Beneath the crust of the nascent world, where cracks from the Abyss bled faint pulses of corruption, something stirred.
The monsters—spawned by accident, born from a place not meant for mortal eyes—began to change.
Where once they were mindless, now they watched.
Where once they crawled, now they stood.
---
Deep in the Blackwood Wastes, a hulking Grimsnatcher with bones protruding from its shoulders growled as it pressed its claw into the dirt. It had no name, only instinct.
But instinct gave way to memory.
A week ago, it had seen its brethren slaughtered—silver fire, hammer swings, a spear that moved like the desert wind.
It had survived.
And it remembered.
> They kill us.
> They are few, but they kill.
All around it, other monsters—creatures with twisted limbs, scales, and bleeding mouths—gathered. In their eyes, a flicker of recognition began to form.
One of them, thin and wiry with six jointed arms, screeched a series of sounds that… meant something.
Not just noise.
Words.
> "Fight… together."
The bone-crested Grimsnatcher bared its teeth.
> "Ka-Ran."
It didn't know where the name came from. Perhaps it had heard it in a dream, or maybe the Abyss whispered it into the cracks of its soul. But the name echoed.
The monsters snarled in approval.
Thus, the Ka-Ran Tribe was born.
---
From nearby ruined settlements, other monsters began to migrate. The weak followed the strong. Those who had survived battle began passing on what they saw: the light-wielders, the fire-child, the hammer-warrior.
The heroes were becoming legends.
And so, too, were the monsters.
Some painted crude shapes on cavern walls. Some mimicked the fighting forms of the humans they saw. Some began wearing bones as armor, others sharpening their claws into weapons.
And the Ka-Ran? The Ka-Ran built structure.
The bone-crested Grimsnatcher—now called Karak, the first of his kind to claim a name—claimed leadership not through fear, but by vision. He forced the lesser tribes to kneel and brought order to their chaos.
He taught them to wait, to hide, to learn.
They began to raid smarter, faster.
They no longer attacked lone travelers—they attacked supply lines, destroyed food stores, hunted scouts, and left no trace.
---
Meanwhile, the heroes remained unaware.
In the forest glade, Thalen sharpened his spear while Runa trained with Boro, helping him control the silver fire that flickered with every heartbeat. Lina giggled with Elien as they watched Garr practice with Mira, who had begun forging herbs into enchanted salves.
Gaia, standing atop a marble platform above the clouds, watched them with pride… and unease.
The world below grew more complex by the day.
She could feel resistance forming.
And somewhere far below, beneath stone and shadow, a name echoed louder with each passing hour.
> "Ka-Ran…"
> "Ka-Ran…"
---
In a broken village reclaimed by ash and rot, a red-skinned beast twice the height of a man approached Karak.
This one spoke more clearly.
> "We followed. We bring bones. Food. Flesh."
Karak stepped down from a throne of twisted trees and skulls.
He placed a clawed hand on the beast's chest.
> "Then you are Ka-Ran."
The beast nodded.
> "Ka-Ran… we kill light?"
Karak's eyes narrowed.
> "No."
> "We wait."
He looked toward the sky.
> "We grow. We rule. We take… the world."