The laboratory of the Nautilus became the heart of a symphony. Ren stood with his palm pressed against the Aetheric amplifier, his eyes closed, his entire being focused on a single task. He reached into his core and drew upon the pure, stable river of his Apprentice-level power. He did not shape it into a weapon or a shield. He gave it a voice.
He began to broadcast his soul's song—the unique, primordial frequency of the Raijin—into the amplifier. The massive sphere resonated with his power, taking his quiet, internal hum and magnifying it a thousandfold, projecting it as a powerful, silent beam of pure resonance down into the crushing, absolute darkness of the Ouros Trench.
On the bridge, Anya watched her console in stunned fascination. The ship's Aetheric output was off the charts, but the energy was not chaotic or destructive. It was a single, perfect, incredibly complex waveform. It was the most intricate and stable Aetheric signal she had ever recorded.
"He's doing it," she whispered. "He's projecting his own spiritual signature as a key…"
For a full minute, nothing happened. The deep-sea drones showed only the same barren, volcanic rock of the caldera floor.
"More, boy!" Zephyrion's voice urged him on. "The vault has slept for three thousand years! A gentle knock will not wake it! You must make the very stones remember their master!"
Ren pushed more power into the amplifier, the azure light of his Aether flaring visibly around him. The hum of the machine intensified, and the very hull of the Nautilus began to vibrate in sympathy.
And then, the abyss answered.
The drone cameras showed the seafloor beginning to shimmer. The solid rock seemed to lose its form, its edges blurring as if it were a mirage. The water itself began to glow, charged with Ren's resonant energy. The ancient perception filter, deprived of its master's presence for millennia, was now faced with the undeniable song of its creator, and it began to fail.
Slowly, majestically, a structure began to materialize from the bedrock. It was a massive obsidian ziggurat, its architecture clean, powerful, and utterly alien. Runes of power, identical to those on the Storm-Worn Bracer, glowed with a faint, returning light across its surface. The Sunken Vault of Ouros was revealing itself to the world for the first time since the Great Cataclysm.
At its base, a colossal, sealed gate, forged from the same storm-grey metal as Ren's armor, became visible.
"It's real," Anya breathed, her scientific mind reeling at the sight of a structure that had been a mere myth.
As Ren continued to pour his energy into the broadcast, a final, deep, resonant CHIME echoed from the vault, a sound that they felt in their bones. The runes on the colossal gate flared with a brilliant blue light, and with a sound like grinding continents, the ancient door began to slide open, revealing a dark, silent interior.
The perception filter was down. The way was open.
Ren cut the connection to the amplifier, stumbling back, his breathing heavy. The effort had drained a significant portion of his reserves.
"We did it," Anya said, a note of triumph in her voice.
But Zephyrion's voice in Ren's mind was not triumphant. It was grim.
"The song that opens the door also wakes the watchmen," the spirit warned. "Be ready."
As if on cue, two new sources of light appeared from the darkness within the newly opened vault. They were two massive, humanoid figures, easily ten feet tall. They were not living creatures. They were automata, forged from the same storm-grey metal as the gate, their featureless heads each holding a single, glowing, azure eye. In their hands, they held colossal warhammers that crackled with contained lightning.
They were Storm Sentinels, the vault's ancient, dormant guardians. They had slumbered for three thousand years, waiting for the song of their master.
They stepped out of the vault and onto the seabed, their azure eyes fixing on the Nautilus hovering above. Their mission was simple. Their programming absolute.
Protect the vault. Annihilate all intruders.