Ten years later, on the continent of Malazen...

A courier walked through the Drought Desert and spotted a warning sign indicating a red zone. As he ventured past the sign, about three kilometers away, he heard the echoing sound of a Chthonian roar in the distance, growing increasingly louder. These reddish-black monstrous creatures, known as Chthonians, originated from the deepest abyss and were notorious for emitting terrifying sounds. They had the ability to mutate and grow into massive giants, and their colossal carcasses or skeletons were often found in perilous locations, serving as grim reminders of their existence.

The courier stood atop the desert highlands, scanning the horizon through his gas mask for any potential threats. In the distance, he spotted the dismembered carcass of an ancient serpent within a ravine surrounded by mountains and noticed an inhabited area nearby. Zooming in with his binoculars, he identified the black flag of the Demolitionists flying atop a large tent, and the sight of numerous scattered corpses indicated a recent battle.

Despite the unknown dangers, the courier pressed on toward his destination convinced that his work was more important than his life. As he walked, he felt a jolt beneath him, but knowing the area was prone to minor earthquakes, he continued without hesitation. The closer he got to the Demolitionist settlement, the more curious he became.

Passing by the lifeless bodies of the Demolitionists, the courier spoke nonchalantly to himself, 'You were not deterred, were you? Using firearms and radiation against such a creature...'"

The courier rummaged through the tent, carrying out his second task as a bandit, which involved scavenging valuable items left behind by the deceased. He discovered an open treasure chest that had been emptied, a table with a meal of raw anaconda meat, and a drink filled with fresh blood. On the side, he noticed a metal object that was untouched. He picked it up and wiped off the dust, realizing that it was a rare item.

"Jackpot! A jetpack!" exclaimed the courier in excitement. As a courier and a traveler, he knew that the jetpack was more useful than any other item he could have imagined. It could save his life when surrounded by danger, especially in this area. And when he grew tired from his journey, he could fly whenever he wanted.

While admiring the jetpack, the courier was interrupted by the sound of someone limping behind him. It was the Demolitionist Captain, badly injured and struggling to stand. Quickly assessing the situation, the courier decided to show mercy and leaned the old man against one of the tables. Unlike other thieves or bandits, the courier possessed a strong moral compass and chose not to use violence against the injured person, recognizing it as the right course of action.

The courier reached into his bag to retrieve an automatic injector loaded with various healing drugs and stimulants. He administered the injection to the old man's body, hoping it would aid in his recovery. As he waited for it to take effect, the courier pondered why the rare jetpack had been left behind. He wondered if that man had done so in a hurry or if he had been kind-hearted enough to leave it intentionally.

The courier hoped the old man could return the favor by letting him escape peacefully. Although he had other business to attend to, he was willing to wait and sacrifice more of his injector if necessary. Since his new jetpack was not going anywhere, he was content to do so.

"Message from whom?" asked the Captain, breathlessly. "I hope you have good news this time..."

“From the Assassin Academy,” answered the Courier. “They inquired about where—"

"Stop it!" the Captain cut him off. "I can't take it anymore. It's about that person again, isn't it?"

"Yes, the message is the same as before, but the reward keeps increasing."

The old man scratched his head in annoyance. "First the Chthonians, now this man! Can't you see the corpses? Don't you want to spare us from more suffering? Aren't the Nightblade and Occultist factions also powerless against that crazy cadet?"

The Courier sighed. "How many times have I told you, old man? It's useless to use firearms and radiation against such a terrifying creature!"

"What do you mean by 'such a terrifying creature'? A Chthonian or Fenrius Nightfang?" asked the Captain, his face darkening.

"Of course, Fenrius Nightfang," the Courier replied straightforwardly. "He wants to become the King—no, the Overlord of Malazen! That's why I've followed in his footsteps all the way here. Moreover, because of that Mad Cadet using my identity, my bag is filled with hundreds of death threats and one-on-one challenge letters."

The captain's gaze became vacant as he thought about the consequences of his mistake. The previous day, he had assumed that the Courier was warning him about the dangers of the Chthonians, but it turned out that a human was in question. He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that Fenrius would attack his settlement, as he had just wanted to stop by for a moment to eat. Now, the captain regretted not allowing the man to break his fast in peace, as it had cost the lives of his forty troops due to his folly.

He began to consider re-emphasizing this growing problem to Chief Vergan and propose a temporary alliance of the three factions to take care of the Mad Cadet.

The captain's thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the group of demolitionists, his subordinates, entering the tent with weapons at the ready. Realizing that he had been caught in the act, the courier grabbed the jetpack and ran toward the back of the tent, taking cover behind some boxes. He could have fought them all using a nitrous smoke bomb and a plasma gun since he had a bulletproof suit, but he chose not to fight as they were not targeting him, but the item he had stolen.

The demolitionists quickly caught up to him, but the courier had already activated the jetpack and flown up into the air, narrowly avoiding their gunshots. As he flew higher and higher, he could hear the demolitionists shouting curses at him from below.

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After landing safely outside of the settlement, the courier felt a rush of exhilaration from his close escape. Looking back, he saw that the demolitionists had abandoned their pursuit to tend to their injured captain, who they mistakenly believed had been attacked by the courier. Turning his attention to the jetpack in his hands, he felt grateful for the stroke of luck that had brought it to him. With a renewed sense of purpose, the courier continued on his journey, eager to see where his new acquisition would take him next.

*

In a treacherous region, the Demolitionist troops had waited patiently for over three hours, concealed in the highlands that overlooked a sprawling field crisscrossed by paths. They had identified steep hills ideal for an ambush, their verdant slopes providing excellent cover. Silently, they positioned themselves, each soldier tasked with surrounding their intended target upon his arrival.

As the minutes ticked by without any sign of their quarry, the commander turned to his subordinates and inquired, "What was his name again?"

"Fenrius Nightfang, sir," one of the soldiers responded. "He's not a familiar name among the Malazenians. He hails from Ardaenor, perhaps. He is being hunted relentlessly, from the southern tip of the Blaze Desert to the Dragon Mountains."

"Why haven't I heard of him?" the commander questioned, furrowing his brow.

"Goon goes by many names, Nick O'Problem, Wacky Wobblebottom, Gluteus Maximus, Kingpiss Asscrack..." the soldier replied, eliciting a chuckle from the commander.

"Kingpiss Asscrack? Stupid name," the commander focused his gaze forward again.

A tempest was created as a billowing cloud of dust and sand erupted, engulfing the sky and temporarily transforming the atmosphere into a chaotic maelstrom. Lightning crackled, disorienting their senses and giving the impression of a world turned upside down. In the distance, they caught sight of a figure sprinting with such velocity that the sand in its wake resembled undulating waves upon the ocean. This individual was hurtling directly into their carefully laid trap, evident by the racetrack left behind.

Not only were the Demolitionists in pursuit but also a swarm of assassins from the Nightblade faction was chasing the fugitive from behind, presenting an opportune moment for the Demolitionists to unveil themselves. The commander squeezed the trigger multiple times, the deafening gunshots reverberating through the air. A Jolly Roger Demolitionist, donning a skull mask and wielding twin guns, emerged from the hills, blocking the fugitive's path alongside the Nightblade squad.

The fugitive draconic's eyes darted back and forth as he realized he was surrounded from both sides. Though no stranger to dire situations, he was caught off guard when a portal materialized in the air, revealing the presence of a third faction: the pyromancers of the Occultists. With the Demolitionists aiming their rifles and pistols, the Nightblades readying their crossbows, and the Occultists channeling their fire magic, they all directed their fury at the lone figure. It became evident that all three of Malazen's most powerful factions had converged with a singular objective—to eliminate the troublemaker known as Fenrius Nightfang, one of the new cadets at the Assassin Academy.

Fenrius cautiously raised both hands in surrender, hoping to dissuade an immediate assault from the combined forces. To his surprise, they refrained from attacking, awaiting their commanders' orders. Despite the palpable tension in the air, the three commanders appeared to have reached a unified understanding of what needed to be done. Recognizing that the smallest provocation could ignite a bloodbath, they forged a pact: they would withhold any aggression toward each other until they had successfully claimed the bounty on Fenrius's head. In the event of success, they agreed to equitably split the bounty amongst themselves, forging a fragile truce amid their shared pursuit.

"Kingpiss—Fenrius Nightfang!" snarled the Demolitionist Commander, his voice dripping with venom, as a thunderous shout of hatred reverberated through the sky. "You have stolen something I desire! Will you face your demise or return it to me?"

Instead of Fenrius himself responding to the claim, the leader of the Nightblades retorted, "Who is Fenrius? His name is Banjou Cocaine! As fate would have it, he has also stolen something of great worth from our ranks!"

"It appears we all share a commonality," stated the lead pyromancer of the Occultists. "It is now clear that this individual has absconded with the shards of the three Great Runes. However, according to our records, this person is known neither as Banjou nor Fenrius, but rather as Quibblefluff von Wiggletail."

The ground quaked amidst their negotiation, and a mighty gust of wind swept in from the east, casting a reddish hue upon the sky. The roar of an approaching behemoth grew nearer, and the noxious scent of its presence permeated the air. A colossal Chthonian, resembling a gigantic centipede, emerged, adorned with diamond-like eyes and an impenetrable exoskeleton capable of withstanding lethal assaults. The three factions brandished their weapons, despite knowing deep within that their armaments would prove futile against the creature's impregnable armor. The Chthonian seethed with immense fury as if in open rebellion, its senses attuned to the crowd's presence and recalling the visage of the individual responsible for decimating its lair.

The Mad Cadet startled them by revealing a rare totem from within his robes and crushing it before their eyes, dusting his gloves with its remnants. This totem held great value, an exquisite artifact from the Chthonic Cult. It became evident that this man had ventured into Chthon's hole and performed something predictable. The earthquake intensified, and behind the ranks of the Demolitionist army, a verdant hill ascended, transforming into a golem-like creature awakened by the resounding chthonian roar. They now realized that wherever the Mad Cadet left his mark, an entity bearing a grudge would inevitably arise, and that's why the irony was on those who had sought to encircle him.

The colossal creature pulsed with vibrant green energy, its form now possessed by the Aetherial. Chaos erupted among the Demolitionist troops, screams and panic filling the air. Some of those infected by the virulent green contagion turned upon their own comrades with merciless efficiency. The combined onslaught of the Chthonian and Aetherial forces devastated the armies of the three factions, compelling them to unite against their formidable adversaries.

The intense battle left the ground in the Drought Desert cracked and fissured, with the damage spreading out in all directions. This was the moment the Mad Cadet had been waiting for. His hands fumbled within his black robes, but he couldn't find what he was looking for. It dawned on him that his jetpack had been stolen or lost while he was on the move, and it explained why his body felt lighter than usual. The only thing he had left in his pocket now was the rare seed he had gathered from the Mist Desert.

At this moment, Fenrius knew that he had screwed up everything he had planned, thinking to himself, ("Ah shit, here we go again...")

Without warning, sand holes erupted from beneath the forces, swallowing them whole as the giant green creature crashed down upon them. The ground collapsed beneath their feet, sending them hurtling into the depths of the abyss. The Chthonian's roars echoed through the air, but soon their presence was buried alive by the shifting sands of the highlands. Only a handful of survivors lived to tell the tale of this natural disaster.

As the sky cleared and regained its serenity, the clouds dissipated, and the sun rose over the desert, bathing the world in a soft golden light. Life resumed its usual pace after the Mad Cadet disappeared into the abyss, haunted by a flashback of his own demise. The following day, news of Fenrius Nightfang's death spread like wildfire across the Malazenian Peninsula.