Contents
The Perils of the Road
The caravan moved with the grim, efficient purpose of a funeral procession. The morning light was a soft, watery grey, barely managing to pierce the perpetual gloom of the forest road that snaked away from Havenstone.
Ahead of them, a squad of Union Faction soldiers marched with a discipline that was both reassuring and intimidating. Their armor, stripped of any ornamentation, reflected the silent, hardened resolve of men who had seen too much.
Behind them, the two covered wagons rumbled over the uneven ground, the creak of their wheels a monotonous, grating rhythm.
The atmosphere was as heavy as the morning mist. The soldiers were professionals, but their distrust was a palpable force. They kept their distance, their eyes flicking to Revan with an unnerving combination of respect and suspicion. He was the hero who had saved their city, but he was also a Void Root cultivator—a known conduit for the very chaos they were being paid to investigate.
The two Union veterans leading the group, a grizzled man named Commander Galt and a younger, more acerbic soldier named Kaelus, were the worst. Kaelus in particular seemed to find a reason to glare at Revan with every step.
Revan, for his part, felt the weight of their judgment. He was used to the fear and suspicion of others, but now, with Volkov’s words ringing in his ears, it was different. It wasn’t just a personal prejudice; it was a political knife at his back. He was a tool to be used, and if he failed, he would be discarded and hunted.
The thought was a cold, sharp thing in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of his newfound purpose.
Sylas, ever the watchful ranger, stayed to the side of the caravan, her eyes constantly sweeping the tree line. She moved like a shadow, her hand never far from the hilt of her dagger.
“They don’t trust you,” she murmured to Revan during a brief rest stop. “They see you as a walking bomb.”
“That is what they want me to be,” Revan replied, his voice a low rasp.
Kaelen, surprisingly, was not a source of frustration. The scholar was unusually sober, his face pale and his brow furrowed in concentration. He walked alongside the second wagon, occasionally placing a hand on the side as if to feel the presence of the unconscious woman inside.
“It’s the corruption, isn’t it?” he said, his eyes on the road. “That’s why they sent you. Your root is the only thing that can touch it without being consumed.”
His mind, for once, was razor-sharp, cutting through the politics to the brutal logic of the situation.
Just as the sun began to break through the cloud cover, the silence was shattered by a guttural snarl. A corrupted beast, a grotesque fusion of wolf and boar with sickly green tendrils pulsing from its hide, burst from the undergrowth. Its eyes glowed with the malevolent, chaotic energy that Revan had come to know all too well.
“Defensive formation!” Galt roared. The Union soldiers immediately formed a tight circle, their spears out, ready to meet the charge.
But the beast ignored them, its corrupted senses homing in on the source of the purest Void energy—Revan. It lunged, its tusks dripping with venomous saliva.
Sylas was faster. An arrow flew from her bow, finding its mark in the creature’s shoulder, slowing its charge. But it was not enough.
Revan didn’t draw his sword. Instead, he stepped forward, his hand outstretched. A wave of dark, shimmering energy, not unlike the beast’s own, rippled from his palm.
But where the beast’s energy was a destructive chaos, Revan’s was a void—a total absence. The corrupted tendrils on the creature’s hide withered and snapped, the sickly green light fading to a dull grey.
The beast itself seemed to lose its cohesion, its snarl turning to a confused whimper as its chaotic core was pulled into Revan’s Void Root, an invisible, consuming vortex.
He felt the cold, familiar drain of power, the painful ingestion of foreign energy. Each time he fed the Void, a part of him wondered what was left behind.
The beast collapsed, its body turning to dust and blowing away in the wind, leaving not a trace behind. The Union soldiers stared, their spears still held at the ready.
Kaelus, his eyes wide, muttered under his breath, “That’s not right. What kind of monster are we traveling with?”
Commander Galt slowly lowered his spear, his face a mask of awe. He approached Revan, his gaze no longer filled with suspicion, but with a new, grudging respect.
“We’ve fought these creatures before,” he said, his voice quiet. “We always leave behind a mess. A scar on the land. You… you made it disappear.”
He didn’t offer a thank you or an apology, but the acknowledgment was enough. The tension, for the first time, began to ease.
They made camp under the fading light, a small, practical circle of tents set up by the Union soldiers. The air was cool, and the simple scent of woodsmoke filled the space around the small, crackling fire. It was the first true moment of peace they had since leaving Havenstone.
Around the fire, the silence was not empty; it was a quiet space for them to grapple with their own thoughts.
Revan sat cross-legged by the flames, his gaze fixed on the dancing light. He could still feel the lingering essence of the beast he had consumed—a faint, bitter taste of chaos on his spiritual senses.
He was a weapon, not a healer, and Volkov’s words rang in his ears like a curse. A living anomaly. He glanced over at the wagon where the woman lay. She was an anomaly too, a fellow traveler on a path he could not understand, marked by a sickness he could only contain.
For the first time, his cursed solitude felt less like a burden and more like a shared destiny.
Kaelus, however, remained an island of hostility. He sat apart from the others, his back to the fire, the quiet shick-shick of his whetstone on his blade the only sound he made, his eyes a cold, unwavering glare fixed on Revan’s back.
Commander Galt watched Revan from across the fire, his expression thoughtful. He wasn’t a fool; he knew a political weapon when he saw one. Volkov had sent them with a threat, but after seeing Revan’s power, Galt now viewed him as a strategic asset, a unique key that could unlock doors his own forces couldn’t breach.
This was a man to be handled with care, not suspicion.
Nearby, Kaelen nursed a cup of warm water, forgoing his usual wine. He was still reeling from the day’s events, his mind buzzing with the woman’s strange, cryptic whispers.
Warp. Core. Subspace. They sounded like ancient, forbidden runes, a language of power from a sect so old it had been erased from history. This was no drunken stupor; this was an honest-to-god puzzle, a mystery more intoxicating than any vintage.
The woman was not just a patient; she was a living library, and he had to decipher her secrets before the corruption claimed her.
On the perimeter of the firelight, Sylas sat with her bow resting across her knees, her eyes sharp and focused on the shadows beyond the camp. She had watched the soldiers, their grim faces softening with a grudging respect for Revan.
She saw how they moved now, with a cohesion they lacked before the fight. She didn’t trust them, not truly, but she understood their kind. They were a pack, and Revan’s unique skill had made him the new alpha, whether he wanted the role or not.
Her pack was a small one, a collection of outcasts, but it was stronger than she had ever imagined.
Inside the quiet darkness of the wagon, Meilin’s fevered mind drifted between worlds. She dreamed of the stars, of a starship bridge filled with bright, comforting lights and the familiar chime of a tricorder.
She heard the voice of a commander, a voice she knew was her own, but it was a voice that seemed impossibly distant now. She felt the warmth of a fire and the cold, lingering pain of her wound.
She was a medical officer, an oath-sworn protector, but her hands, she saw in her dream, were now covered in dirt and blood, and she had nothing left but a fragmented memory of a mission she had to complete, even if she couldn’t remember what it was.
RMG Nexus Universe & Cultivation Stories
The RMG Nexus Universe is more than a project—it’s a living, breathing multiverse of imagination where fantasy, science fiction, and gaming converge.
Within this creative network, each world offers its own journey. You can immerse yourself in timeless cultivation stories on the Realm of Origin, where ancient powers, spiritual roots, and the trials of destiny shape unforgettable heroes.
These cultivation stories also serve as gateways into the broader cultivation world, linking legends, guilds, and hidden histories across generations.
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And for those who seek the stars, RMG Nexus invites you to explore daring sci fi stories filled with advanced technology, strange new worlds, and mysteries that push the boundaries of human imagination.
Together, these worlds form a diverse tapestry of adventures—stories to read, games to play, and universes to discover—all united by one creative vision: to build a nexus where every journey feels connected, and every path leads to something greater.
The Cultivation World
Enter the rich cultivation world, where every story is steeped in mystery, struggle, and growth.
In this realm, characters embark on spiritual and physical journeys, striving to refine their strength and ascend to greater heights. Cultivation is more than just power — it is discipline, discovery, and the pursuit of destiny.
Within the RMG Nexus Universe, cultivation serves as the backbone of epic battles, hidden secrets, and profound character arcs. Many of our cultivation stories draw from this same foundation, giving readers a vivid look at the struggles and triumphs within the cultivation world.
Between adventures, you can join our free chat room, a dedicated space for registered users to trade insights, discuss lore, and relax with fellow enthusiasts.
You can also explore the Exocomps hub, where the tales of our enigmatic, synth-born companions come to life.
Xianxia Cultivation
Central to our stories is the tradition of xianxia cultivation, inspired by Chinese mythology and folklore.
Characters like Revan and his companions reflect the classic xianxia hero’s path, where destiny collides with hidden powers, and every step forward is tempered by trials.
Divine tribulations, ancient martial arts, and confrontations with powerful forces mark their journey. Survival is only the beginning — their true goal is knowledge, mastery, and the chance to transcend mortality itself.
Every victory and every setback reshapes the foundations of the cultivation world.
In many ways, xianxia cultivation provides the lens through which our cultivation stories unfold, blending myth, philosophy, and relentless struggle into a single epic tradition.
This is cultivation at its purest form: the endless pursuit of strength, wisdom, and transcendence.
Continue the Journey
The Last Man on the Wall is just one thread in our expanding web of cultivation stories and epic sagas. Revan’s journey is long and perilous, filled with shifting alliances, dangerous secrets, and revelations that shape the Realm of Origin.
Each chapter deepens the lore and challenges him to grow further on his path of cultivation. To follow every step of this evolving adventure, explore the full collection of chapters below, and experience how one tale connects to the wider cultivation world that defines the RMG Nexus Universe.
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