The searing pain of absorbing his karmic debt left Elias reeling, but the approaching karmic vortex and the immediate threat of Sage Arthan's direct intervention offered no respite. His gambit with the forged Bloodkin evidence had bought Jadeheart a brief reprieve from the Stoneborn, but Arthan was not so easily fooled.
The Observer's fragmented consciousness, now a barely audible whisper in Elias's mind, provided a desperate warning: "He knows. Arthan. The purge... it's for you."
And then, a new, chilling decree echoed across the decimated Bureau network, bypassing all local controls. A Rank 7 Sentinel, a legendary figure of immense power, directly bound to Sage Arthan's will, was dispatched. His singular mission: eliminate Elias and Mei Lin. There would be no arrests, no trials. Just annihilation.
Elias knew the Sentinel's power was absolute, his loyalty to Arthan unbreakable. They couldn't fight him, not in the open. They needed to disappear.
"The sewers!" Elias gasped, grabbing Mei Lin's arm. "The ley lines beneath the city are too unstable. He won't follow."
They plunged into the dark, stench-filled labyrinth of Jadeheart's ancient sewers. The air was thick with the scent of decay and stagnant water. But more importantly, it vibrated with the chaotic hum of disturbed ley lines. The raw Prana, disrupted by Veyra's bomb, surged erratically through the subterranean channels, making precise scrying and targeted movement almost impossible for a high-ranked cultivator like the Sentinel. He would be hampered, blinded by the very chaos Arthan himself had initiated.
They moved through the treacherous passages, the sound of the Sentinel's distant, booming steps echoing above them, growing fainter as they descended. The sewers were a maze, a dark, churning reflection of the fractured Ledger above.
Hours passed in tense, silent flight. Just as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm them, they stumbled into a hidden cavern, faintly lit by flickering, otherworldly lanterns. Figures emerged from the shadows—a small, cloaked group of individuals with intricate, geometric tattoos adorning their faces and hands. Their eyes, though wary, held a strange, knowing glint.
"You are welcome, wanderers," a wizened old woman, her voice surprisingly gentle, greeted them. "We have been watching. The threads of karma are unraveling, as foretold."
This was the underground cult that worshipped the karmic primordials. They had existed in secret for centuries, preserving ancient knowledge, observing the slow decay of the Ledger. They believed Arthan's system was a false god, a perversion of true balance. And they saw Elias and Mei Lin as instruments of the coming change.
"The Sentinel hunts you," the old woman continued, her gaze piercing. "But here, in the heart of the true chaos, you are safe. We will hide you. We await the return of the ancient ones."
Elias looked at Mei Lin, her face streaked with grime and fatigue, but her eyes resolute. They had found temporary shelter, a brief respite from Arthan's relentless pursuit. But they were now beholden to a cult, driven by an apocalyptic prophecy. Their path continued to twist into increasingly strange and dangerous territory.