The world tilted violently as Cain fell. His breath caught in his throat as the ruins crumbled beneath him, sending massive chunks of stone and debris into the abyss below. Dust and mist swirled around him, turning the already darkened world into an even deeper void. His fingers scrambled for purchase, grasping at jagged edges of broken stone. His nails chipped against the rough surface as he fought against gravity.
A sharp crack split the air, and the ledge he clung to gave way.
Cain plummeted.
The fall was shorter than before, but the impact was no less brutal. His body slammed into another section of ruins, his back hitting a slanted slab of stone that sent a shockwave of pain through his ribs. He tumbled down the slope, rolling over sharp fragments of rubble before finally colliding with a mound of sand and debris. The breath was driven from his lungs, and for a moment, he lay still, blinking dust from his eyes.
The air was thick with swirling mist, and the echoes of the collapsing ruins still rumbled through the abyss like the death throes of a dying god. His muscles screamed in protest as he forced himself upright, brushing grit from his face. The landscape around him had changed.
The section of ruins he had landed in was different—older. The structures were less recognizable, the architecture alien compared to what he had seen above. The stone was blackened, cracked with deep fissures that pulsed faintly, as if something beneath still lived. The shapes of what might have once been statues stood like forgotten sentinels, their features worn away by time, their forms twisted into something inhuman.
The mist shifted.
Cain froze, his instincts screaming at him to stay still. The movement was subtle, barely noticeable against the thick fog that clung to the ruins, but it was there. A presence. Something watching.
A faint clicking sound echoed through the silence, followed by the slow, deliberate scrape of something sharp dragging against stone. Cain's pulse pounded against his ribs. He turned his head slowly, careful not to make a sound.
At first, he saw nothing. Then the mist thinned just enough to reveal the outline of something hunched over the remains of a broken pillar.
It was tall. Taller than a man. Its limbs were stretched unnaturally long, its fingers tapering into wickedly sharp claws that twitched against the stone. Its body was wrapped in something dark and tattered, like flesh peeled too thin and stretched too tight over its skeletal frame. Where its face should have been, there was only smooth, pale skin, featureless except for a slit of jagged teeth that curved upward in a grotesque grin.
The creature tilted its head, as if listening.
Cain held his breath.
It was one of the things from before. The things that had torn through the survivors above. But here, in the deeper ruins, it was alone.
He dared not move. Not yet.
The creature took a slow, shuddering step forward, its claws dragging against the stone as it moved. Its head twitched, turning slightly toward him. Cain's fingers tightened around the nearest chunk of debris, gripping it like a weapon, though he knew it would be useless.
The thing exhaled, a low, rattling hiss escaping its throat. Then, suddenly, it stopped. Its body stiffened, and for a moment, Cain thought it had sensed him.
Then it turned sharply and slithered back into the mist, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
Cain exhaled slowly, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
He needed to move. Staying in one place was a death sentence. He crouched low, scanning the ruins for a path forward. Every direction looked the same—crumbling structures, jagged pathways, and endless darkness beyond.
A faint glow caught his eye.
It was small, barely visible through the mist, but unmistakable. A flickering, pulsing light embedded in the cracked stone a few meters ahead. It wasn't natural. Nothing in this place was.
Cain moved cautiously, keeping his steps as silent as possible. His limbs ached, his shoulder still throbbed from the earlier impact, but he pushed through the pain. When he reached the source of the glow, he saw it was a mark—a symbol carved into the stone, its edges worn but still visible. It pulsed faintly, a soft blue hue radiating from its core.
He reached out, hesitating just before his fingers touched the surface. The moment his skin met the mark, heat surged through his veins.
A rush of images flooded his mind.
Massive figures, towering over the ruins. Titans. Their bodies were wreathed in golden energy, their eyes burning like twin suns. Their voices were like rolling thunder, speaking in a language Cain did not understand, but somehow felt in his bones.
Then—fire. Blood. Betrayal.
The Titans fell. Their bodies crumbled into the abyss, their bones turned into the very ruins Cain now stood upon. And beneath it all, something waited. Something vast. Something that had never truly died.
Cain gasped, stumbling back as the vision shattered. His fingers tingled where they had touched the mark, and his veins still pulsed with residual energy. He staggered, bracing himself against the nearby wall.
The Titans were real. They had existed. And they had been erased.
A sound snapped him out of his thoughts. A distant shriek echoed through the ruins.
Not the creatures from before. Something deeper. Louder. Hungrier.
Cain turned. The mist behind him was shifting again, curling unnaturally as something moved within it.
His pulse quickened.
He was being hunted.
Without wasting another second, he ran.