The route to the junkyard was a twisted echo of Orr: littered with the bodies of fallen Kestrels and patrolled by Aetherblades who had been reduced to mindless Risen—a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemies. And there, waiting in the center of all that decay, was Ankka. Ankka threw every horrifying trick she had at us, even unleashing Void energy from the nearby corrupted jade. As we fought, she made it clear she believes we're responsible for all this chaos—for the Void itself. That it's the natural end point of all our meddling and our hubris. I...can't say she's wrong. But her idea that we need to just accept the inevitable and let the world reset? I will never stand for that. Ankka was defiant to her last breath, but that breath finally came. The Extractor is ours. ***