Asari walked through the fading mist of the trial's aftermath, each step heavy with the lingering weight of the Stone of Gluttony. Though the beasts had vanished and the grotesque illusions of flesh and madness had faded, the hunger remained—a gnawing presence in his chest that refused to die. The silence of the gorge was deceptive. Inside, war still raged.
He stood at the edge of a jagged cliff where the mist opened to reveal the wider world beyond. Far in the distance, the great Dummer Continent sprawled—mountains, rivers, ruins. A land waiting to be devoured by ambition, yet Asari only felt hollow. Not for lack of appetite, but because the Stone inside him would never be sated.
He exhaled slowly, trying to center himself. His glaive pulsed in his grip, the weapon now intimately tied to his presence. With every monster he felled, with every surge of the Stone's power, the glaive seemed to adapt—growing sharper, hungrier.
The wind shifted. Behind him, the entity from the trial lingered like a lingering echo, though its body was gone. Its voice remained in his thoughts.
"You will always hunger. The question is... what will you do when there is nothing left to feed on?"
The question haunted him.
He didn't want to be ruled by this power, but he couldn't deny that it had changed him. He didn't need to feed on flesh—he wasn't a beast. But the more he resisted, the more he realized the Stone didn't merely crave bodies. It wanted growth, conquest, experience. His victories had become its meals.
"This thing... it's not just a curse," Asari muttered under his breath. "It's a path."
One that would either elevate him—or destroy him.
A distant rumble stirred the stillness. Asari looked skyward, eyes narrowing. The clouds above twisted unnaturally, not from weather, but from presence. Something had sensed the awakening of the Stone. He could feel it in the air—a subtle shift. A pressure.
Someone... or something was watching.
Not now. Not yet.
He turned away, gripping the glaive tightly. His body was exhausted. The trial had pushed him far beyond his limits, and his soul felt frayed. But there was one person who needed to know he was still here.
Aicha.
He moved across the jagged terrain, leaping over crevices and dodging debris. Asari moved like a shadow, cutting through the wild terrain, ignoring the blood still dried on his arms. His body ached, but the Stone's influence helped. His stamina rebounded unnaturally fast. His wounds were faint now, closing quicker than they should.
Even now, the Stone was feeding.
After an hour, he finally found her.
Aicha sat by a crooked tree at the edge of a small clearing, her wheelchair parked among the roots. She had waited without complaint, her eyes alert despite the long silence. The moment she saw him, her lips trembled—but she didn't cry.
"Asari," she whispered.
His pace slowed. He wasn't sure what to say. The trial had changed him, even if he still wore the same body. The shadows in his gaze were heavier now.
"You're back," she said, her voice steadier than he expected.
Asari nodded. "The trial's done."
"You look… different."
"I am." He paused, his voice low. "But I'm still me."
Aicha reached out without hesitation, placing a hand on his. "Then that's enough."
Asari stared at her hand. The Stone pulsed inside his chest, tasting her emotions, the purity of her loyalty. It stirred, hungered—but it could not consume this. Not yet. Not ever, he hoped.
"Do you still feel it?" she asked.
He didn't need to ask what she meant. The hunger. The Stone. The endless craving.
"I do," he said. "It's always there."
Aicha frowned, her brows drawing together. "Will it get worse?"
Asari didn't answer right away. He looked to the distant horizon, to the lands they had yet to cross, to the secrets they had yet to uncover.
"It will get deeper," he admitted. "But so will I."
Aicha nodded slowly. "Then let's make sure you don't walk that path alone."
He helped her into the chair, then took the handles and began to push it forward. The path ahead wasn't smooth, but neither of them hesitated. Each bump and rise in the ground was just another step in the journey.
Asari didn't know where the hunger would lead him. He didn't know what monsters—internal or external—he'd have to face. But for now, the burden was his to carry. And in Aicha's silent resolve beside him, he found a thread of clarity.
The hunger would never fade. The Stone would always whisper.
But it would not break him.
Not while he still remembered who he was.