Three days after the ambush,
the Pathbreakers stood at the threshold of a forgotten world.
The Weeping Expanse.
A scar upon the eastern frontier.
A land untouched by kings or guilds.
A graveyard of dreams and civilizations.
Before them stretched a wasteland of jagged cliffs, shattered forests, black rivers, and ruins half-swallowed by time.
The air itself tasted of ash and old magic.
It was beautiful.
And deadly.
[System Notification]
[Region Detected: Weeping Expanse.]
[Warning: Territory classified as "Abandoned Domain."]
[Threat Level: High.]
[Opportunity Rating: Sovereign Foundational Grade.]
Kaelen lowered his hood, wind tugging at his hair.
He stared at the broken horizon, feeling the pull in his very bones.
"This is where we build," he said quietly.
Behind him, the Pathbreakers looked out over the desolation.
Selina's hands tightened around her staff.
Mira's sharp eyes scanned the ruins for movement.
Eren grunted, the ghost of a grin on his scarred face.
"Home sweet home."
Kaelen smiled faintly.
"Not yet."
"First, we survive it."
The First Steps
The Pathbreakers moved cautiously into the Weeping Expanse.
The ground was treacherous — hidden sinkholes, jagged rocks, sudden mist that stole sight and sound.
Strange beasts roamed the ruins — twisted wolves with too many eyes, bird-like creatures with razor-edged wings.
The deeper they moved, the more the world seemed to resist them.
As if the land itself remembered kings, conquerors —
and wanted none of it again.
A Hidden Challenge
As dusk fell, they made camp in the crumbling shell of an ancient fortress.
Kaelen stood atop the broken walls, staring out into the mist-choked darkness.
He could feel it.
Something watching.
Something old.
The Weeping Expanse wasn't just abandoned.
It was cursed.
A test.
"Only those who bleed for their dreams can claim them," Kaelen muttered.
He accepted it.
He welcomed it.
Because anything too easily won wasn't worth having.
Meanwhile — Far Away
In the golden halls of the Royal Capital, news spread like wildfire.
The Pathbreakers had survived.
Had reached the Expanse.
Had refused to die quietly.
A king slammed his golden goblet against a wall, wine spilling like blood.
"Send more."
"More hunters.
More beasts.
More chaos."
The Legacy Families whispered among themselves —
dragons, titans, phoenixes — ancient bloodlines feeling a ripple of unease.
Because deep down, they knew:
"This is how all empires fall."
"Not to armies."
"But to ideas."
Back in the Expanse
That night, around the flickering fire, Kaelen gathered the Pathbreakers.
Their faces were drawn, their bodies battered, but their eyes burned bright.
He spoke — not loud, but clear:
"This land doesn't want us."
"The world doesn't want us."
"They want us to die here, forgotten."
He let the silence stretch.
Let the truth settle.
Then he smiled — slow, fierce, unbreakable.
"So we carve our names into the bones of this land."
"We break the chains."
"We build a kingdom with blood, stone, and will."
One by one, the Pathbreakers rose.
No speeches.
No oaths.
Only steel in their eyes.
They understood.
They were no longer just a guild.
They were founders.
Pioneers.
The first Sovereigns of a new world.
And nothing —
kings, dragons, gods —
nothing would stop them.