilled from his body, spreading in every direction like invisible smoke. Within seconds, he could see nearly two kilometers around him—sometimes more, if chaos was strong enough in the air.
Something was happening ahead.
Kaz saw movement—wild, violent. A figure was locked in battle against a Rift Beast, and the clash was vicious. The fighter had short black hair, olive-toned skin, and a distinct symbol etched into his armor talisman: the mark of the Eleven.
Kaz's eyes widened.
"Shit."
The Eleven weren't one of the big-name clans, but they were known for one thing—breeding monsters. Every generation, they raised exactly eleven warriors, training them relentlessly in the hopes that one would ascend to Emperor. If even one succeeded, the clan would earn a seat among the legendary bloodlines.
Kaz recognized the fighter now.
Lloyd of the Eleven.
He was the same one who had once tried to introduce himself to Ryuma… and nearly died for it. It was a brief, humiliating encounter Kaz would never forget. But seeing Lloyd now—seeing him move with power, purpose, and deadly precision—was something else entirely.
Kaz's Feature stirred inside him.
Being near someone like this—so dangerous, so explosive—would make his power thrive. That was the nature of chaos. And the Rift Beasts Lloyd was fighting? They were no joke. High-tier threats, the kind that could rip a novice apart in seconds.
This… this was going to be a hell of a day.
The creature was Evolved rank—just one tier above Novice—but that wasn't the true danger. Beneath the flaps of its massive wings, red lines pulsed like veins of fire. These weren't ordinary beasts. They were enormous, nightmarish, bat-like creatures with wings wide enough to blot out the sky.
But one among them stood apart.
Wrapped around its torso was a crimson strip, glowing faintly in the dark. A Sin Mark.
It bore the Sin of Pride.
Kaz's breath caught in his throat.
Pride-touched Rift Beasts were infamous. Their power grew relentlessly, constantly feeding on their own arrogance and hunger for domination. And while this monster was only classified as Evolved, its abilities had already surpassed that level.
By all accounts, it fought with the strength and aggression of a Demonic-rank beast—two full ranks higher.
That wasn't a fight.That was a massacre waiting to happen.