The heavy workshop door closed, leaving Jonah in a silence that was somehow louder than the chaos of a few moments before. The air still buzzed with residual energy, an echo of the power he had unleashed.
He stared at the spot where Thanos and the other Rank Three seniors had stood. Their gazes, a mixture of awe, calculation, and challenge, were burned into his memory.
A new player in the game.
Jonah let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He wasn't just the weird kid with the unidentified class anymore. He was on the radar. He was a piece on the board, whether he liked it or not.
He heard a hum. It was faint, almost too soft to hear. He turned and re-summoned his new creation. The Phantom Weaver appeared before him, its insect-like eyes watching him with a cold intelligence.
He needed a name for it. Not just a label, but a real name. He thought of its abilities – fading from sight, phasing through reality, a ghost in the machine.
