Oak-haven was no longer a village; it was a dying memory being thrust upright by a godless force. The Colossus, a petrified titan from an eon when the earth trembled beneath the footsteps of deities, shook three centuries of dust, ash, and human arrogance from its massive shoulders. The ground beneath Silarias’ heavy boots was no longer familiar soil, but …

The sun over the Ward was a cruel observer. It did not bring warmth; it brought a sweltering, humid weight that turned the air into a stagnant soup of industrial grease and sea salt. Under the shadow of Mama Ghoul’s porch, the atmosphere was as thick as the tobacco smoke curling from Juro’s pipe. He sat there like a relic …

The Great Upheaval was weeks behind them. Weeks since the Nobodies crawled out of the gutters to demand their freedom. Today, the Ward was a hybrid monster of rust and glory. The air hung heavy, a sharp cocktail of wet mud and freshly forged bronze mixed with the intoxicating scent of Anima fluid steaming from market stalls. Where the stench …

The ash rain that had plagued the Bastard’s Ward for an eternity finally ceased, dissolving like a black funerary shroud pulled away by the invisible hand of a dying god. For the first time in seven long generations, the sky was no longer a suffocating tomb of industrial soot and coal-choked despair. Instead, it opened up into a deep, churning …

In a world slowly suffocating under the gift of the Corrupted God, lost souls wander within a shadow of deceit because legends whisper of an end to the suffering through the coming of the Bansaday. Seven lifetimes of ash and training and seven reincarnations of sacrifice lead to one final war to shatter the chains of all races in the …

Atop the smoking ruins of the central spire, a metamorphosis unfolded that would set the Weaver’s ancient scrolls ablaze, because the gauntlets Frey and Freya were no longer mere instruments of war. They began to breathe, pulsing with a rhythmic and predatory hunger, while black metal, darker than the deepest vacuum of space, flowed like liquid obsidian over Silarias’ arms, …

The sky above the Ward tore apart as if reality itself were a cheap cloth being shredded by a Raging God. Lady Ouroboros drifted above the scorched earth because her human silhouette was now a fading and distorted lie. Her anatomy had discarded the shackles of biology to flow and convulse as a churning mass of emerald mercury. She was …

While the ground in the Iron Ward trembled beneath the General’s footsteps, hell broke loose at the Western Gate on the other side of the city. The western gate was no longer a mere structure but a geometric hellscape where tens of thousands of Executioner Gears stood with shields locked in an immovable wall of chrome and magnetic hatred. It …

Six years before the world became a mechanical tomb, there was a boy named Zephyr who lived as an orphan on the fringes of Estrella. He was a child of the dust who ran so hard that the wind was his only true friend. His family, which consisted of his bright eyed little sister and his ailing mother, were the …

Six years before the world became a mechanical tomb, there was a boy named Zephyr who lived as an orphan on the fringes of Estrella. He was a child of the dust who ran so hard that the wind was his only true friend. His family, which consisted of his bright eyed little sister and his ailing mother, were the …