The wind cut hard across the frozen bridge, carrying away the last trace of Merodach's voice.
Kael stood still, watching the place where the envoy had vanished, his grip on the Ruyi Jingu Bang unyielding.
Sena moved first, scanning the bridge and the bodies sprawled across it. Most were already dissolving into the faint green shimmer of broken artificial relics, but several weapons remained—twisted scimitars, curved daggers, and shield fragments etched with falcon-wing patterns.
Kael crouched to examine one. The metal was strange—bronze laced with a green crystal seam. "Not Yggdrasil's work."
Sena's eyes narrowed. "No. These designs… they're Egyptian." She picked up a broken blade, running her thumb over the carving of a sun disk flanked by cobras. "This is the mark of the Ennead."
"Friends of yours?" Kael asked.
"Family," she said, her tone sharpening. "If someone is using Egyptian relic patterns for artificial copies, it means one of two things—someone's selling our craft, or someone's stealing it." She straightened, her gaze fixed south. "Either way, we're going to Egypt."
Luxor – Ennead's Sanctum
The heat hit Kael like a wall the moment they stepped from the airship. Luxor spread before them, its stone streets lined with market stalls and relic shrines, the air alive with the scent of spice and dust. Above it all, the great obelisk of the Ennead's Sanctum speared the sky, its tip catching the blazing sun.
Sena led the way through heavy brass gates guarded by men and women in linen robes marked with the Eye of Ra. Inside, the Sanctum's courtyard glowed with reflected light, the air thick with the scent of oil and sand-baked stone.
A man awaited them at the far end—tall, broad-shouldered, his skin bronzed by years under the sun. His robes were deep crimson, and in his hand he held a perfect golden sphere that pulsed faintly, as if it held the heart of the sun itself.
"Amon," Sena said, her voice softening for the first time since they'd left the north. "Father."
Amon's gaze swept from Sena to Kael, measuring him in a heartbeat. "Daughter," he said. "You bring strangers to the Sanctum, and trouble in your shadow."
Kael inclined his head. "We found weapons—artificial relics—using Egyptian designs. If Ottalaus is behind it—"
Amon's fingers curled around the orb, and the air around him seemed to shimmer with heat. "The Eye of Ra does not take kindly to theft," he said. "If Yggdrasil's Order has dared to touch our craft, then the desert will burn."
Sena exchanged a glance with Kael. "Then we'd better start digging before they bury the trail."
The Sanctum's halls were lined with relic history—statues of falcon-headed gods, tablets etched with flame patterns, glass cases holding blades that glowed faintly in the torchlight.
Amon led Kael and Sena deeper, the golden sphere in his hand pulsing brighter with each step, as if sensing unrest.
They entered the Hall of Echoes, where the oldest designs were kept—scrolls sealed in crystal tubes, relic schematics dating back before the Shatterfall.
That's when Kael felt it—the faint hum of relic energy, wrong in pitch, sharp like fractured glass.
"They're here," Amon said flatly.
Shadows spilled from the archways, resolving into armed figures clad in light desert armor. Their weapons glowed faint green—artificial relics, each one carrying the faint echo of a stolen myth.
At their center was a tall man with a jackal mask, carrying twin curved swords humming with unstable heat.
"Take the scrolls," the jackal-voiced leader barked. "Burn the rest."
Kael's staff snapped to full length in his grip. Sena's chakram spun up, golden arcs glinting under the torchlight.
Amon simply raised the Eye of Ra.
The air ignited.
A spear of sunlight burst from the orb, searing across the hall and forcing the jackal-masked leader to dive aside. The heat was so intense Kael felt it sting against his cheek even from meters away.
The fight erupted.
Kael moved through the nearest wave, his clones fanning out like ripples in a pond—each staff strike timed to force opponents into Sena's path. She flowed between them, her chakram shifting weight mid-flight—one smashing a shield to splinters, the other curving light as air to slip past a guard's throat.
But Kael's strikes weren't hitting as hard as they should. Twice, the staff's illusory half flickered under impact, and both times an enemy staggered but did not fall. The incomplete truth of the Ruyi Jingu Bang was starting to cost him.
At the far end of the hall, Amon became a storm of flame. The Eye of Ra glowed white-hot, arcs of sunlight whipping into the shape of wings before crashing into the enemy ranks. Armor warped, weapons hissed into molten ruin.
The jackal-masked leader tried to rush him, but the heat struck first—his swords buckling in his hands before he even reached striking distance.
In less than a minute, the last attacker collapsed in the sand and smoke. The scrolls remained untouched.
Amon lowered the Eye, the sphere dimming back to a soft gold. "These were not common thieves," he said. "Their relics… they were wrong. Hollow. Hungry."
Kael exhaled, resting his staff against the floor. "Ottalaus sent them."
Sena's jaw tightened. "Then whatever he's after, Egypt is just the start."
Amon's gaze turned toward the high windows where the desert sun was beginning to set. "If that's true, you will not find your answers here," he said. "But I know where your next step lies."