Amid the ruins of an ancient city, far beyond the magical boundaries of Gravemire, a purple mist shrouded an unnamed stone altar.
There, Arven waited.
Not in body.
Not in form.
But as a mindset—a consciousness that spread through whispers and unhealed wounds.
And that night, he waited no longer.
He began to push.
A child like Nero could not be turned back by terror.
He had to be betrayed.
Disillusioned.
Hit with a reality that felt unfair.
And Arven knew how best to do it: tear down what he had just believed.
In the Central District, citizens were beginning to accept a new logistics rotation system—designed by the Social Committee, overseen by Elias himself.
A group of orphans, including Nero, were scheduled to help out at a food distribution post.
Arven planted a whisper in the minds of two adult volunteers at the post:
"These kids are just a burden."
"You can cut them some slack. No one will know."
"Save more for your own family."
And they did.
Not a big crime.
