Calamity Awakens

The wind outside never really stopped.

It scraped against the rock walls like a living thing, moaning faintly through the cracks and crevices. I stirred at least twice through the night—once from the cold, and once from a dream I couldn't quite remember. Each time, I found Hal sleeping soundly, curled tight and warm against the fire. Unbothered and unafraid.

Kelan, on the other hand, groaned awake more than once. The bedroll helped, but healing wounds and unfamiliar terrain didn't lend themselves to restful sleep. He never complained, though—just shifted, adjusted the bandages on his legs, and settled again with a grunt.

By the time the gray light of morning started filtering through the cave's entrance, we were already up, moving quietly.

I stretched stiffly, pulling my coat tighter and packing the few things we'd taken out for the night—blankets, flint, my notebook. Kelan rubbed sleep from his eyes and started rolling his bedroll, moving slowly but with determination. Hal woke last, letting out a low yawn that showed far too many teeth before standing and giving himself a full-body shake.

"Sleep well?" I asked, glancing at Kelan.

He gave me a flat look. "I slept like a guy who got mauled by a wolf and dragged into a snowstorm. So yeah, great."

"Glad to hear it."

We didn't linger. I tied the last strap on my pack and stepped toward the cave mouth, cold air immediately biting into my cheeks. The valley stretched out below us, silent and pale beneath the early light.

"Today the plan is to scout those ruins. They're half buried in snow at the far end of the valley, could be shelter, supplies, clues of somewhere better to go.

We stepped out into the cold as one, packing up the traps as we went. Snow crunching beneath our boots. Hal moved to the front again without needing to be told, tail low, posture alert. I followed with my map in hand, updating the notes as we moved, marking our camp and the safest path forward. Kelan brought up the rear, eyes scanning the ridges and stones like they were old friends.

As we descended deeper into the valley, the light shifted—brighter now, but filtered through the haze of frost still clinging to the air.

And then, a familiar tension curled low in my gut. The timer. It was getting close. "It's time," I said quietly.

Hal paused, ears flicking back toward me. Kelan glanced over, already knowing.

And then, a familiar tension curled low in my gut. The timer. It was getting close.

"It's time," I said quietly.

Hal paused, ears flicking back toward me. Kelan glanced over, already knowing.

We stepped off the snow-covered trail and found a hollow between two leaning slabs of stone—sheltered just enough from the wind. I took a deep breath, then reached for that ever-present thread in my mind.

"Yes," I whispered.

The world folded inward. And then we were there.

The quiet came first. That strange, timeless stillness that hung in the staging room like a held breath. Then the dim golden glow settled in around us—the same circular stone floor beneath our boots, the same floating panels of light above, waiting to be summoned.

Hal padded forward and shook the snow from his fur, then lay down near the podium. Kelan looked around again, less awed than last time, but still not quite at ease.

I took off my coat and slung it into a corner. "We've got a bit of time. Not much, but enough."

Kelan moved beside the podium, "Still not used to this"

"Yeah," I said. "But this is where we choose the next target. A luxury most Calamities don't get."

I stepped toward the floating screen, reaching out with my mind and will. It responded instantly, the familiar panel blinking into view.

I filtered by the same parameters but I increased the level cap to 50. I scrolled and read until I found one that interested me. I needed a healer for the group but I had no Brands. Someone with the Dao of Fire would be a godsend here. But Kelan also needed to be healed. I needed more Brands, more Brands meant more power and I still had no pure combat classes. I had only survived so far by being smart.

"I found a target but we have to go over the plan for this one. Our target is a healer named Lira Ven on the Dao path of Life. I want to try something new here and let her kill me."

Kelan blinked slowly. "Let her kill you?"

Hal tilted his head, ears flicking as if even he wasn't sure he heard that right.

"Yeah," I said. "She didn't kill anyone outright. She made a judgment call—chose to heal the poor over the rich during a crisis. It broke some moral lines for the powers that be. She didn't burn down a city or collapse a mine, she just healed the poor while pissing off some nobles. "

Kelan folded his arms, jaw tightening. "So… you think she's one of the good ones?"

I nodded. "We need allies, Kelan. Strong ones. If she can stand toe-to-toe with a Calamity and survive—even if it's only because I let her—she'll get the reward. Power, status, and opportunity. But those Nobles are gonna take it all from her."

Hal let out a short huff and laid his head down. He wasn't thrilled either.

Kelan folded his arms. "So what's the play? You said you want her to kill you?"
"We will push her into a real fight. I'm hoping that she is still in the slums where she healed everyone, and that they will come fight for her. You know how it works—survive a Calamity and you get a Boon."

Kelan nodded slowly thinking it through "The recruitment stones."

"Exactly. I want her to post a job at a recruitment stone. Once her name's on the board, I can bid on her. Bring her in under our banner before the nobles put a leash on her. I just don't know how posting on the stones works. Is there a way for only me to find her or a filter that would make it hard for anyone else to recruit her."

Kelan scratched his chin, eyes narrowing in thought. "Posting on the stones is public by default but it's limited by the type of stone, some are only city wide or regional, the capital ones are normally planet or sector— But there are filters. You can set keywords, preferred traits in a recruit, even alignment tags. Some people use riddles or private codes when they want specific types to respond."

I nodded slowly. "So if we can convince her mid-fight… get her to post something like 'looking to hunt frost bears' or 'trying to go to a cold place'—something subtle for anyone else except me. I can use that to filter and find her ad?"

"Exactly," Kelan said. "You could even tell her to post a specific phrase, like 'Freedom over fear' or something. Anyone else might scroll past it thinking she's a pain to manage."

"Or," I said quietly, "All Things End."

Kelan froze. His brow furrowed. "That's your Brand's mark."

Hal let out a low growl—not angry, but charged. Like he understood what I was planning even before I finished.

"She'll hear it at some point from me. During the fight," I said. "We'll need to tell her to post herself on a sector recruitment stone using that phrase."

Kelan gave me a look. "Why would she do that after we just came for her life?"

"Because I'm not coming to end her, at least on purpose" I said quietly. "I'm coming to test her. Ascension is watching. If she survives—on her own or with help—she'll earn a Boon. But that won't be the end. The nobles will still come. She has to know that. Everyone in the slums has to know that."

Kelan gave me a long look. "Alright. Say she survives. Say she even hears your phrase. That still doesn't guarantee she posts anything. She might just run, hide, try to vanish. We've got to be honest with her. No riddles. She's a healer, not a spymaster."

"I know," I said. "That's why I'll talk to her. Face-to-face before we start the fight.

Kelan squinted at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're the Calamity, but this seems like a crazy plan. You could just pick someone, we come down in the crazy lightning like you did to me. We fight, we win, we move on."

"I could do that," I said, voice steady. "But we need help."

"That world is trying to kill us. The cold, the storms, the wildlife. If that doesn't finish us off, hunger or exhaustion will. We're surviving, not living."

Kelan opened his mouth, but I cut him off with a glare.. "You're still hurt. And me?" I gave a quiet chuckle. "I can't directly hurt anyone and have no mana skills. Every step forward drains us. That changes if we have someone like her. She does have mana skills and could help me unlock some of my own."

Kelan crossed his arms. "So you're going to show up, what? Knock on her door and ask if she wants to spar?"

"Well…more than that but yea. We will come down right after her enlightenment like we did with you but I suspect she won't get the Boon if I don't go all out. I'll tell her what she's up against. I'll tell her why I'm there. And then I'll fight her. She'll get her Boon. She posts on the recruitment board, I find her, and we bring her in before the nobles lock her down."

"And if she says no?"

I shrugged. "Then she says no. But at least I'll know I gave her the option."

Hal let out a low breath, pacing to my side.

Just make sure I don't die," I said, voice sharp. "And we have to make sure she is the one to kill me—not anyone else. Or else I will actually die, and I won't return to this staging room."

Kelan's expression darkened. "Wait—actually die? As in dead-dead?"

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I nodded. "The system tracks intent, identity, and impact. If some random blade finds me first, the protocol breaks. I won't come back. No reward, no respawn, no second chance."

Hal let out a low, uneasy growl and stepped closer, pressing his weight against my side.

Kelan swore under his breath. "You're walking into this on purpose, knowing she might not even want what you're offering?"

"I'm not walking in to die. I'm walking in to recruit," I said firmly. "But the only way she gets the Boon—the only way she gets the system's attention—is if she's the one who finishes it. So we make sure that happens."

Kelan nodded reluctantly. "We'll cover the perimeter. Anyone tries to jump in, they won't make it past us. But if this goes sideways—"

"Then it ends," I said. "For real. That's the risk."

Kelan didn't speak after that. He just gave a tight nod, lips pressed thin, and turned to prep his gear with a quiet efficiency, his pickaxe in hand. Hal stood at my side, watching and waiting—his posture low and ready, a growl simmering low in his throat like thunder just beneath the surface.

I reached out, hovering my hand over her name. The system pulsed in response, reading my intent. The podium lit up with raw energy. Lightning snapped and surged upward around us in a spiraling column of pale blue, and the world fell away.

The city stretched wide below, cracked brick and sunbaked tile stacked atop narrow alleys and crowded rooftops. Smoke curled from cookfires, rising into the muggy air. Heat clung to everything—thick and humid, heavy with the scent of sweat, spice, and something faintly metallic.

The clouds didn't gather. The sky didn't darken. There was no warning.

Lightning simply fell.

A single bolt cracked into the heart of the slums, shattering stone and ripping through the air like the world itself had flinched. The shockwave rippled through nearby streets, sending market stalls crashing and rooftops trembling.

A second bolt followed—then a third.

We appeared out of our own blast of lightning.

We landed hard—concussive, precise. The world around us stilled in the wake of our arrival. Dust and scorched air rolled outward from the impact zone, warping the heatwaves.

I stepped forward from the settling haze, cloak still flickering with residual energy and woodaxe in my hand. The plaza had emptied in an instant, though a few brave or foolish souls peeked from shuttered windows and doorways.

To my left, Kelan hung back, already positioning himself to guard my back. To my right, Hal melted into the shadows and chaos of the remaining stalls.

And then I saw her.

Lira Ven.

She stood at the far end of the plaza, framed by the open doors of a makeshift clinic—a line of cots visible behind her, a young boy on it, half-conscious and fevered. Her robes were loose, faded green linen streaked with blood and herbs. A staff rested in her hands, carved with small sigils that pulsed with faint light.

There was no panic in her expression. No shock. Just tension—and a readiness I hadn't expected.

Lira – Moments Earlier

The world was silent.

Not the kind of silence that followed death or stillness—but the kind that hummed with something deeper. Something alive.

The light of her Dao surrounded her in strands of green, gently wrapping around her core like ivy seeking sun. The final truth echoed one last time within her, not as words, but as knowing:

Life begets Life

Then it ended.

The light withdrew—settling into her skin like warmth from a long sunbath. The alley came back into focus. Stone. Heat. The scent of burned sage and old blood.

A child coughed behind her on the cot. She turned, instinctively checking his pulse with one hand, the other already reaching for a poultice. It wasn't needed. His fever had broken. Her Dao had done that.

And with that realization came another with a system message.

The air shifted. The ground tensed.

Her head snapped up just as the lightning fell.

They descended in screaming thunder, wrapped in light and power. The slum's plaza exploded with motion—dust, screams, and scattered footsteps. But Lira didn't run and she didn't hide.

She stepped out of the clinic. Not because she thought she could win. But because the people behind her didn't stand a chance if she didn't.

The one in front—tall, calm, eyes too tired to be cruel—was already watching her. He stepped forward slowly, cloak crackling at the edges from residual energy. The axe in his hand swung back and forth as he slowly approached her.

Lira's breath caught in her throat as the strange man advanced. She didn't run—couldn't. Her legs felt like soaked linen, her arms heavy from too many hours of holding broken bodies together with willpower alone. But she lifted her staff anyway, knuckles white around the grip.

"Stay back," she warned, voice raw. "I don't know what you are, but—"

"I'm the Calamity," he said, quiet. Unapologetic.

His voice was calm. Flat, but not cold. Like someone used to being misunderstood.

She didn't move. Neither did he.

Then he took one more step forward, planting the haft of his axe against the ground with a heavy thud. Sparks danced where it struck.

"I'm not here to punish you," he said. "I read your file. I saw what you did."

Her grip tightened around her staff. "You mean saving people?"

"I mean making a choice that cost you protection. That pissed off the wrong Nobles." He tilted his head. "And one that earned you something much bigger than their approval."

Lira frowned. "What do you want?"

He met her eyes. No smile. No cruelty. Just tired clarity.
"I want to fight you. Not to kill you. To test you. The system's already watching—you know that. You just walked off the edge of your old life and into something else. You had a Insight into a Dao. Now survive me, and you'll earn a Boon from ol Vero."

"I don't want a Boon," she said.

"Yes, you do," he replied gently. "Because it's not just power. It's freedom. It's one of the only things that'll keep the nobles from owning your choices."

She hesitated. "And if I survive?"

"Then you post your name on the sector recruitment stone," he said. "Use the phrase All Things End. That's how I'll find you again."

Lira blinked, surprised at the strange weight behind those words. "You're offering me a job?"

"I'm offering you a way out of here," he said.

The plaza was still. People crouched in doorways, watching. Holding their breath. The air itself felt coiled, waiting to snap.

Lira slowly raised her staff still trembling and struggling to move. "Then let's get this over with."

Harold shifted his grip on the axe, nodding once.

"Kill me, Healer. That's how you get free."

He didn't lunge.

That was the first warning. No roar, no charge. Just a man standing still, waiting. Daring her to make the first move.

Her grip on her staff tightened. She could feel the last traces of her Dao still humming beneath her skin, but it was thin now. No second wind, no dramatic surge of power. Just her.

So she moved.

A short step forward, then two more. She spun her staff low and aimed for his legs—not to kill, but to stagger. Unbalance him. Buy space.

He stepped around the sweep like he'd seen it coming an hour ago.

His axe didn't rise. Instead, he turned his shoulder and bumped into her strike, deflecting it with raw weight and sending her stumbling back two steps.

"Good form," he said calmly. "But you're holding back."

"I'm not a killer," she snapped.

"You don't have to be," he said. "You just have to want to live more than I want to fall."

Then he came forward.

It wasn't a rush. It was deliberate. Terrifyingly measured. The axe swept toward her in a shallow arc—not wide enough to cleave, but enough to push her back and cage her in.

Lira ducked low, rolled under the blade, and slammed the butt of her staff into his ribs. She felt the hit land, solid—but he didn't even grunt.

He turned with her, too fast, too fluid. A hand—not the axe—closed around her wrist.

With a twist, he flung her backward. She hit the ground hard, breath knocked from her lungs.

But she moved. Always move. That was lesson one in the slums. Stay down, you die.

She rolled to her knees, staff braced to block the next strike.

The tall Calamity approached again, the lightning still sparking faintly around him. No mockery. No gloating. Just inevitability in motion.

Lira tightened her grip on the staff, pushing herself fully upright, legs shaking beneath her.

And then she heard it—shouting.

Her eyes flicked to the edge of the plaza. A group of slum dwellers had gathered behind a broken wall: two older men she recognized from the mill quarter, a teenage girl with a chipped kitchen knife, even Dav, the wiry boy who'd lost his brother last week.

They weren't trained and they weren't strong. They weren't fighters.

"No!" she shouted. "Stay back!"

Too late. Dav surged forward with a cry that cracked halfway through his throat—desperation, not courage.

A blur moved from the alley.

The frost wolf was a phantom, low and swift. He intercepted Dav with a snarl, striking the boy on the shoulder and tearing a chunk out. Dav fell to the ground screaming as his arm barely held on. Another tried to slip around, but a stone thunked into the ground near his foot.

A broad shouldered man stepped out from a stall, hood down, eyes like flint. "Stay back," he barked. "This is her fight."

The crowd hesitated. Fear, confusion, loyalty—they didn't know what to do. And in that moment, Lira's heart cracked.

She turned her eyes back to the Calamity—this impossible man standing between her and the people who had just tried to save her.

Lira's breath caught. Her vision tunneled—not from pain or exhaustion, but from something deeper.

A second heartbeat echoed within her.

Her Dao stirred.

Not gently. Not in comfort. It surged, wild and sharp, like blood surging after a deep wound.

You cannot heal without understanding death.

For too long, she had only touched one half of the truth. The warmth. The mending. The light. But life wasn't just rising suns and newborn cries. Life ended.

She had held hands as the light faded from eyes. Had watched breath shudder and stop. Had whispered comfort into ears that would never hear again.

She had known death. She just hadn't let it in.

Now it came—not as an enemy, but as part of the whole.

To heal… is to stand between life and death. And choose.

The green light of her Dao flared—then shifted.

Tendrils of darkness, soft as dusk, threaded through it. Not rot. Not corruption. Just balance.

She stepped forward.

Harold's eyes widened slightly—not in fear, but recognition.

"Good," he said quietly. "Very good."

She moved.

The staff spun in her hands, not as a tool of defense, but as a weapon. Her strikes came faster now—flowing like water, coiling like vines. Death qi bursts from the ends of her staff.

Harold blocked two blows, stepped inside the third—but the fourth came to fast to block. A pulse of Dao surged through the weapon.

She didn't even feel it land.

The staff connected with his chest center mass.

There was no explosion. No sound.

Just stillness.

Harold staggered back one step. Then another.

Lira didn't wait.

She was already running—past him, past the frozen stares of the crowd. She slid to her knees beside the boy who'd been hurt during the fight. His breathing was shallow. The blood from his wound seeping across the ground.

She pressed her hands to his shoulder.

"Not today," she whispered.

Her Dao responded. No hesitation. No doubt. Life flowed from her like riverwater, clean and cool. The boy gasped, chest rising in relief.

A new system message pinged at the edge of her vision:

But she wasn't looking at the message.
She looked at the boy.

His chest rose steady now. Color returned to his cheeks. The blood had stopped.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

The same tall, broad-shouldered man with the pickaxe stepped up behind her—calm, unreadable.

"Remember the offer," he said, voice low but firm. "We could use someone like you with us. And you need to get away from here before they steal you away."

She turned slowly, still kneeling.

He looked down at her—not unkindly. Just honest.

"A dual Dao user at Tier 1?" he said. "They won't let that go. The nobles, the sects, the wrong kinds of recruiters... They'll come smiling. And you won't see the chains until they're already tight."

Lira's eyes flicked to the system message still hovering in her vision.

Kelan nodded once, as if he knew what she was seeing.
"Use the phrase All Things End. He'll find it."

She looked past him—at the clinic, at the narrow alleys of the slums, at the people she'd fought to protect. She didn't want to leave, this was home.

But some part of her knew: staying would only end in chains. The Nobles were already too pushy.

Lira stood slowly, exhaustion pressing into her bones like lead.

"I'll think about it," she said.