The Fifth Path did not pause. Its pulse spread outward, rippling across mountains, rivers, and forests, carrying whispers of possibility into corners not yet dreamed. Where one warband fell, another rose, reshaping history in real time. Where one village crumbled under the weight of unchecked prayer, another thrived, inventing rites no god had prescribed.
Aria's roots quivered, weaving into the lattice itself, feeling the rhythm of life and faith as it surged past them. "It's learning… evolving," she murmured. "Every spark of belief, every drop of fear, every seed of hope—it's making itself smarter. Stronger. Alive in ways we can't measure."
Fenric's silver fire arced over the battlefield, a ribbon of calm slicing through chaos. "It doesn't imitate life—it judges it, molds it, tests it. Every choice leaves a scar, every act of devotion a reward—or a lesson. And the lattice… it is patient. Immortal. Merciless, if necessary."
