The colossal Veilborn leaned down, porcelain mask cracked like glass, whispering with a thousand stolen voices.
"…Architect…"
The reflection of Yurin Crimson's own face smiled from within the fracture, older, sharper, crueler.
Damien Holt swore under his breath. "What the hell is that thing saying?!"
Clara Winslow clutched her ink-stained paper, her voice shaking. "It— it's not just speaking. It's remembering something."
Evelyn Blackthorn's chains lashed out, wrapping around the creature's arm before it could slam the square again. The shadows strained, creaking like iron. "Less talk, more killing, people!"
The monster's arm crashed down anyway, chains snapping like thread. Evelyn barely leapt aside, landing with a hiss.
"Okay, correction—less killing, more surviving."
Damien roared, flames blazing over his fists, punching upward at the descending hand. The impact lit the square in a blinding flash, fire and bone splinter colliding. The shockwave flattened stalls and shattered windows, but the hand only staggered slightly.
The Veilborn leaned lower, whispering louder.
"…Architect… you promised…"
Yurin's calm smile didn't falter. He stared into the mask's cracks, his voice steady.
"I don't recall promising anything."
Damien spun toward him, fury in his eyes. "You're talking to it?! We need to destroy it!"
"Destroy?" Yurin tilted his head, as if amused. "Funny. That's what it thinks we're doing to it."
The monster shrieked. Dozens of porcelain fragments burst from its body, each fragment turning into smaller Veilborn midair, raining down onto the square.
Clara gasped. "It's multiplying!"
Her trembling hand slashed another page. The script flared bright: "Gravity."
The swarm of Veilborn slammed into the ground, crushed flat by unseen weight. Clara's knees buckled as blood dripped from her nose. "That… should hold them—"
The colossal one didn't stop. Its mask fractured further, revealing more of that impossible reflection. The crueler Yurin inside tilted his head, lips curling into a grin, whispering words the others couldn't hear.
But Yurin Crimson heard. And his smile widened just slightly.
Evelyn's chains snapped around Yurin's wrist, dragging him back sharply. Her eyes burned into his.
"Enough of your little smirks, Crimson. You know something. Spill it—now."
Damien's fists flared again, anger fueling his flames. "If you're working with this thing, I swear—"
"I'm not," Yurin cut in smoothly, almost bored. "It's working with me."
The words hit harder than any punch.
Silence fell for half a heartbeat. Then Evelyn's grip on her chains tightened.
"…What did you just say?"
Yurin looked her dead in the eye. His smile was faint, unsettlingly calm.
"Relax. I was joking."
Clara's voice trembled. "…I don't think you were."
Before they could push further, the colossal Veilborn raised both arms, the fissure beneath it glowing like a molten wound in reality. Whispers poured out louder, shaking the air.
"…Architect… return… complete the fracture…"
The air itself began to split apart, buildings bending, stones warping, as though reality was being torn open.
Damien cursed. "If we don't stop it now, this entire district is gone!"
Evelyn snapped her chains forward, latching onto the monster's face. "Then let's stop it!"
Clara scrawled another desperate word: "Blind." The script glowed, and the creature's cracked mask dimmed, its gaze faltering.
Damien charged in, flames blazing. He launched upward, both fists striking into the fissure of its mask. Shards exploded outward—Veilborn shrieking as their voices echoed.
The monster reeled, staggering.
But Yurin didn't move to help. He just whispered softly to himself, his red eyes reflecting the broken mask.
"…Not yet. Too soon."
And then the monster's mask shattered completely—
revealing nothing but Yurin's face inside.
Not older. Not crueler. This time, it was identical.
The whole group froze.
The Veilborn's thousands of voices became one.
"You are me."
The fissure roared open beneath them. The ground gave way.
And Yurin Crimson—
laughed.
---
[Chapter Three — End]