Location: Synn Thalorith – Dune Rift Passage, Sector 9
Time: [Cycle 10 : 14:10 – 15:20 Local Drift]
Ren was moving fast now, desert cloak up, Vey'stryx humming at his side, fire and frost flickering at his heels. He had a plan:
Get captured.
Get inside Lira's command tier.
End her.
Simple.
Dangerous.
Perfect.
But fate had a different entrance in mind.
CRACK–THOOM!
A blast hit the sand ten meters in front of him.
He skidded to a stop as shimmering bodies de-cloaked all around him — Guardian soldiers, but their insignias were not Solmerea.
Some bore the spiral sigil of the Oth'Rel Exarchy.
Others, the red claw of the Crimson Petal Dominion.
And worst of all?
They weren't here to talk.
A woman stepped forward, black armor etched in bone-silver glyphs.
"You are Kaelreth.
Dimensional interloper.
Bearer of the sealed summons.
You are to be detained and dissected for artifact study."
Ren sighed.
"First I'm Ren not Kaelreth and you guys ever just send a politely worded letter?"
The soldiers raised weapons.
"Engage suppression. Prepare for total soul-lock."
Then Ren smiled.
Glowed.
His glyphs erupted in silver and ember — the cosmic fragments in his body now active.
"Alright then... but you asked for this."
The ground shattered beneath his feet as Blaze leapt forward, clad in red inferno, punching through the first energy lance with a laugh.
Blaze: "I've been waiting to roast something for cycles, baby!"
One soldier threw a gravity-net — Frost materialized and froze it mid-air, spinning into a silent slide, crashing through two more with crystal spears from her sleeves.
Frost: "Your formations are flawed. Your angles are lazy. And your deaths? Necessary."
Another tried to pulse-lock Ren's limbs—
But Vey'stryx flashed from his hip, full-size, severing the pulse stream mid-air with a buzzing scream of metal.
"LET ME TASTE THEIR BLOOD."
Ren: "You'll get your fill."
A Guardian tried to outflank him—
Ren summoned Velkrin, who blinked into the soldier's shadow, stabbed upward, and vanished like smoke.
Another—
Graith'Vor pounced, ripping through armor like parchment.
Within seconds?
Four dead.
Six unconscious.
Two screaming in psychic terror from the Mire Whisperer's echo field.
The survivors backed off, weapons shaking.
The lead woman stared at him.
"…You're not just a summoner."
Ren stepped forward, glowing with quiet fury.
"I'm the mistake they locked away.
And I just woke up."
He let the flames die. Slowly.
She knelt.
The others followed.
"We yield. Your contract surpasses ours.
You are… aligned with something we weren't briefed for."
Ren paused.
Then smiled.
"Good. Then spread the word. Ren Ishida is back."
But then—
He let them bind him.
Hands up. Sword deactivated. Cloak over his glyphs.
"Take me in. Deliver me to Lira Auralith.
Tell her… the Riftborn has returned."
The soldiers exchanged nervous glances.
He bowed his head.
But behind his still face?
His mind burned.
She doesn't know I awakened my glyphs.
She doesn't know Core's back.
She doesn't know… I can still tear her world in half.
Location: Crimson Petal Citadel, Subsector Zhar'el
Time: [Cycle 10 : 18:45 Local Drift]
The sand was gone.
Replaced by gold marble floors and banners sewn from magic-weft silk — each humming with Guardian-encoded wards. Columns stretched like spears toward the ceiling, laced with silver-light glyphs.
And at the center…
Her.
Lira Auralith.
No longer cursed. No longer cloaked.
Crowned in royal Guardian filaments.
Armored in Chrono-Warden threads that shimmered with locked time.
She stood before her throne like she owned universe herself.
Ren was escorted in by four armored soldiers.
Collared.
Unarmed.
Calm.
Lira stepped down slowly.
Didn't ask questions.
Didn't waste breath.
Just said:
"Kaelreth. I was wondering when you'd come crawling back."
He kept his head bowed, voice even.
"Didn't know I was expected."
Lira circled him slowly.
"Oh, please. You think I wouldn't feel the shift the moment you awakened those fractured ghosts inside you?"
"Blaze. Frost. Core. That cursed blade. They scream when they wake up. You've never been quiet."
She paused.
"And now here you are… Summoned. Cracked. And caged."
Ren smirked.
"You're mistaken about something."
Lira raised a brow. "Enlighten me."
He looked up — eyes glowing faintly, faint glyph light pulsing beneath the collar.
And whispered:
"The Kaelreth you're waiting for…
The one you're afraid of…
The one who broke the Ninth Lock and crushed the Blade Constellation in a single Drift cycle…?"
"That's not me."
He stepped forward.
"I'm the version that doesn't even know what I'm truly capable of yet."
Silence fell.
Even the guards tensed.
Lira's smirk dropped… just slightly.
"So what are you then?" she said. "A clone? A split? A false self?"
Ren shrugged.
"I'm the not the first Kaelreth, Who doesn't even tried yet. I'm the last who try to survive.
The one who doesn't want to burn everything yet.
But you?"
He stepped even closer.
"You're giving me every reason to change my mind."
Lira tilted her head.
A thousand thoughts behind those chrono-sharp eyes.
"I could kill you right now."
"You could try."
He smiled.
"But you'd have to explain why the Riftborn detonated in your throne room."
She laughed.
Genuinely.
"Oh, Ren... Kael... whoever you are…"
She stepped back and snapped her fingers.
The guards left.
The room sealed.
"If you're here to kill me…"
She spread her arms.
"Do it."
Ren didn't move.
Because she hadn't drawn her weapon.
Not yet.
Because she was testing him.
"You're not ready," she said. "You're still half-asleep.
Still bound to fear, and ghosts, and little fragments of who you were.
But you will become him."
She sat on the throne like it was a war altar.
"So go ahead.
Take your shot."
He reached for the blade—
But didn't draw.
Not yet.
Because something in him whispered:
This isn't the fight yet.
This is the stage.
And in the corners of the chamber?
Shadows moved.
Watching.
Not soldiers.
Not guardians.
Observers.
She brought an audience.
She wants the world to see the fall… or the failure.
Ren smiled.
Then dropped to one knee.
"Then I'll wait."
"But when I do rise?"
He looked her dead in the eye.
"You'll fall before the real Kaelreth ever wakes up."
Location: Crimson Petal Citadel – Lower Sanctum, "Mirror Hold"
Time: [Cycle 10 : 20:00 – 22:15 Local Drift]
Ren sat in silence.
The room was perfectly symmetrical.
Walls of black glass, hexagonal lights glowing from within. No shadows. No reflections. Just… emptiness.
It wasn't a prison.
It was a display case.
"They're watching," Core whispered softly in his mind.
"This entire floor is veiled in illusion-threads and specter-recorders."
Ren didn't respond aloud.
He just focused.
Closed his eyes.
Let the energy hum through his glyphs.
Let Core speak.
"The 9th planet…" she began slowly, her voice no longer broken but still… hesitant.
"Everyone's wrong about it. Even Lira."
A pause.
"Yxtrielle isn't a planet.
It's a containment layer.
A planet-sized dimensional anchor built around what they once called the First Seed."
"It was never meant to be found.
It's not a destination.
It's a seal."
Ren's eyes flickered open.
"Then what the fuck were the coordinates?"
"Fabrications. Misdirections.
Lira's search? It's not leading her to Yxtrielle.
She's trying to break into Yxtrielle…
From here."
"You're sitting above one of the three Hidden Locks connected to the Yxtrielle Core.
They're not keys.
They're roots.
The only things strong enough to hold the 9th Seal in place."
Silence.
Cold. Crushing.
Then:
"She's going to collapse the lock from the inside, Kaelreth.
And if she does?
The Core inside Yxtrielle won't be dormant anymore.
It'll wake.
And no planet in the Verge Ring survives that."
Ren swallowed.
"How do we stop her?"
Core hesitated.
"You don't.
Not alone.
Not yet."
"You need the Blade to open the vault beneath this citadel.
Vey'stryx has tasted this kind of lock before.
She knows how to cut through dimensional roots."
Ren leaned back on the mirror-glass bench.
Watched the walls.
Waited for the next shift.
The next movement.
"And if I open the vault…?"
"Then you'll see what she's really hiding."
Location: Crimson Petal Citadel – Mirror Hold (Underground Sanctum)
Time: [Cycle 10 : 23:15 Local Drift]
They'd taken everything.
His cloak.
His satchel.
Even his glyph-sheathed shard coins.
He was alone in a room built to suppress resonance, illusion-wrapped, Guarded by Veinlock-enchanted walls.
And yet…
They couldn't sever the link.
Ren sat in stillness, letting his mind trace the buried glyph along his spine — the mark Core had called The Inner Bind, the bridge between his soul and Vey'stryx.
"They think I'm alone," he whispered.
He tapped his chest. Just once.
"Let's show them what a blade without a scabbard looks like."
The air rippled.
No glyph flash.
No summon circle.
Just a thin, high-pitched buzz—like steel being sharpened in the void.
Then the room darkened.
And Vey'stryx appeared.
Not walking.
Not hovering.
Just there—beside him.
Full-length. Black-forged. Curved in defiance.
Whispers echoed through the mirrored walls.
"The Blade of the End sings again…"
"The lock trembles…"
Ren reached out and placed a hand on the hilt.
"Time to open you up."
Vey'stryx pulsed once.
And the floor at his feet shifted — a panel sliding aside to reveal a spiral of glyphs. The Hidden Lock beneath the Citadel.
He knelt down. Studied the etchings.
"This… is one of the roots Core talked about."
Vey'stryx buzzed.
"I've seen this pattern before.
It was carved from the corpse of a Time-Drake.
Sever it wrong, and it explodes."
Ren smiled.
"So… we don't miss."
But before he could make the first incision, the room pulsed.
And the door… unlocked.
Ren stood fast—Vey'stryx vanishing back into his glyph as a failsafe.
A figure stepped inside.
Tall. Broad. Armored in cracked plates and monster hide.
No mark of Solmerea.
No sigil of Lira.
But a jagged, glowing brand burned into his chest.
The Beastmark.
The mark of the 8th Planet — Threxil.
The man tossed a mask aside.
Dark eyes. Battle-worn jaw.
He looked like someone who ate dragons for breakfast and didn't bother to clean the blood.
"Kaelreth," he said. "You don't know me."
"But I've killed five versions of you."
Ren didn't flinch. "I'm flattered?"
The man chuckled.
"You're the first to survive this far. That means something."
He stepped closer.
"I'm called Ravrin. Threxil-born.
I've seen what's coming.
I've heard what Lira's planning."
"You want help cracking this lock?"
He pointed at the sealed glyph spiral beneath Ren's feet.
"I've got info. Tools. And a reason to betray the bitch queen upstairs."
Ren raised an eyebrow.
"Why help me?"
Ravrin smirked.
"Because she thinks power is something you wear.
We Threxilians?
We were born in it."
Location: Crimson Petal Citadel – Mirror Hold (Sub-Level Chamber Alpha)
Time: [Cycle 10 : 22:22 – 00:01 Local Drift]
The silence between Ren and Ravrin stretched.
Ren crossed his arms.
"You're giving me too much for free."
Ravrin smiled.
"You're not stupid. Good."
Ren stepped closer. "So give me the real reason you're helping."
Ravrin's smirk faded.
He reached up and unclasped his armored collar, revealing the twisted burn marks around his throat. Faint glyphs shimmered beneath — seared in the shape of planetary chains.
"I was there when she came to Threxil," Ravrin said. "She didn't fight our leaders.
She didn't challenge our strongest."
"She looked them in the eyes.
Spoke a spell none of us recognized.
And they knelt."
Ren stiffened.
"She used a binding incantation?"
Ravrin shook his head.
"Worse. She made them see time the way she sees it.
Not as movement. But as leverage."
"Lira doesn't conquer with war.
She conquers with inevitability."
He stepped toward the hidden lock on the floor and tapped his boot once on the glyph spiral.
"If she cracks the final lock?
If she severs the core-root from Yxtrielle?"
He met Ren's gaze, dead serious now.
"She'll erase the planet.
Not because she needs to.
Because she can."
Ren's voice dropped. "But why?"
Ravrin:
"She sees Yxtrielle as a scar.
An old failed experiment.
She wants to break the ring, erase the Lock, and rebuild the Verge around herself."
"And you, Kaelreth?"
"You're the only one who ever scared her. Even the version of you that broke wasn't enough."
"But this version?
The half-awakened, unrefined, still-developing wild card version?"
He chuckled.
"You're chaos.
You're the only thing she can't pre-calculate."
Ren exhaled sharply.
He was quiet a moment.
Then asked: "The three locks?"
Ravrin knelt, drawing quick shapes in the sand-dust on the floor.
Three symbols glowed faintly:
The Mind Lock – hidden beneath her private chamber, sealed under psionic resonance and guarded by Lira's most loyal psychic sentinel, Commander Vehlis.The Heart Lock – sealed into her personal drift-crystal vault, accessible only by direct emotional resonance, and guarded by Lira's former consort, a Guardian Warden named Seren Avallix.The Root Lock – hidden in the bedpost of her central throne chamber, disguised as part of the architecture. It can only be broken by a weapon of known betrayal — aka, Vey'stryx.
Ravrin continued:
"She sleeps above them. Literally.
Wrapped in power, guarded by truth-broken lovers and oath-sworn shadows."
"And she's already started activating the Lock-Threads connected to Yxtrielle."
"Once they're all synced?
She'll collapse the dimensional compression and turn the planet into a sinkhole of erased timelines."
Ren clenched his fists.
The fragments inside him stirred.
Core buzzed low in the back of his mind.
"You can't let her do this, Kaelreth.
If she succeeds, the ripple will reach the other 19 planets.
Even the Ember Womb won't be safe."
Then suddenly—
All light dimmed.
The floor glyphs flickered.
And from the shadow-corner of the room…
A presence leaned in.
"Shit," Ravrin muttered. "She's watching. One of her Eyes."
A soft pulse echoed — like someone breathing too close to the veil between worlds.
Ren felt it in his bones.
A voice.
Soft.
Feminine.
Like glass and betrayal.
"I see you, Kaelreth…"
"I always do."
Ren snapped to his feet, drawing Vey'stryx mid-spin.
The room returned to normal.
Nothing there.
Just cold.
Just silence.
But the message?
Delivered.
She knew.