The battlefield held its breath.
The colossus stood frozen, threads quivering in mid-air, as though suspended between destruction and submission. Its cracked mask tilted slightly toward Clara, crimson light spilling from its fissures and washing her trembling face in fire.
She couldn't breathe. Every fiber of her being screamed to deny it, to refuse the connection. But the weight of its gaze was undeniable. Its threads were inside her veins. Its whispers pulsed in her skull.
Command.
Her lips parted, though she hadn't decided on words. The fire around her fingers hissed and twisted, braiding itself into cords without her will. The battlefield was waiting—not just the colossus, but Damien, Evelyn, even Yurin.
Damien's voice cracked through the silence. "Clara, don't! That thing isn't yours—it's using you!"
Evelyn laughed, pure delight dripping from every syllable. "Oh, but look at her. A queen with her giant puppet. It suits her. Don't rob me of this entertainment, Damien."
Clara's chest tightened. They were both wrong. She wasn't in control—and she wasn't the victim. She was caught in the space between, the terrible in-between where her choices didn't feel like hers anymore.
Then Yurin's voice cut through. Low. Steady. Absolute.
"Try it."
Clara's eyes snapped to him. He stood with threads swirling lazily around him, calm amidst chaos. His gaze wasn't panicked or horrified. It was sharp, calculating, like a surgeon about to make an incision.
"Tell it to kneel," Yurin said softly, his voice carrying even over the rumble of the fissure.
Clara shook her head violently. "No—I can't—if I do, then—"
"You already have." His words sliced through her denial. "When you told the others to fight, you proved the bond works. This is no different. Unless you'd prefer it crush Damien next time?"
Her heart plummeted. She looked at Damien, who burned with desperate defiance, shaking his head at her. "Don't you dare listen to him! Clara, please—"
But the colossus shifted again, one massive hand twitching. The threads strained forward like chains yearning to snap. Every instinct in her body screamed that if she didn't act, it would strike.
The words slipped from her lips like a betrayal.
"Kneel."
The colossus obeyed.
The sound was apocalyptic—the crash of stone as its titanic frame slammed into the earth, knees cracking the battlefield, fissures spiderwebbing outward. Dust and fire billowed. The whispers in her skull grew louder, euphoric.
Clara collapsed, gasping for breath as though she had spoken a word of creation itself. Power surged through her veins, raw and intoxicating. She felt every thread in the monster's body. She could pull them. Twist them. Make them tear the world apart if she wanted.
Her stomach turned.
Damien's voice was hoarse, furious. "Clara! What did you do?!"
"I… I didn't mean to—" Her voice broke. "It listened."
Evelyn was clapping, laughing uncontrollably. "Oh, this is divine! She commands a god, and all she does is make it kneel. Darling, you're wasting it! Tell it to kill us. Tell it to destroy the world! Tell it—"
"Evelyn," Yurin interrupted, his tone like a blade. She fell silent, still grinning, watching him.
Clara looked at Yurin with wide, trembling eyes. "Why… why would you make me do that?"
His expression didn't change. "Because now we know."
"Know what?" Damien demanded, fury in every word.
Yurin's gaze lingered on Clara. "That the fissure recognizes her. That the colossus is not just a weapon—it's hers. And that she can do what none of us can: make the truth bow."
Clara felt sick. The words crawled under her skin like poison. She wanted to deny it, to scream, to throw the power away. But the heat in her blood betrayed her—the hunger was there, undeniable.
The colossus remained kneeling, silent, waiting. Its cracked mask dripped crimson light like tears, threads writhing faintly as though begging her for the next command.
Yurin stepped closer, threads flickering faintly at his fingertips. His voice dropped lower, so only Clara could truly hear.
"The first command is always the hardest. The second will be easier."
Her breath caught. "You… you want me to—"
He tilted his head slightly, calm and merciless. "Control it, or it will control you. Decide which of you is the master."
The fissure pulsed again, the ground trembling, the chant of Architect roaring louder in her skull.
Clara shut her eyes, clutching her head, caught between terror and ecstasy. Her body craved to speak another command.
And Yurin… watched, patiently, as though he were testing the strength of a blade he had forged himself.