Curiosity, sharpened by the Path of Insanity, pushed Kael into the fortress's lower sub-levels. The air here tasted of old copper and ozone. In the lightless corridors, he found them.
The "Elite."
They weren't skeletons. Dozens of warriors in the tattered, golden-sun armor of the Dukedom sat against the walls or stood in corners like forgotten museum pieces. Their skin was the color of curdled milk, but it hadn't rotted.
Kael approached a woman who had likely been a Stage 6 Arbiter—a being who, in the capital, could command the very laws of physics. He waved a hand in front of her face. Her eyes were wide, glassy, and completely blank. There was no soul behind them, only a milky white void that reflected a sky that didn't exist.
"They're still alive," Kael whispered, tapping his iron poker against her breastplate. The metal clanged, but she didn't blink. "But they're hollow."
He touched her forehead. He didn't feel heat or cold; he felt nothing. It was like touching molded wax. These high-stage warriors had spent decades refining their "Truth," only to be reached by the Mother of Tides and simply... erased. Their power and history were gone, replaced by a permanent, ecstatic delusion.
"Is this the 'Truth' my father is so proud of?" Kael's laughter echoed hollowly. "He fled and left his best people to become furniture for a sea goddess."
The sight of the "Elite" didn't frighten Kael; it provided a blueprint. If the rigid, structured power of the Truman "Truth" led to this—a blank-eyed servitude—then the Path of Insanity was the only logical shield. The Mother of Tides didn't fight; she "polluted" the concept of the self. To survive her, Kael couldn't just be a "stronger" human. He had to become something that couldn't be hollowed out because it was already empty.
He looked at his Status Screen.
[ PROGRESS TO STAGE II: THE HOLLOW VESSEL — 84% ]
"I need to finish the transition," Kael decided. He could feel his digestive system slowing down, his heart beating once every few minutes. He was already becoming a vessel. He just needed more essence and a place to test his social subversion.
He left the ruins, leaving the statues of the Sun Regiment to their eternal, mindless vigil. He had spent enough time among the dead.
He turned his gaze toward the east, where clusters of ramshackle huts clung to the cliffs like barnacles. The Village of Blackwater. Until now, he had avoided it, fearing spies or primitive traps. But after seeing the ruins, he realized the village was the only place where the "Pollution" was integrated into daily life. If anyone knew how to navigate the Mother's influence, it was the people who lived in her shadow.
"Let's see if the 'Guest' can get a warm welcome," Kael said, pulling his black hood over his pale, sharp features.
He began the long walk toward the settlement, his eyes glowing with a violet intensity. He wasn't just an exile anymore. He was a Tier I nightmare walking into a town full of secrets, and he was hungry for the next rung on the ladder.