They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves and Reynar's labored breaths. His wounds were healing fast thanks to the potion, but his body still felt heavy. Every step reminded him that death had been just a heartbeat away.
Liora glanced at him occasionally, as if assessing whether he could still walk.
Finally, she broke the silence.
"You really don't know anything about where you are, do you?"
Reynar gave a weak chuckle. "Not a thing."
"I figured," she said. "The way you handled yourself back there was... desperate."
He gave her a look. "I survived, didn't I?"
"Barely."
She wasn't mocking him, but she wasn't sugarcoating it either.
He liked that.
After a moment, Liora slowed her pace and pointed toward the horizon, where the twin suns were starting to sink.
"Welcome to Elyndra," she said. "A continent shaped by war, magic, and things older than time."
Reynar raised an eyebrow. "That dramatic?"
Liora's expression darkened. "You haven't seen the real world yet. You're still in the outerlands—relatively peaceful. But further inland? It's different."
She paused. "Let me explain."
They came to a resting spot — a smooth stone slab beneath a tree, surrounded by glowing blue flowers. She sat. He joined her.
"Elyndra is one of the Seven Fractured Continents," Liora began. "Each one was once part of a single world, but during the Cataclysm, they were split — torn apart by the warring Sovereigns."
Reynar blinked. "Sovereigns?"
Liora nodded. "Beings who reached the pinnacle of power. Each one had a different path: some through magic, some through martial might, some through ancient systems gifted by the Loom."
Reynar froze.
"The… Loom?"
Liora gave him a sideways glance. "Yeah. The Loom of Fate. You've heard of it?"
He hesitated. "…I've encountered something related to it."
She didn't press, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
"There are three major factions that rule most of Elyndra," Liora continued.
"The Imperium of Astra — scholars, nobles, magic-wielders. Order-obsessed and dangerous if provoked."
"The Voldrak Clans — warborn nomads. Live by strength and conquest. They respect power above all."
"And the Ardent Flame Pact — a loose alliance of rebels, wanderers, and elementalists. They fight for freedom, whatever that means to them."
"Where are we now?" Reynar asked.
"In disputed territory," Liora said. "Far from the central warzones, but not far enough. Raids happen. Monsters lurk. And the worst of all…"
She trailed off, eyes sharp.
"…are those with Systems."
Reynar's heart skipped. "Like me?"
"Not all System users are Sovereigns," she said. "But anyone with one has the potential to become a walking calamity. Some lose their minds. Some go mad with power. Others… are hunted."
Reynar swallowed.
So the System isn't a secret. But it's feared.
She stood and began walking again. He followed, slower this time.
"There are dungeons scattered across Elyndra," she said over her shoulder. "Ruins of the old world. Places of power. If you're looking to grow stronger, that's where you'll end up."
"And what about you?" Reynar asked. "You saved me. Are you… a System user too?"
Liora was quiet for a moment.
Then she smirked faintly. "No System. Just training. Blood. And a damn good teacher."
Impressive, Reynar thought. She took down that Level 12 panther without a System?
"I was raised in the borderlands," she added. "We don't have the luxury of weakness."
The village came into view.
A cluster of stone and timber houses surrounded by high wooden walls. A tall spire — a watchtower — stood at the center, with smoke curling from a forge nearby.
"Eldwyn," Liora said. "Not much, but it's safe. Mostly."
Reynar stared at it.
His first real stop in this world.
As they walked toward the gates, he asked one last question.
"What's your goal, Liora?"
She paused, her expression unreadable.
"…To kill someone."
Before he could ask more, the village guards waved her in.
Reynar looked back at the forest, then forward toward the village.
Elyndra. The Seven Continents. The Loom. Sovereigns.
This world was vast. Full of danger. Full of opportunity.
And he had just begun to scratch the surface.