Veyrath stood at the edge of the wilderness, his gaze fixed on the distant glow of torches and lanterns.
A settlement.
Larger than the trading post, but not yet a city.
A place of people, of movement, of belief in safety.
A place untouched by the kind of fear he had cultivated before.
That would soon change.
Because this time, he was not coming alone.
This time, he was bringing something new.
His creations.
The first of the Unmade.
The two who had been altered by Unmaking stood behind him.
The warrior, now sharper, stronger, more controlled.
The rogue, now quieter, faster, stripped of excess humanity.
Neither questioned his purpose.
Neither showed hesitation.
They did not resist what they had become.
And that was what set them apart from ordinary men.
Veyrath turned to them, his eyes burning in the dark.
"You will walk among them first."
The rogue nodded without question.
The warrior's voice was steady.
"And what would you have us do?"
Veyrath smiled.
"Learn."
They had been men once.
Now, they were something else.
And before they destroyed, they would observe.
Before they were feared, they would be known.
They would let the world accept them—
And then they would show it why that was a mistake.
The settlement was bustling even at night.
Merchants closing their stalls, guards making their rounds.
A tavern still lively with drink and conversation.
The perfect place to begin.
The rogue entered first, his steps silent but deliberate.
He did not hide.
He did not slink into the shadows.
He walked with purpose.
And no one noticed anything wrong.
The warrior followed, his presence commanding, but not alarming.
They looked like men.
They spoke like men.
But they were no longer men.
And no one had any idea.
Not yet.
The rogue moved through the settlement without effort.
He spoke to merchants, gathering information.
He played cards in the tavern, learning the mannerisms of those around him.
The warrior entered a training yard, testing himself against hired swords.
He fought them as a man would—carefully, strategically, never giving away what he truly was.
And it worked.
The people saw nothing strange.
Because their minds rejected the idea that something was wrong.
They saw only what they expected to see.
And that meant the Unmade could move freely.
Without suspicion.
Without fear.
For now.
It happened in the late hours.
A drunken man bumped into the rogue outside the tavern.
He spat, cursing.
"Watch where you're going, bastard."
The rogue turned.
And for a moment, his expression did not change.
Then—
His eyes shifted.
Something flickered beneath them.
Not anger.
Not offense.
Just calculation.
A question needing an answer.
How should I react?
The man shoved him.
The rogue did not move.
Did not blink.
He simply watched.
And the longer he stood there, motionless—
The more the drunken man hesitated.
Because something was wrong.
He didn't know why.
Didn't know how.
But his instincts screamed at him to walk away.
And so, he did.
The rogue watched him leave.
Then, slowly, he turned his gaze back toward Veyrath's position in the distance.
A silent question.
"What now?"
Veyrath smirked.
"Now, we escalate."
They did not strike immediately.
Fear was not something to be forced.
It was something to be planted.
Cultivated.
So they began with whispers.
Small inconsistencies.
The rogue and warrior moved in places they should not have been.
Were seen where they had not walked.
Merchants swore they had just spoken to them, only to find them somewhere else entirely.
Guards noticed a figure in the distance, only for them to disappear without a trace.
The same conversation repeating as if it had never ended.
People began to doubt their own memories.
To wonder if they had drunk too much.
Slept too little.
But Veyrath knew the truth.
It was the first crack.
The first seed of something deeper.
And soon, it would spread.
By the third night, something unexpected happened.
A man approached the warrior in the training yard.
Not a soldier.
Not a merchant.
A man with a look in his eyes.
A look Veyrath recognized.
"You're not from here," the man said.
The warrior's expression did not change.
"No."
The man exhaled.
Then—
"Neither am I."
Veyrath watched from the rooftops, unseen.
Because he understood what had just happened.
Not all men fit within the world they were given.
Some longed for something more.
For something greater.
And the Unmade were the answer they had never known to seek.
The warrior studied the man.
Measured him.
Then said, simply—
"Walk with me."
And just like that,
The first willing follower had come to them.
The man who had approached the warrior was not afraid.
Not yet.
He was curious.
Intrigued by something he could not name.
Veyrath knew the type well.
A man who had never fit in the world as it was.
A man who saw something different and wanted to be part of it.
And that made him useful.
Because while fear was a weapon,
Loyalty was a foundation.
So Veyrath let him walk beside the warrior.
Let him think he was choosing this path.
But in truth, his choice had already been made for him.
Because once you stepped beyond the boundaries of the world—
There was no going back.
One man was not enough.
The first was always the most difficult.
The first to step away from the known, the safe, the expected.
But once one did it—
Others would follow.
Because there were always those who sought more.
Who wanted to be more.
And Veyrath would give them that chance.
Or at least, let them believe he was.
Over the next few nights, more came.
Not all at once.
Not in groups.
But one by one.
A man with nothing to lose.
A woman with ambition, but no power.
A mercenary who had grown tired of the endless cycle of coin and blood.
All of them felt something was happening.
That something was changing.
They did not understand it.
Could not explain it.
But they wanted to be part of it.
And so, they came.
And Veyrath watched as the Unmade became more than just two.
They became many.
Veyrath did not use Unmaking on them immediately.
He observed first.
Measured who they were before deciding who they would become.
Some were useful as they were.
Others could be reshaped.
The warrior and rogue taught them in the meantime.
Trained them.
Not in fighting—
But in listening. In watching. In understanding what they were becoming part of.
They did not need to know everything.
Not yet.
Only that they were part of something greater.
And that was enough.
For now.
Not all were ready.
Not all would survive.
Veyrath chose one.
A man who had been a soldier once, but had abandoned his post.
A man who sought strength but had never been strong.
He knelt before Veyrath without hesitation.
"Make me more."
The words came easily.
Too easily.
As if he did not understand what he was truly asking.
Veyrath said nothing.
Simply reached out—
And erased him.
Not gently.
Not carefully.
But completely.
For long minutes, there was nothing.
And then—
He returned.
The man fell to his knees the moment he reappeared.
His breath came shallow, uneven.
His hands clutched at the earth, as if grounding himself.
And then he looked up.
His eyes were not the same.
Brighter.
Sharper.
And when he spoke, his voice carried something new.
"I see now."
Veyrath studied him carefully.
Measured what had changed.
His stance was more confident.
His movements more controlled.
He had been a man before.
Now he was something else.
Something more.
The others watched in silence.
Some with fascination.
Others with fear.
And Veyrath knew—
The real test was not whether they could be changed.
But whether they would ask for it themselves.
And one by one—
They did.
Not all were taken.
Not all were transformed.
But those who chose to become more, did.
And those who were not yet ready, watched.
Listened.
Began to believe.
That was what made it powerful.
It was not forced upon them.
Not demanded.
It was something they asked for.
And that made it irresistible.
Because power that is offered freely—
Is more tempting than power that is taken.
And soon, the settlement would no longer belong to its people.
It would belong to the Unmade.
They just didn't know it yet.
By the end of the second week,
The Unmade were a presence in the settlement.
Not obvious.
Not overbearing.
But there.
A presence that could be felt in the air.
In the way people looked over their shoulders.
In the way conversations grew quieter when certain figures walked past.
They were not feared yet.
But they were being noticed.
And that meant the world beyond this place would soon notice too.
That was the next challenge.
Because power was one thing.
Control was another.
And Veyrath intended to have both.
The settlement was no longer what it had been.
Not in a way the people could see.
Not yet.
But beneath the surface, everything was changing.
Veyrath had ensured that.
The Unmade had grown in number.
Their presence was woven into the fabric of daily life.
Not openly.
Not yet.
But they were everywhere.
And with each passing night, more people were slipping away.
Not taken.
Not forced.
But choosing.
Choosing to become more.
Choosing to leave their past selves behind.
And that was what made it unstoppable.
Because fear could be fought.
But desire?
Desire was a disease.
And it was spreading.
Veyrath did not simply turn the settlement all at once.
That would have been too obvious.
Too reckless.
Instead, the process was gradual.
One person.
Then another.
At first, only those who sought power.
Then, those who feared being left behind.
Then, those who simply wanted to understand.
And by the time anyone realized what was happening—
It was already too late.
Because the Unmade were no longer just outsiders.
They were the workers.
The merchants.
The soldiers who guarded the gates.
They were part of the settlement itself.
And no one had even noticed the shift.
Unlike before, Veyrath did not choose the Unmaking alone.
He let them come to him.
To ask.
To kneel.
To offer themselves willingly.
And when they did, he granted it.
Some returned stronger.
Some returned sharper.
Some returned quieter, with eyes that saw beyond what should be seen.
But none returned as they were.
And every time someone walked back into the settlement changed,
It drew more.
Because the ones who had been left behind began to wonder.
They began to question.
To ask if they were the ones who were truly lesser.
And when doubt took hold,
It was only a matter of time.
Veyrath knew the next step had to be precise.
It was not enough to turn the people.
The settlement's leaders had to fall as well.
Not through violence.
Not through force.
But through conviction.
He targeted those who wielded influence.
The merchants who controlled trade.
The officers who led the town guard.
The foreman who organized labor.
At first, they were skeptical.
Then, they were curious.
And when they saw what the Unmade were becoming—
They wanted it.
Not all of them.
Not yet.
But the cracks had formed.
And Veyrath knew how to widen them.
Not everyone was blind.
Not everyone was tempted.
There were always those who refused.
Who sensed the wrongness before it fully took root.
A small group of townsfolk had begun asking questions.
Noticed how people were different.
Noticed how some returned changed, and others simply never returned at all.
And they were growing suspicious.
They spoke in hushed voices.
Met in secret.
Plotted to leave the settlement before it was too late.
But Veyrath had already foreseen this.
And he had no intention of allowing them to escape.
One night, the resistance made their move.
They gathered at the edge of the settlement, preparing to flee.
But they never made it past the gates.
Because the gates were guarded.
By the Unmade.
And as the townsfolk tried to leave,
They realized the truth.
The settlement was no longer theirs.
It had become something else.
And they were too late to stop it.
Veyrath stepped into the torchlight, watching them struggle.
Watched as fear finally overtook their faces.
And he spoke.
Not loudly.
Not with anger.
But with certainty.
"You were given a choice."
He looked at them, at the fear in their eyes.
And then he erased one of them.
Not for conversion.
Not for testing.
But to show the rest what happened when they refused.
The man vanished in an instant.
Gone.
Not dead.
Not even a corpse left behind.
Simply…
Removed.
And when Veyrath turned his gaze back to the others—
They fell to their knees.
And whispered the only words left to say.
"Make us more."
By the time the sun rose,
The resistance was gone.
Not dead.
Not missing.
Just changed.
They walked the streets as they always had.
Spoke with their families.
Lived their lives.
But they were no longer the same.
And now, the settlement belonged to the Unmade.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
Without a single drop of blood spilled.
Because the people had not been conquered.
They had asked for it.
And that made the victory absolute.
The settlement no longer belonged to its original people.
It was now a place of Unmaking.
Not through force.
Not through war.
But through willingness.
And that made it stronger than conquest.
There were no prisoners.
No rebels hiding in the shadows.
Only those who had chosen transformation.
And those who would soon follow.
Veyrath had no need to march forward immediately.
No need to seek the next city just yet.
Because power was not just about expansion.
It was about control.
And before he moved forward,
He would ensure that this place was fully his.
That when he left, it would remain as it was.
A foundation.
A monument to what was coming.
The first of many.
Not all who had been Unmade were the same.
Some were stronger.
Some were sharper.
But there were still limits.
Still pieces of their former selves clinging to their minds.
That was unacceptable.
If they were to be more,
They had to be remade completely.
So Veyrath refined the ritual.
Made it more precise.
More focused.
No longer just a change of body.
But a change of mind.
A complete shedding of the past.
Those who had been Unmade once
Would be Unmade again.
And this time, they would not return as merely better versions of themselves.
They would return as something entirely new.
The settlement still had a structure.
Still had leaders.
Former merchants, former captains, former overseers.
They had pledged loyalty.
Had embraced the change.
But that was not enough.
Loyalty was too fragile.
A man who pledged himself today
Could still fear tomorrow.
So they became the first of the second Unmaking.
Not because they had rebelled.
Not because they had doubted.
But because they needed to set the example.
And so, one by one, they were taken.
Unmade again.
And what returned were no longer leaders in name only.
They were priests of the new order.
No longer men and women bound by their pasts.
But symbols of what came next.
And when the others saw them, heard them, stood before them—
They did not just believe.
They knew.
The settlement was no longer a town of workers and travelers.
It was a temple of transformation.
A place where weakness was stripped away.
Where people came not to live,
But to become something greater.
And that meant it needed a structure.
A doctrine.
Not a religion.
Veyrath did not demand worship.
Only obedience.
Only progress.
So the rules were written.
The words were spread.
Not in books.
Not in carvings.
But in voices.
Because books could burn.
Words could be erased.
But belief—true belief—was carried in the mind.
And that was where it would live.
Forever.
Not all who had been changed were equal.
Not all had become what they should.
Some were stronger.
More capable.
Others were lesser.
Still clinging to remnants of what they had been.
That had to be corrected.
So Veyrath divided them.
The Ascended.
The ones who had been fully remade, who had shed their pasts entirely.
They would be the keepers of the settlement.
The ones who guided the next generations.
The Shaped.
Those who were changed but not yet perfected.
They would serve, they would prove themselves.
And when the time came, they too would be Unmade again.
And then there were the newcomers.
The ones who were still choosing.
Still waiting.
Still watching.
They would not be forced.
Not yet.
Because in the end, they would come willingly.
They always did.
The world had not yet noticed what had happened here.
But whispers had already begun to spread.
A town that had changed overnight.
Where merchants no longer sought gold,
But understanding.
Where guards no longer carried swords,
Because they no longer needed them.
Travelers came, expecting a place of trade and rest.
They found something else.
A settlement where the people spoke as one.
Where they did not argue.
Where there was no crime, no division, no uncertainty.
And that was what terrified them the most.
Not what had changed.
But what had disappeared.
Doubt.
Hesitation.
Fear.
This was not a normal town.
And the world was beginning to notice.
Veyrath stood at the center of what he had built.
Watched as the settlement transformed into something greater.
It was no longer just a place.
It was a beacon.
A foundation for what was to come.
But he knew what came next.
The world would not ignore this forever.
Not all would seek to join.
Some would seek to destroy.
And that meant it was time to decide.
Should he remain and continue strengthening the Unmade further?
Or was it time to expand?
To bring the next settlement into the fold, before the outside world could react?
The decision was his.
And the world would feel the weight of it.