The crimson sky tore open.
The horizon was no longer sky at all, but a mask.
A colossal porcelain face stretched from one end of the world to the other, cracks glowing with molten light. Its eyes were black voids, its mouth unmoving—yet when it spoke, the sound wasn't heard through ears. It reverberated through bone, through thought, through soul.
"ARCHITECT. RETURN."
The entire Truth Layer trembled.
The Guardians fell to their knees, glass-blades driven into the ground in worship. Their whispered chorus bled into silence. All focus turned to Yurin Crimson.
Damien Holt's flames flickered against the overwhelming pressure, his jaw clenched so tight it might snap. "It's… calling you."
Evelyn Blackthorn's chains coiled tighter, black iron groaning under the strain. Her eyes narrowed at Yurin. "And you're not even denying it anymore."
Clara Winslow staggered forward, paper trembling in her hands. Her voice cracked. "Yurin… please. Tell me this isn't what it looks like. Tell me you're not—"
Yurin tilted his head. The faintest curve of his lips remained, calm and sharp.
"What would you like me to say, Clara? The mask… or the truth?"
The colossal face pulsed with crimson light, the cracks spreading across the entire sky like veins. The world itself seemed to lean closer.
"ARCHITECT. THE FRACTURE IS INCOMPLETE."
Damien roared, his flames bursting wildly. "Enough of this cryptic crap! If you're working with that thing, I'll burn you down myself!"
He lunged, fist blazing hotter than ever. The ground split under his charge.
Yurin didn't move. Didn't even blink.
Evelyn's chains lashed around Damien's arm at the last second, yanking him back. She snarled. "Idiot. If he's really connected to that thing, rushing him is the fastest way to get us all killed."
Damien growled, flames flaring against her chains, but he didn't break free. His eyes burned into Yurin. "Then what do you suggest, Evelyn? Just let him keep smirking while the damn sky calls him Daddy?"
Clara's trembling voice broke through. "Stop! Stop fighting each other—if we break here, we're finished!"
But the cracks in their unity were already too deep.
The giant mask in the sky lowered further. Shards of porcelain rained down like meteors, slamming into the ground and forming new Guardians by the dozens.
The voice thundered again.
"PROVE YOU ARE WORTHY, ARCHITECT. STRIP THEM."
The Guardians surged—not at the group. Not at Yurin. But at Evelyn, Damien, and Clara.
Damien roared, hurling fire at the swarm. Evelyn's chains whirled, dragging Guardians into shards. Clara's ink glowed, her script forcing "Stone" walls up around them.
But it was endless. The Guardians weren't trying to kill them. They were trying to drive them toward Yurin.
Evelyn spat, fangs bared in frustration. "It wants him to break us!"
Clara gasped, realization hitting like lightning. "…If he strips us—he'll see our truths."
Damien's fire sputtered for just a moment at the thought. "No way. He wouldn't—"
He turned to Yurin.
Yurin stood calmly, hands at his sides, crimson eyes glowing faintly. His expression was unreadable.
The Guardians pressed closer. The colossal mask loomed lower.
"STRIP THEM. OR BE ERASED."
Evelyn's chains lashed onto Yurin's arm again, pulling him close, her eyes burning into his. "If you even try it—"
Damien's flames blazed. "Do it and you're dead!"
Clara's trembling voice cracked. "Yurin… please… you're not like them… right?"
The Guardians closed in. The colossal face roared.
Yurin lifted his hand slowly.
The crimson light flared across his eyes.
And he whispered—
"Strip."
The world went silent.
Evelyn gasped. Damien froze. Clara's papers scattered into the wind.
But whose truth had Yurin just stripped?
The colossal mask began to laugh.
[Chapter Six — End]