A few minutes ago, just as Michael had decided to go after what he suspected was the source of infection, the whole realm suddenly started shaking violently.
Though it lasted only a short moment, the impression it left behind was heavy. The crystal veins beneath the ground had flared, pulsing brighter than before, as if something deep within the ruin had awakened.
It had stopped quickly.
But what followed was far worse.
Both Michael and Arianne watched as dozens of participants like them ran like madmen toward a certain familiar direction.
The same direction Cedric, Lucien, and Alaric had gone.
The same direction every infected individual had been drawn.
They did not run with discipline or coordination. They ran with desperation. Some stumbled and fell, only to force themselves back to their feet immediately. Others ignored wounds that would have crippled a normal person. Blood trailed behind them in thin streaks across the crystal-veined ground.
It was as if something had called them.
Michael’s eyes narrowed.
This was different from before.
Previously, they had walked like puppets guided by invisible threads.
Now they ran.
Beside him, Arianne suddenly stiffened.
Michael noticed it immediately.
Her fingers tightened around the reins of her Flame Lion until her knuckles turned pale. Her breathing grew uneven again, but this time it was not only fear.
It was something else.
Her pupils trembled slightly.
Her gaze remained fixed on the distant direction where the others had gone.
Michael’s expression hardened.
He extended his senses carefully.
There it was.
A faint fluctuation.
It was subtle.
Not enough to be seen by ordinary perception. But through the Eye of Truth, it became clear.
The distortions beneath her skin had grown more active.
The faint faces shifted faster now, their outlines more defined than before.
It appeared they were responding to the same call.
Michael felt a cold realization settle in his chest.
Arianne trembled.
Her lips parted slightly.
"...I..."
Her voice faltered.
She lifted a hand slowly, pressing it against her chest.
Her heart was racing fast.
Her breathing hitched.
"I can feel it," she whispered.
Tears began to form in her eyes before she even realized it.
A single drop slid down her cheek.
Then another.
"I don’t understand," she said weakly. "What is happening to me?"
Her Flame Lion shifted beside her, sensing her distress immediately. The beast pressed its massive body closer, its warmth radiating against her leg, rumbling low in its throat.
But even it looked uneasy.
Its golden eyes flicked toward the distant horizon.
Toward the call.
Arianne’s grip tightened in its mane unconsciously.
Her shoulders trembled.
"I don’t want to go," she whispered.
Another tear fell.
"But..."
Her voice broke.
"...something is pulling me."
Michael watched her carefully.
His jaw tightened slightly.
The timing was too precise.
The moment the realm had shaken was the moment whatever lay at the center awakened.
Every infected individual had responded, including her.
Before, Michael had only suspected there was something at that destination.
Now he was sure.
Arianne’s reaction confirmed it more clearly than anything else. The infection inside her had shifted from passive to active the moment the source awakened, as if a dormant seed had finally received water.
Michael’s eyes narrowed.
Unfortunately, he could tell he did not have enough time.
If he did not do something soon, there was a great possibility Arianne would turn into the others, the deeply infected participants who were now sprinting toward the call without hesitation.
And if the situation worsened, it could start to threaten him as well.
Michael did not dare to overestimate himself.
This place had once been the domain of a deceased Rank 4 superpower.
Even dead, a Rank 4 could leave behind traps, wills, and remnants that could drown a Rank 2 without effort.
As those thoughts passed through his mind, Michael forced his voice to remain steady.
"Arianne."
She flinched, as if his voice pulled her back from the edge.
Her eyes were wet. Her lips trembled.
Michael stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder, firm enough to ground her.
"Listen to me," he said.
Arianne swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on him instead of the horizon that called to her.
"I don’t know what’s happening," she whispered. "It feels like something is pulling me apart."
"I know," Michael replied quietly.
He held her gaze.
"Try your best to hold on," he said. "No matter what you feel, do not follow it."
Her breathing hitched.
"You’ll figure it out?" she asked, desperate.
Michael did not answer directly.
Instead, he reached inward into his soul space.
A palm-sized coffin appeared in his hand.
The Damaged Coffin of the Forgotten.
The moment it manifested, Arianne stiffened.
Her pupils shrank.
The Flame Lion reacted even more strongly.
A low, instinctive growl vibrated from deep within its chest, its massive frame shifting protectively in front of her. Its golden eyes locked onto the coffin, then onto Michael, uncertain and tense.
Arianne’s fingers tightened in its mane unconsciously.
But what happened next startled them both as a figure appeared out of nowhere.
It was Spartan.
He wore a dark robe. His posture was straight and posed.
The Flame Lion bared its teeth.
Its mane flickered faintly with heat.
Arianne’s heart pounded faster.
Spartan lowered his head slightly toward Michael, ignoring the hostility of the beast pletely.
"My master," Spartan said calmly, his voice smooth and respectful. "What should I do for you?"
Michael did not hesitate.
"Stay with her," he said.
Spartan’s gaze shifted toward Arianne.
The moment his eyes landed on her, she froze.
The Flame Lion stepped forward half a pace, placing itself directly between Spartan and its master, body lowered protectively, ready to attack if necessary.
Michael raised his hand slightly.
"It’s fine," he said calmly.
The Flame Lion hesitated.
It did not fully relax, but it did not attack either.
Michael looked directly at Spartan.
"Protect her," he said. "Do not let her move toward the source. Even if she loses control."
Spartan bowed his head slightly. It did not know what its master meant by losing control, but it would protect her whether she liked it or not.
"As you mand."
Michael turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, where the infected figures had disappeared beyond the crystal ridge.
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