"Hmm?" Ezra’s face tilts in confusion, standing upright in one go.

"I’ve completely recovered?"

How unexpected.

Ezra’s body abruptly convulses as another surge of discomfort ran through his veins.

Not entirely, it seems.

[Take it easy] says Zydrax. [Your body hasn’t fully adapted to the new state of being that the portal forced upon you.

The physical strain is your body struggling to return to a stable form.

You were pushed beyond normal limits, and the aftereffects of such an extreme alteration will take time to heal]

"I see" Ezra responds in an exhausted sigh.

In his current state, Ezra is no different to a sick patient.

Zydrax has different thoughts on the situation you see.

[Looking at it... it is unbelievable that you’re able to stand up already] Zydrax pauses.

[To have travelled the distance between star fields at such a speed, the portal didn’t just transport your body—it bent the very fabric of time and space around you in a way that even I don’t understand.

The discomfort you’re feeling are a result of your body being warped to survive such an extreme process]

The lingering ache in Ezra’s gut finally faded, leaving behind a faint soreness that quickly dissipated.

He stretched his limbs, rolling his shoulders as he let out a slow exhale.

"How long was that?" Ezra questions, shaking his head.

[Exactly thirty minutes] Zydrax answers, his voice carrying an analytical tone.

"Impressive?" Ezra muses. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

[Not impressive. Extraordinary] Zydrax clarifies. [Did you not see your friends laying listlessly on the ground? As transcendents, they would probably feel the aftereffects for days—maybe weeks—so that’s even if they survive the transition]

Ezra furrows his brows, making a smug face. "So...I’m just, better?"

[No, douchebag. I presume it’s because of your status as a Sovereign. It’s the only reasonable explanation for why your body adapted this fast]

"Couldn’t it be because of my dragon bloodline?"

[It’s not] Zydrax shut down the argument. [Time and space do not between races]

[Besides, your <Sovereign Space> basically allows you to bend reality, and you have a universe in your soul that you can enter and exit at will. So it’s not surprising that you would be able to adapt to your biology warping. Since it is already much different from that of not only humans, but most species]

[Still] Zydrax pauses. [It’s hard to say for certain. The nature of your existence as a Sovereign bends a lot of conventional rules. Your body might’ve instinctively adjusted to the transportation method, forcing itself to stabilize at a much faster rate. But again, it’s all conjecture]

Ezra scoffed. "So basically, we have no real answers"

[More or less.]

"Great"

[In anycase, since you’re already here, why don’t you do some sightseeing before we leave.]

’Hmm..’

Zydrax’s proposal was tempting.

Now that he was no longer preoccupied with the aftereffects of crossing realms, Ezra takes a good long look around.

The Desolate Madlands stretched endlessly in every direction, its crimson skies casting an eerie glow over the jagged, war-torn landscape.

He had originally come here to stabilize the side effects from the previous portal mishap, but now that he was here, he figured he might as well explore.

The last time he had been in this realm, he was a mere transcendent—strong, but not enough to traverse these lands freely.

He had to avoid detection, constantly masking his presence to evade the Madmen that roamed the land like restless ghosts.

But now?

Ezra smirks.

He was a Third Step Nascent.

He had no need to hide.

Without further hesitation, Ezra leaps into the air, taking flight.

The moment he ascended, he feels an astonishing difference.

Unlike his usual effortless movements, flying here took significantly more energy.

Three times as much, if he had to guess.

"This is annoying" Ezra muttered.

[Expected] Zydrax chimed in. [Your body is adapting to the Desolate Madlands’ unique energy field. It’s different from standard space. That’s likely why you’re experiencing higher expenditure]

Ezra shook his head but pressed on.

His destination was the Madman Territory—an enormous expanse deep within the Madlands where the Madmen congregated.

In anycase, the last time he was here, he couldn’t fly at all, so this is still better.

Unlike before, he wouldn’t have to sneak through like prey avoiding a predator.

Just as the term said, Ezra is all meaning of the word, intent on simply sightseeing.

But on that note, doesn’t that make this his fifth expedition?

Perhaps unofficial expedition since sightseeing is his only aim?

Ezra crossed the barren expanse in a fraction of the time it had previously taken him.

He had expected his flight to be inefficient, but even with the higher energy cost, he arrives at the towering mountain range shockingly fast and without issues.

"Damn" Ezra muttered as he landed atop a jagged cliff, surveying the land below. "Didn’t think I’d get here that fast"

[The advantage of unrestricted flight] Zydrax noted. [When you were merely a transcendent, traversing the Madlands required caution. Now, you look much more dignified]

Ezra scoffed. "You sound proud"

[I am proud] Zydrax chuckled. [It’s satisfying to see how far you’ve come]

Ezra didn’t respond, though he did smirk.

Below, the Madmen continued their mechanical existence, wandering aimlessly, their half-metal bodies clanking and rattling.

It was similar, no exactly the same as to how they were the last time he was here.

Some were scavenging, others were fighting and some simply standing motionless, as if awaiting new directives.

Ezra chuckled. "Still the same creepy bastards"

However, his smirk falters as a particular memory surfaced—one that had sent him running before.

A Nascent Madman.

Back then, it had been the only entity in the Madlands strong enough to make him flee.

He hadn’t dared to face it, knowing full well he wouldn’t survive a direct confrontation.

But now?

Ezra’s expression lights up with an evil grin as he reminded of his unfinished business.

Without hesitation, he shot toward the farthest peak of the mountain range—the last known location of the Nascent Madman.

Speaking of unfinished business, Ezra wondered how Vorath was doing, while simultaneously curious as to what action the Rosveller Foundation eventually decided to take.

In anycase, since they hadn’t contacted him, perhaps they had it under control?

Ezra snickers at the thought.

’Knowing them...’ Ezra can’t help but laugh imagining their losses.

Since Ezra hadn’t dropped the artifacts he obtained, the contract couldn’t be said to have been fulfilled.

As a result, he’s not getting the artifacts from the foundation members, nor is getting the 200 Million Cryst monthly salary.

Still, Ezra was playing the long game and already planned out just how exactly he would extort them even more when the time was ripe.

The only variable would be whether of not they were actually able to get someone who could defeat Vorath.

To this, Ezra was sure that without his input i.e knowledge on Vorath’s abilities and strength level, it is impossible.

So there’s no fear.

’Oh yeah’

In between that, Ezra also remembers that he ought to revisit that secret realm again soon to steal more artifacts from Vorath’s stash.

In any case, Ezra transverses the mountain range more than ten times faster than he did the first time, reaching the same stop that took him eight days in less then eight hours.

As Ezra neared his destination, something felt off.

The usual mechanical noises—the ceaseless clanking and grinding—were absent.

A deep, unnatural silence hung over the mountains.

Ezra narrows his eyes.

"What is all this?"

[Unusual] Zydrax murmured, equally intrigued. [The Madmen never stop moving. There should be activity here]

Ezra landed atop a rocky outcrop and scanned the area.

The mountain range that once rattled with constant noise now lay still, and Ezra discerns why immediately.

Crouching on the rocky outcrop, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the landscape.

The sight before him was nothing short of surreal.

The once-thriving battlefield of the Madlands—where the mechanical monstrosities known as the Madmen lurked in endless battle frenzies—had been reduced to a wasteland of twisted metal and broken bodies.

Shattered limbs of steel and rusted iron were strewn haphazardly across the terrain, some still twitching with the dying remnants of corrupted energy.

Severed arms, still clutching weapons, lay amidst crushed skulls and jagged torsos, their gears and pistons exposed like the organs of some grotesque, mechanical beasts.

The scent of scorched metal and leaking oil permeated the air, mixing with the acrid smell of something wrong.

Ezra’s expression darkened.

"The hell happened here?" His voice was low, cautious.

[How unusual, this is getting interesting] Zydrax remarks, his tone laced nonchalant.

Ezra took a step forward down to the ground, his boots crunching against scattered debris.

A torso, half-crushed, still had its faceplate intact—a hollow, empty stare burned into its iron visage.

He nudged it with his foot, and the body shifted, revealing deep, precise cuts along its frame.

"This wasn’t just a battle" Ezra muttered. "This was a massacre"

The mountain range that once rattled with endless war now lay eerily silent, the corpses of the mechanical madmen serving as the only testament to the carnage that had taken place.

Ezra’s gut twisted—not in pain this time, but in unease.

Something had ended them.

And it wasn’t him.

Beyond all else, Ezra hadn’t noticed before, but the lack of sound here is eerily unnerving.

Deciding to investigate the cause, Ezra extended his senses, reaching out with his perception.

At first, nothing.

Then—

A faint sound.

A rhythmic clicking.

Ezra’s eyes sharpens as he pinpoints its source—deep within the mountains.

Activating Universal Concealment, he descends cautiously, moving toward the underground caverns where the Madmen manufacturing facilities lay.

The deeper Ezra went, the clearer the sounds became.

Click. Clank. Whirr.

It wasn’t just machinery—it was deliberate.

Ezra’s eyes glowed faintly as he reached the cavern’s depths.

And then he saw it.

The Nascent Madman.

The same one that had once made him flee.

Ezra’s grip tightens in delight. ’So, you’re still here?’

The Nascent Madman was hunched over a massive mechanical construct, its skeletal fingers deftly working on the internal circuits of a large, dormant machine—one of the madmen factories.

Ezra frowns. ’What the hell is it doing?’

[It’s fixing something,] Zydrax observed, his voice tinged with realization. [Ezra, this is big. If we can take whatever knowledge it has, I’ll be able to speed up the repairs of the factory we have at least twice as fast]

Zydrax didn’t need to finish. Ezra already knew.

Destroy the Madman. Steal its knowledge.

Simple.

Ezra prepared to strike—

Then he froze.

Another figure entered the chamber.

Another Madman.

Ezra’s mind halted.

The new arrival stepped forward, its movements eerily smooth, its glowing eyes dimly flickering as it approached the Nascent Madman.

Then—

It spoke.

A distorted, guttural voice.

"You have completed the recalibration?"

Ezra’s heart pounded.

The Nascent Madman responded in a mechanical rasp.

"Affirmative. The restoration sequence is seventy-eight percent complete. Full capacity will be restored in approximately—"

A pause.

"—three cycles."

Ezra’s breath hitched.

They were communicating.

Ezra swallowed, forcing himself to remain still. His mind raced.

From the records he had read, the Madmen were supposed to be broken remnants, self-sustaining but never truly sentient.

Yet here they were—planning.

Restoration sequence? Full capacity?

What the hell were they restoring?

A cold chill crept down Ezra’s spine.

Zydrax’s voice cut through his thoughts, firm and urgent.

[Ezra. We need to leave. Now.]

Ezra didn’t argue.

For the first time in a long time—

A deep sense of dread filled him.

Whatever was happening here, it was far bigger than anything he had anticipated.