The air was still. Too still. The world had grown silent in a way that made Oliver’s skin crawl, like the calm before a storm. He stood at the center of a vast, open space—once a lush field, now barren, choked by the creeping tendrils of shadow that spread from the far horizon. The ground beneath his feet trembled, a faint but steady vibration, as if something ancient was stirring beneath the earth.The Hunger had begun to feed.Oliver could feel it in the air, thick and oppressive. It gnawed at the edges of his mind, clawing at the very fabric of reality. He could almost taste the bitterness of it on his tongue, the sharpness of a predator drawing nearer, its hunger endless, its thirst unquenchable. He had faced the Hunger before, but this was different. This time, it wasn’t just a force in the world—it was feeding directly from the soul of the universe itself.He took a slow, steady breath, trying to center himself. The power of the Final Oliver still pulsed within him, a new energy

Oliver stood still, his chest rising and falling with every breath. The stars above him shimmered like tiny candles in the dark. The cold wind brushed his face gently, like a whisper from the past. He was alive. The Hunger was gone.But he didn’t feel safe.He looked around. The land was broken. Cracks still ran across the ground like scars. Trees stood at strange angles, their branches bent in unnatural shapes. Stones floated in the air, some spinning slowly, as if time had not yet remembered how to move forward.He was alone. Or so he thought.Then, he heard it. A sound. Soft at first. Crunch. A footstep.Oliver turned around quickly. His eyes searched the dark edges of the world. Was it the Hunger? Had it returned? No. This was different.He stepped forward, slowly, his boots crunching on the broken stones. The sound came again.Crunch. Crunch.And then, from the mist that clung to the earth like wet cloth, a figure stepped out.She was young, maybe close to his age. Her cloak was

The mark on Oliver’s back glowed brighter. It burned, but not with fire. It was cold. Like winter wind brushing bare skin. He didn’t move.Emery. His sister. She looked so small in the man’s arms. Her arms hung limp. Her head rested against his red coat. Her dark hair was tangled. Her face, pale like snow, had a smudge of dirt on one cheek. She didn’t wake.Oliver took a step forward.The Hollow man did not stop him. He just tilted his head, watching like a crow waiting for something to die.“You said she was dead,” Oliver whispered to Wren.“I thought she was,” Wren said. Her voice shook. “You told me—on the night of the final battle—you saw the Hunger take her.”“I did,” Oliver said.Then, softer, “I saw her fall. I tried to reach her.”“You didn’t,” the man said. “But the Hunger did.”Oliver clenched his fists.The street around them was filled with the Lost Names. They moved like puppets. Their eyes were black. Their mouths smiled too wide. Some giggled. Others whispered words tha

The forest was cold. Trees stood tall and still, like quiet guards watching from the dark. Fog crawled between their roots.Oliver ran through it. Mud clung to his boots. Leaves scratched his arms and face. But he didn’t stop. He held Emery tightly, her breathing shallow, her skin burning with fever.His heart pounded hard. Not from fear, but from the memory of Wren.Wren, who had stayed behind. Wren, who had screamed. Wren, who had fought the monsters so they could escape.And now she was gone.“Just a little more,” Oliver whispered to Emery. “We’re almost safe.”But even he didn’t believe that.Behind them, the forest growled.Branches snapped.Something was coming.Then, the air changed. A soft light blinked behind Oliver’s eyes. Like a spark in the dark. A voice,not loud, not soft,spoke deep inside him.System awakening...Jailer Protocol: ReactivatedUser Level: UnlockedHidden Trait: Guardian Flame , EngagedStrength Boost +200%Pain Resistance: Temporary Immunity GrantedMissio

Oliver stood in the armor. The black steel wrapped around his body like it had grown from his skin. It was heavy, but it felt like it belonged. The glowing chain crossed over his chest, warm against the cold metal, pulsing like a heartbeat. In his right hand, he held a silver mask. It gleamed under the shrine’s soft light.The shrine was silent. The walls were old, covered in cracks and faded symbols. Candles flickered in little bowls along the edges, casting golden glows.Dust hung in the air, making everything feel still and ancient.Wren stood near the stairs. Her eyes were wide. She didn’t say anything. She just stared at Oliver like he had turned into something else.Emery leaned against the stone wall. Her face was pale, and her breath came out in short, weak puffs. Her hand was over her heart. She stared up at the sky through the hole in the ceiling,the place where the boy had fallen."My brother..." she whispered. Her voice shook, like a thread about to break. "He should be