Chapter 425 - Oncoming Storm

Thanks for waiting.

Hump rolled the amulet between his fingers as he walked with his party through the treasury of the gorger. The metal was cool and impossibly smooth. It was a complex piece—an essence stone suspended at its heart, faintly glowing with green light, held between six intertwined rings of silver. The design was mesmerising, the rings woven together so seamlessly it was difficult to tell where one ended and another began. The essence from it was faint, yet somehow, Hump was unable to reach through the rings to touch the essence stone at the centre. There wasn’t a barrier as such. Rather, it was like trying to touch two magnets of the same nature together—his finger would be pushed to the side, sliding away with ease.

The rings themselves were inscribed with runes that resembled both god glyphs and the Alveronian runes Hump was most familiar with. While he couldn’t understand them fully, he recognised a few of the markings. Whoever designed it couldn’t have used a system much different to his own, but no matter how hard he tried, Hump couldn’t find a way to activate it. he would worm his essence into the runes, feel like he was making progress, only to find his essence dissipating. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.

What he did know was that this magic was similar enough to his own for it to be possible, he just needed to figure it out. Given time, he could crack it. Unfortunately, time was running short.

The expedition was nearly done looting the gorger’s treasure, and before long, the amulet would need to be surrendered with everything else. In truth, he was lucky nobody had taken it from his already. The Chosen were oddly cautious of the dead goddess—all of them giving her a wide berth as if they truly feared she might be cursed.

They’d made short work of the job. Nobles and Chosen might think themselves better than the rest, but Hump saw that same gleam in their eyes as he had thieves assaulting a wagon train.

“How are we supposed to pick from all this?” Bud said, picking out a tool hammer from a heap of relics scattered over a table. It looked to be made from steal, a rune marked on one side of the hammerhead, or perhaps that was a maker’s mark. “There’s too much.”

“You’re overthinking this,” Dylan said, sifting through a pile of trinkets. “Look for anything unfamiliar—things that look like they belong to the people of this world.” He held up a set of wooden rings, each polished to a glassy sheen, the wood infused with faint, swirling lines of essence. “Look at these. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

Bud studied them with raised brows. “Erm… no, I suppose not.”

Hump had to bite back a laugh at Bud’s bewildered expression. He could see it in his eyes, the same question Hump had. What good were a few wooden rings?

“It’s not a bad suggestion,” Emilia said. “Look for things that stand out. There’s probably a reason they do.”

Hump turned the amulet over in his palm. The weight of it felt significant—more than just metal and stone. He held it up to the others. “Shame we can’t keep any of this stuff.”

Bud gave him a look. “We’re not going down that route of conversation. There’s probably someone here with ears as good as Celaine’s.”

“Doubtful,” Hump said. “She’s got great ears.”

“Stop talking about my ears,” Celaine said over her shoulder, causing Hump to smile.

“I just think it’s ridiculous we have to hand all this over,” Hump said. “We’re adventurers. We came here as part of a mission, and from the start, we were told we could keep what we found. That shouldn’t change just because we struck gold.”

“Everything will be divvied up at the end. Rewards will be handed out properly,” Bud said firmly.

Hump sighed but let the matter drop. While he didn’t need the money anymore, it was simply too tempting.

They continued their search, combing through the remnants of another world, sifting through weapons dulled by time, shattered relics, and faded tomes with text long since lost. Many were completely ordinary, while others may have once been artifacts, but the essence and intent had long since been lost from them, leaving only a few pieces that would be of value. Nothing caught Hump’s eye, however. It was insignificant compared to the amulet he’d recovered, though it would be useful as research material to better understand the workings of this realm. When they found something that might work, they secured it within either Hump’s or Celaine’s storage artifacts.

***

A breakthrough came a while later. One of the Chosen of Osidium located a tunnel hidden on the other side of a solid wall. Marshal Anara had the whole force gather before breaking through. A precaution, but an unnecessary one. Inside, they found a tunnel leading down. The walls were perfectly smooth, likely carved out by the dead gorger’s magic as it practically swam through stone and earth.

“Are there any trap experts willing to volunteer?” Anara asked.

A hand went up—Randall’s hand. Certainly not someone Hump considered an expert in traps in any sense of the word. “Skander can do it.”

Hump smirked, pressing his lips tightly together. Ah, of course he was volunteering someone else.

Skander stepped forward without complaint.

“You’ll take the lead,” Anara said. “I’ll have blessings on you to protect you in case anything unexpected comes along. Wizard Humphrey, I want you ready to bring the roof down if he’s attacked. Can you do that?”

A woman stepped forward—wearing the yellow robes of the Chosen of Osidium, but she was from the support party of another squad. “Marshal, allow me.”

Anara shook her head. “This space is narrow, and I’ve worked with Wizard Humphrey in the past. I need to know who I’m working with.” The woman frowned in indignation, but Anara was already turning to Hump. “Are you good with that?”

“Of course,” Hump said. “More than happy to assist. You stay with Celaine, Nisha.”

“Good.” Anara said. “Everyone not involved, continue the search up here.”

“Wish me luck,” Skander said glumly as he wriggled into the tunnel on his belly. Anara’s flowers nestled in his hair and black leathers, adorning him in pink petals.

“You don’t need luck,” Hump said. “You’re looking so pretty they’ll be charmed, I’m sure.”

“Hah,” Skander barked a laugh. “You’ve got a point. I’ll see you both in a few.”

The rogue called back regularly, updating them on his progress down into the tunnel. Turned out, Anara’s decision to send in someone good with traps had been a good one. The entire tunnel was laced with them. It took about twenty minutes before Skander gave them all clear, at which point, Anara gathered the rest of her party to accompany her.

Hump found himself a tagalong to the group. It seemed she wanted a wizard’s perspective, for what good it would do. Hump was forced to leave his staff behind due to the narrow space, requiring him to crawl on his stomach. It was a tight space. He wasn’t usually bothered by such things, but with a man following behind him and another in front, it certainly wasn’t pleasant. And that wasn’t even considering that Skander may have missed something.

One arm in front of the other, Hump told himself. He crawled for about a minute before clambering out of the tunnel into what seemed to be the gorger’s personal quarters.

It was far smaller than the treasury, but immediately Hump sensed that much of what was here possessed power. Artifacts were stacked around the space, stored away in dugouts in the walls, and hanging from the stone in a decorative fashion. It was strange to see how a gorger might decorate. The one at Fishers Lake hadn’t seemed to care for such things, but this one had dragged down all sorts of colourful items to adorn its walls. Tabards of all sorts of colours and designs, flags, cloaks, and a huge amount of jewelry. Essence stones shone from all kinds of artifacts, illuminating the room in many colours of light. This wasn’t simply treasure—it was possession.

Hump left the larger artifacts to the others and focusing more on the many books and scrolls the gorger had on its walls. He’d never considered the creatures intelligent enough for such things. In fact, judging from his encounter, he was almost sure the gorger didn’t have the capacity to study such tomes. It made Hump wonder if these were relics from before the gorger had fully lost itself. Once, it must have been an intelligent spirit, before its soul had been warped by feasting upon others, and hunger had consumed its mind.

As he sifted through the various books, fingers trailing over pages that had long since turned brittle, he came to something toward the bottom of a stone shelf. A scroll that had survived the passing of time.

He unrolled it carefully, the parchment old but remarkably well-preserved. As he spread it it open in the air, his eyes lit up as he realised he’d found a map of the Remnant Realm as it once was.

“Marshal, you should see this,” Hump said, taking the map to the stone table at the rear of the room and spreading it flat.

The group joined him, studying the parchment at Hump’s side. Lush forests spanned the landscape where now only dust remained. Rivers twisted through valleys. The land looked much like Alveron, but far smaller, and drastically different in a few locations. To the south, no oceans marked the borders. Instead, large rivers fed into the lands beyond, spanned by land bridged that connected this place to what must have been Nilesh to the south. Islands dotted the waterways, spread out along what would have been Alveron’s coast.

And across all of it were cities, fortresses, and settlements marked in careful detail. Wizard temples stood at key points, forming a circle that stretched around the land, from Fort Nordric to Elenvine, linking everything together.

“The detail is astounding,” Anara said. Excitement rippled through the group. Hump could see it in their faces, the weight of the discovery sinking in. “With this, we can direct our search.”

“This is a large map,” another said. “We could search for years and still not check every location.”

“No,” Anara said. “But no longer will we wander blindly through the Remnant Realm. One of these places is likely the warlock stronghold. In this realm of nothing, they would have found a place that remained. A fortress, stronghold… anything. We find that, and we find them.”

***

While Marshal Anara conducted a final sweep of the treasury before their departure, Hump caught his own party up on the findings below. It wasn’t long before the expedition force was ready to leave, but for one topic.

“We should return her to Alveron,” one of the priests insisted. “She must be burned. Cleansed.”

For all the value of the artifacts they’d gathered, it was the fallen goddess who stirred the most debate.

Anara exhaled, the weariness evident in her posture as she studied the lifeless deity before them. “She’s been here a thousand years. We cannot take her with us now. Disturbing her remains in this place would put the entire expedition in danger. There’s no telling what might happen if we burn her here, but I’d wager every shade for a hundred miles would come for us.”

“The gods will not approve of this,” the priest argued. “She is the enemy. We must be rid of her.”

“Then they’ll have to wait a little longer.” Anara’s voice was final. “We leave her here, undisturbed.”

Hump watched the exchange in silence, his thoughts churning. If the Pantheon had sent their wrath upon this village, then this goddess had been one of their enemies. He remembered the sickly weight of Osidium’s essence in her petrified arm, the undeniable proof of another god’s involvement. Had she fought against them? Had she been abandoned?

A divine war. A massacre.

And if this village had been protected by her, how many more had been left defenseless?

His grip tightened around his staff. He struggled to imagine the scale of destruction that must have swept across this world, reducing it to ruin. And now, here they were, sifting through the bones of the past.

The discussion was over. The vault doors were unsealed, groaning as they swung open. A gust of dry air rushed in as the expedition stepped back out into the village.

And then… a stillness.

Celaine’s hand shot to her bow. “Oh no.”

Hump turned to her, brows knitting. “What is it?”

A murmur of unease spread through the ranks. Every single locator beacon on their belts was glowing.

Havard’s party had signaled them.

Hump’s stomach twisted as his gaze swept the ruined village. Something was wrong. The shades were moving—but not as they had before. There was no battle frenzy, no hunger for essence. Instead, they drifted, rising slowly, as if drawn by some unseen force, leaving the once packed streets almost empty.

“What’s going on?” Anara asked, turning to Marcela. “Did your squad encounter this before?”

Marcela’s expression was grim as she scanned the shifting darkness. “No. Randall, Hump, anything like this?”

Randall shook his head. “Not once.”

“Me neither,” Hump admitted. “I’ve never seen them act this way.”

A cold realisation settled over them all. Something was deeply, fundamentally wrong.

Anara made the call. “We group with Havard’s squad. Move.”

They made swift progress through the empty streets, boots soft against the stone. Each of them was silent, but there was little need for it. The shades had no interest in them now but were instead drawn upward, leaving the village feeling entirely abandoned.

At the fissure’s edge, Havard stood waiting, his expression grim.

“Did you not see my alert?” he demanded, eyes darting between them.

Anara’s frown deepened. “We didn’t. The vault must have cut it off.”

Havard wasted no time. He lifted his arm and pointed toward the horizon. “A storm is coming. A great cloud of dust, surging this way. And there is essence in it.”

Hump followed his line of sight.

The breath left his lungs.

A monstrous wall of sand loomed on the horizon, stretching across the sky like the hand of a god. It churned and twisted with unnatural force, lightning crackling within its depths. The flashes of energy illuminated something beyond just dust—there were shapes in there, vast and shifting, their outlines barely visible in the chaos.

“How is this possible?” Hump muttered to his own party, gawking up at the great storm. “This place shouldn’t be able to produce weather like that. There’s essence in it.”

He could feel it pulsing like a living thing, thick with power. This was nothing like the dust squalls they’d encountered before. If this hit them, they’d be done.