Location: Hunt Association Guild Hall → Ascension Gate – Halcyros Inner City
Time: [Cycle 9 : 06:10 – 09:00 Local Drift]
Ren stood at the guild's edge, holding the bounty scroll in one hand, cloak hood pulled low, glyphs lightly pulsing beneath his skin.
Target: Lira.
Objective: Intel.
Access point: The fucking palace.
Of course, that meant one question had to be asked:
"How do I get back into the place that tried to soul-erase me?"
And the only person with an answer?
Was currently sitting on her desk in the guild's command room, legs crossed, wearing a black silk robe she absolutely wasn't issued, sipping driftwine like it was victory.
"Back to the palace?" Trossa asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ren nodded. "I need information. On her."
He handed her the contract scroll.
She scanned it once.
Her face shifted — playful, then sharp, then amused.
"You really are in deep. You want to go sniffing through the same halls where they caged you like a summoned pet."
Ren crossed his arms. "I won't get caught this time."
Trossa slid off her desk, heels clicking, robe parting just a bit too much. She walked slow, like a predator in heat.
She stopped right in front of him.
"You know the price for disobedient dogs, don't you, summoner?"
Ren swallowed. "I'm not a dog."
She leaned in, lips brushing his ear.
"No. You're a bad boy with magic in his veins and zero survival instincts."
She traced a slow line along his glyph-burned collarbone.
"But I like that. So here's the deal—"
She backed away with a grin.
"You want to go upworld? Use the Ascension Gate at Sector 7-K. There's a pulse-elevator locked to noble IDs, but the guild's got a cracked access token hidden in the gate lockbox. My token."
She threw a bone-shaped pendant at him.
"Don't lose it. If you do, I'll brand your thigh with my name so the next assassin knows who used to own you."
Ren caught it. "That's... horrifyingly affectionate."
"You're welcome."
Location: Ascension Gate – Sector 7-K
Late night.
The elevator rumbled upward with a slow, eerie hum, drifting through a vertical shaft carved into the wall of Halcyros itself.
Golden lights glowed on every surface. Runic security passed through his cloak and bones like a scanner made of ghosts.
ID Accepted: Auxiliary Courier Unit – Class 3 Authorization
He smirked.
Trossa's access worked.
Location: The Upperworld – Vanyress High District
He stepped out into a world of quiet decadence.
Soft glowing stone paths. Floating banners made of stitched light. Quiet carriages shaped like beasts of legend. Guards with gold-woven spears that hummed like a hymn.
This was the land of legacy, where everything lied in poetry and power.
And Ren?
He walked through it like a shadow pretending to belong.
Location: Palace Edge – Midnight
Ren scaled a side wall using Arix's Veinwalk technique, leaping between silent ridges, hugging the carved columns like a polite burglar.
His glyphs were sealed, only one pulse active — Rattlejaw Knight's aura, masking his resonance signature to blend with palace aura fields.
"If this fails," he muttered, "I get caged again. Or executed. Or caged then executed then summoned by my own corpse."
He slipped through a side vent.
Dropped into a garden hallway.
Same palace.
Same smell of scented authority.
He crouched. Listened.
Voices echoed from down the marble stair.
"...Commander Auralith hasn't reported in three cycles."
"She's gone off script."
"And what of the anomaly?"
"The interloper? We still don't know where he went. But if she's helping him—"
"Then we kill her too."
Ren's heart stopped.
They're hunting Lira too.
He moved like smoke, sliding deeper into the palace, heart pounding, mind racing.
He was inside.
Again.
This time, not to escape.
But to discover.
Ren moved deeper into the palace halls.
Each step, another layer of velvet silence.
Each corridor, another wall of secrets dressed like marble.
But the truth?
It bled between cracks. And he was damn good at bleeding it out.
Location: Palace Record Chamber – "The Silver Ledger Room"
He slipped inside through a maintenance vent.
A room full of crystal consoles, ancient scrolls, and whisper-screens — protected only by passive wards, which Ren bypassed with a glyph-disruption hum (thanks to Trossa's illegal upgrades).
He triggered an echo recorder.
And the room began to speak.
"...Commander Auralith refused to relinquish her personal chrono-sigil."
"We warned her."
"You don't warn her. You obey her."
"She's not just a Guardian. She's the last Temporal Warden-Class Resonant in active rank."
"She froze the Oth'Rel incursion in four seconds."
"She reversed the Bone Garden siege by collapsing a time loop for twenty-eight hours."
"You think she betrayed us?"
"No. I think we betrayed her. And now she's choosing her own war."
Ren's throat went dry.
Temporal Warden-Class.
Time control, world-thread manipulation, multi-reality anchoring.
The rarest, most dangerous, most untouchable class in Guardian history.
And he'd saved her.
Kissed her cheek.
Carried her limp body through a crumbling temple.
And now she was leading a secret war.
Ren backed into the shadowed corner. Closed his eyes.
He missed their voices — Core's smirking warnings, Frost's icy calm, Blaze's teasing rage, Vey'stryx's cold judgement.
Where the fuck are you guys...
Nothing.
No response.
Only the glyph-pulse on his chest, quietly reminding him he was still alive.
Alone.
But he wasn't done.
He had one more thread to pull.
Location: Teleportation Nexus – Forbidden Access Wing
This room didn't exist on the maps.
But it existed in whispers.
Hidden behind a rotating mirror-plate and a blood-key rune — which Ren unlocked using the Mire Whisperer's essence. The sludge left behind just enough resonance to fool the door.
Inside?
Coordinates.
Carved into the floor.
Etched into old machines.
Scattered like holy texts.
He read them one by one.
Teleportation Coordinates — Class Black Sites (Restricted):
Synn Thalorith – The Singing Dunes
→ Vein Thread: Buried under the 12th dune starfall.
→ Warning: Pulse-locked. Echo storms active.Crimson Petal Dominion – The Bone Gardens
→ Vein Thread: Rooted beneath the Temple of Red Silence.
→ Status: Time-warp proximity. Chrono-lock necessary.Oth'Rel Exarchy – The Clocktower of Silence
→ Vein Thread: Hidden beneath layered harmonic pulses.
→ Keyphrase Required: "When time watches, blink second."Vanyress – Deep Spire Archive Ruins
→ Vein Thread: Beneath sealed knowledge vaults.
→ Access Denied to all except: Auralith-class WardenOuter Drift Rupture – [No Coordinates Listed]
→ Notes: "Anchored beyond known threads. Sealed by Null Code. Observer-class only."
Ren's breath caught.
"Lira knew these... all along."
He took photos with his token scroll.
Tucked it all away.
And stepped out of the chamber, heart pounding, mind broken in ten directions.
She hadn't just betrayed him.
She'd outgrown him.
Or maybe… she'd never planned to leave him alive.
Ren had seen enough.
The archives had shown her time-bent victories.
The teleportation data hinted at long-term planning.
But it wasn't until he found the Red Manuscript—sealed under Lira's own clearance code—that the truth finally burned itself in:
Lira Auralith's true intention?
Not to end the war.
Not to protect this world.
To win.
At any cost.
Even if it meant slaughtering the very kingdoms she once served.
She'd already started moving pieces.
Sabotaging alliances.
Wiping key command outposts.
The Bone Gardens? She'd ordered the mass-erasure of their timeline regulators.
The Singing Dunes? Already ruptured — time fractures growing.
"Kill the thrones.
Shatter the Driftlock.
Rebuild this world in her vision."
Ren left the palace with a blank face.
Eyes dull.
Not angry.
Just… like he always knew.
He returned to the Guild.
Trossa was there. Waiting in the lounge. Legs up, cloak half-open like she lived for this kind of tension.
"Back already?" she asked.
He didn't speak.
Just pulled the scroll out of his cloak.
MISSION – Espionage / Intel Acquisition
Target: Solmerea – Vanyress Dominion
Objective: Gather internal status reports, troop movements, and Guardian activity.
Focus on: Commander Lira Auralith
Drop Location:Ashneedle Balcony, Driftline 13
Time Limit: 5 Drift Cycles
Pay: [CLASSIFIED]
Authority: [REDACTED]
Confidentiality Rating:Black Vein – No witnesses
Trossa narrowed her eyes.
"You found it all, didn't you?"
Ren gave a nod.
Trossa walked past him, stopped.
Gripped his shoulder.
Then, without even turning—
"Be careful what you give them. The kind of truth you're carrying? It doesn't end wars. It starts better ones."
Location: Ashneedle Balcony – Driftline 13
Time: [Cycle 9 : 11:00 – 12:30 Local Drift]
Access Clearance: One-Time, No Witnesses
Ren climbed the broken steps of the balcony — an ancient Driftpoint above the ruins, held together by humming field anchors.
Someone stood at the edge.
Long robe. Hooded. Hands clasped behind his back.
But when Ren called out, the man turned—
And Ren stopped breathing.
He looked just like Aito.
His best friend.
His real-world brother-in-chaos.
Same smirk. Same lazy confidence.
But the eyes?
Void. Resonant. Cold.
"Not Aito," the man said, reading his expression. "But I understand the reaction."
Ren shocked, "How you know my friend Aito?"
He stepped closer, and his identity shifted in Ren's HUD overlay:
Name: Kairo Voss
Classification: Null-Class Observer
Faction: [REDACTED]
Authority Rank: 7.2 – Independent Shadow Broker
Threat Level: Unranked (Off-Chart)
Kairo smiled.
"I don't need your pain. Just your report."
"HOW…..!!!!", Ren were amazed at first but kaito looks somehow trustworthy so ren passed him a data crystal encoded with everything: troop movements, coordinates, even the Vein fracture signatures.
Kairo slid it into a dark slot on his vambrace.
"Good. Now…"
He tapped a device.
"Payment received. Your account now holds 1,000,000 Drift Shards."
"And these—"
He dropped three summoning crystals into Ren's palm.
Each shimmered with sealed entities.
"High-Class summons. One draconic. One phantasmal. One... I wouldn't recommend unless you're drunk or suicidal."
Kairo turned to leave.
"If you want out of Solmerea... I can take you beyond the Verge. We're leaving within two cycles. You've earned a seat."
"Or don't. But the clock's ticking. This war? It's already begun. And you're tied to it now—by blood, contract, and fate."
Location: Return to the Guild
Ren sprinted back through the undercity, cloak whipping, eyes burning with data, memories, and grief.
He crashed through the Guild doors.
Trossa looked up — unimpressed — until he dropped the summoning crystals on the desk.
And showed her his account balance.
Her eyes widened. "...You whore."
Ren: "Professionally."
She stood.
Stalked toward him.
And this time?
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Whispered:
"Take me with you."
He blinked. "What?"
Trossa smirked. "I'm bored here. You're fun. And you'll need someone to keep the monsters off you... or on you, depending on the day."
She kissed his cheek.
"We leave together, or not at all."
Ren smiled.
The war was coming.
But now?
He wasn't going alone.