The plaza had quieted, but the silence felt wrong.
Not the silence of peace, not the silence of relief.It was the silence of air holding its breath, of stone waiting to break again.
The Heaven-Splitting Sword Sect was gone, swallowed by the rift. Yet the wound above us hadn't closed. It hovered in the air, jagged and raw, bleeding light and shadow together like some festering scar that refused to heal.
Every few seconds, it pulsed—like a heart that wasn't supposed to beat here. The air warped with each throb, bending the broken flagstones beneath our feet.
The forgotten huddled together near the remnants of a collapsed wall. Mothers clutched their children close, the old leaned on broken staffs, the wounded pressed bloodied cloth to their sides. None spoke louder than a whisper. Even whispering seemed dangerous now, like sound itself might draw the rift's attention.
Dev paced in restless circles, muttering curses under his breath. The girl with the crowbar kept her eyes on the sky, jaw clenched tight. The boy on his crutch whispered the word again, the one the elder had left behind.
"Anchor…"
The old man grabbed him by the shoulder, shushing him harshly. "Don't say it. That name invites ruin. Don't let it touch your tongue."
"But—"
"No!" The old man's voice cracked like a whip. He lowered it again, face pale. "Some names aren't for us to carry. Forget it."
The boy bit his lip, eyes wide.
I ignored them. My grip on the Inkblade was slick with blood and sweat, though I wasn't sure anymore how much of the blood was mine and how much belonged to the blade itself. Its whispers hadn't stopped since the duel. They coiled through my mind, never silent, never merciful.
"…fracture… anchor… stir… the script bends… the ink unravels…"
I pressed the blade tip to the cracked stone at my feet. My voice came out low, almost a growl. "Not now."
The shadows recoiled, the whispers dimming. Not gone. Just waiting. Always waiting.
✦
The system flickered in the air, its sterile glow a harsh contrast to the chaos above.
[ Scenario Update Pending. ][ Realms destabilizing… ]
The words burned into the air, cold and sharp.
Then the rift pulsed again. This time, it didn't just bleed light and shadow—it opened windows.
Shapes twisted across it like reflections on shattered glass. For a heartbeat, the plaza was gone. Instead, we saw other places.
Mountains crumbled beneath storms of fire. Armored figures knelt in neat lines before a black throne, their faces hidden by masks that seemed older than the world itself.
The image shifted—
Forests stretched beneath three glowing moons, beasts moving in silence, their eyes burning with unnatural light. The trees weren't trees at all but spires of bone wrapped in vines.
Another shift—
A desert of endless ash where titanic skeletons half-buried in the sand fought invisible wars, their bones grinding together like thunder.
Then an ocean, black and endless, with waves that rose higher than mountains. Something stirred beneath the surface, scales larger than cities glinting as it turned.
The visions shattered, each image cracking like glass, replaced by the wounded sky.
The survivors were pale, trembling. Even Dev—who cursed everything without fear—had fallen silent.
Finally, he spat to break the silence. "More worlds. Just what we needed."
The girl's grip tightened on her crowbar until her knuckles bled white. "How do we even fight realms?"
No one answered. Because there was no answer.
✦
The glow descended again, colder this time.
[ Warning: Act II expansion in progress. ][ Additional dimensional factions may arrive. Prepare. ]
I muttered under my breath, bitterness sharp on my tongue. "As if we had a choice."
Then another light shimmered, cutting across the system's glow. Different. Wrong.
A single line burned into the air before me.
[ …can you hear me? ]
My chest tightened.
This wasn't the system. The font was jagged, wrong. The glow wasn't the system's sterile white but something darker, fractured, like ink bleeding into paper.
The others didn't react. Only me.
I swallowed hard, my voice rasping. "Who… who are you?"
The light stuttered, forming words again.
[ I know what the elder spoke of. The Anchor is not what they think. ]
The Inkblade pulsed in my grip. Its shadows stirred violently, as if they recognized the voice, as if they wanted it closer.
My throat went dry. "Explain."
For a moment, silence. Then the words bent back into place.
[ You may call me Unknown Origin. ]
I almost laughed. Almost. Another voice. Another name. Just what I needed.
"Unknown Origin," I whispered. "That's not an answer."
The reply came jagged, fragmented, as though it was being torn apart by something larger than itself.
[ The gods keep their scripts. ][ The sects keep their legends. ][ But both tremble… at the same shadow. ]
The words faltered, scattering into broken fragments before reforming again.
[ Find the truth, Ishaan Reed… or drown beneath their fear. ]
Static devoured the message. The glow cracked apart, dissolving into smoke. Gone.
No explanation. No proof. Just another mystery piled on the rest.
✦
The girl's voice snapped me back. "Reed?"
I blinked. They were all staring at me.
"You… zoned out." Dev's eyes narrowed, suspicion sharp. "What happened?"
I considered lying. But the Inkblade hummed, shadows crawling up my arm like it already knew what choice I'd make.
"…Nothing good," I said at last. My voice was flat, tired. "Just another reminder that the gods aren't done with us."
The old man muttered bitterly, "We should never have followed him…"
But the boy—still leaning on his crutch—spoke louder this time. His voice shook, but his words carried weight. "But he kept us alive. Even against them."
The girl's eyes burned, defiant. "He's not the one we should fear."
The mother pulled her child closer. She didn't speak, but her eyes lingered on me longer than the others. Not full of trust, but not full of fear either. Something in-between.
[ Trust Value Updated. ]
The system's cold voice cut across the silence, but for once it didn't feel hostile. It felt… like acknowledgment.
✦
Then the rift flared again.
Stone groaned beneath our feet. The air shimmered, bending with a heat that wasn't natural.
A low sound rolled through the plaza. A sound deeper than thunder, more ancient than storms.
The first claw tore through.
Scaled. Burning red. Each talon the size of a man's arm, scraping against the edges of the rift as though even the wound in the sky struggled to contain it.
The girl gasped. "What is that?"
The system answered before I could.
[ Dimensional Rift Expansion: Beast Realm. ][ Survival Condition: Hold until dawn. ]
The claw dragged downward, peeling the rift wider, sparks of light and shadow flying like shattered glass.
From within, something roared. A roar so vast it rattled my bones, shook dust from the broken walls, and made the survivors cry out in terror.
Dev cursed, drawing his knife. "Perfect. Just perfect."
The boy fell to one knee, covering his ears. The mother screamed, pulling her child close. The old man prayed under his breath, words spilling out so fast they tangled.
And me?
I raised the Inkblade. Shadows crawled higher, wrapping my arm, my shoulder, my throat. The blade pulsed like a living heart in my hand.
The whispers returned, stronger than before.
"…hunger… feast… blood of beasts… ink devours flesh… dawn will not come…"
I exhaled slowly. "Then let's see if dawn listens."
Because survival wasn't just their condition.It was mine.
And as the beast forced its way through, tearing reality open with claws and flame, I realized this was no longer about enduring.
This was war.