Groups of males slowly infiltrated Spirit City, each heading in different directions and blending with the crowds. One of them wandered aimlessly, drool dripping from his mouth.
As he stumbled through the streets, he suddenly crashed into another male, the drool splattering onto the man’s arm.
"Watch where you’re going!" the male shouted, wiping his arm with disgust. Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation. His mind went blank, his skin turned pale, and his eyes beca unfocused. Greenish tint began to spread to his nails.
As the transformation took hold, the infected male staggered, his breath becoming ragged. Panic spread through the crowd as onlookers noticed his change. His eyes turned a sickly shade of green, matching the color creeping up his nails.
People started to back away, whispering in fear and confusion. The once lively marketplace fell silent, tension thick in the air. The infected male let out a low, guttural growl, and those closest to him scread, scrambling to get away.
anwhile, the other infiltrators continued to move through the town, their presence unnoticed in the growing chaos. Each carried the sa infection, spreading it silently among the town people.
Unaware of the impending danger, the crowd at the beauty contest continued to cheer and shout, their focus solely on the stage.
***
Mount Zenith, near the Silver Wolf tribe with its three thousand steps, was shrouded in an eerie calm.
The old priest Bard paced anxiously around the temple, his thoughts a storm of worry and dread.
His eyes, red and weary, stared out at the snow-covered landscape, searching for signs of the impending doom.
With a heavy sigh, Bard walked over to the rocking chair by the temple’s entrance and sank into it, leaning back as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. The cold air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed, lost in the tumult of his mind.
"I shouldn’t change anything about what’s going to happen, but I can only pray that everyone survives this disaster," he muttered to himself, his voice a whisper in the vast silence. His heart pounded as he closed his eyes, vivid and terrifying images flashing before him—blood staining the pristine snow, people fighting desperately for food and survival.
A dark apocalypse was about to start, and Bard felt the weight of it pressing down on him. He could sense the looming catastrophe, a shadow ready to engulf everything.
As Bard sat there, the wind howled through the temple’s open door, carrying with it the scent of impending doom.
He could only hope that his prayers would be enough, that so miracle might turn the tide.
But deep down, he knew the darkness was inevitable. The dark apocalypse was coming, and there was no stopping it.
Bard was aware that this dark period wouldn’t last long. He knew Kyra was on the verge of discovering the full extent of her abilities and her beast form. His premonitions told him that Kyra would play a crucial role in the struggle ahead.
The temple’s silence seed to echo his thoughts.
He hoped she would harness her strength and bring a glimr of hope in the encroaching darkness.
The impending chaos would challenge her like never before, but Bard believed her true potential would shine through, possibly steering the tide in a way that might alter their fates.
For now, all he could do was wait and watch, trusting that Kyra’s journey would bring the change they so desperately needed.
"Master, why have you been so worried for the past week? If sothing is bothering you, you can tell ," Ayoo said, approaching from behind.
Old Priest Bard turned to Ayoo, managing a smile despite his troubled gaze. "Oh, my sweet Ayoo! It’s just that I’ve been feeling stressed lately, nothing more," he said, his eyes drifting back to the distant view outside windows.
Ayoo, knowing his master well, realized that if Bard was showing such signs of stress, it was likely sothing significant.
Though anxious, Ayoo respected his master’s desire for privacy and chose not to press the issue. He stayed close, offering silent support and hoping that, in ti, Bard would share whatever was weighing on his mind.
"We’re safe, don’t be anxious," Old Priest Bard suddenly said, his tone more reassuring than before. Ayoo looked at him, puzzled.
"Everything will begin in Celestia and end in Celestia... we’re safe," Old Priest Bard murmured, his gaze distant. He tried to convey a sense of calm, though the weight of the impending events still seed to burden him.
"Master, what are you talking about? What’s going to start and end? I don’t understand anything..." Ayoo asked, his voice filled with anxiety.
"Nothing," Old Priest Bard replied, forcing a reassuring smile. "It’s nothing to worry about." Despite his attempt to be calming, his eyes betrayed the depth of his concern.
Ayoo’s worry deepened as he saw through the forced calmness of his master. He stepped closer, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Master, please," Ayoo pressed, "You’ve been so troubled lately. If sothing is wrong, we need to face it together. I can’t stand seeing you like this."
The Old Priest Bard sighed, his gaze drifting back to the snowy landscape outside. The silence stretched between them before he spoke again, his voice heavy with resignation.
"It’s not just a simple problem, Ayoo. What’s coming... it’s sothing far greater than anything we’ve faced before. It’s an old darkness stirring, sothing that will test everything we know."
Ayoo’s eyes widened. "What do you an? How can we prepare for sothing so overwhelming?"
The Old Priest Bard placed a comforting hand on Ayoo’s shoulder and didn’t say anything.
The Old Priest Bard thought back to the warnings he had given Kyra before. He had hoped that she would be prepared, that she would rise to the challenge and handle the situation with the strength and wisdom needed.
His heart was heavy with the weight of the impending darkness. If the situation spiraled out of control, he feared that the entire Beastworld might be engulfed in chaos and despair.
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