Chapter 10: The Shadow Between Worlds
Night fell unevenly — like the world itself was trying to hide something.
The storm had passed, but the sky hadn't cleared. Thin cracks of light shimmered faintly between clouds, the kind of light that didn't come from the moon.
Aira sat at the rooftop's edge, watching the distorted horizon. "It's getting worse, isn't it?" she asked quietly.
Rimuru leaned against the railing beside her, her white hair catching the faint glimmer from the Veil. "Yeah," she said softly. "The boundaries are thinning faster than before. I can feel it in the air."
Aira turned to her. "You said the Veil reacts to me — but… when you fought those things, you almost disappeared. Why doesn't that happen now?"
Rimuru blinked, then smiled faintly. "You really noticed that?"
Aira gave a small shrug. "I notice everything when it comes to you."
For a second, Rimuru didn't answer. She just looked at her — really looked — and something inside her chest settled. The constant flicker in her body had gone quiet. Her reflection in the glass was stable.
She hadn't realized until now that the light around her wasn't shaking. It was steady.
> She's my anchor…
The thought came unbidden, gentle and absolute. Every moment spent near Aira dulled the chaos inside her. Every glance, every word, every laugh pulled her closer to being real.
Aira tilted her head. "You're staring again."
Rimuru smirked. "Just checking if you're still human."
Aira smiled faintly, but the question in her eyes lingered. "And if I'm not?"
> "Then I'll still protect you," Rimuru said simply.
For a moment, everything felt right — until the wind shifted.
The rooftop lights flickered, and a faint distortion rippled through the air. The reflection in the glass behind them wavered — not like a normal reflection, but like something behind it was moving.
Rimuru's hand moved instinctively, summoning a faint blue shimmer of energy.
> "Aira. Step back."
The glass cracked — a long, slow sound that echoed like a sigh. The surface rippled outward, and a shadow stepped through.
It wasn't human — more like the idea of one. Its outline was wrapped in threads of dark light, face obscured, voice sharp enough to scrape against the mind.
> "How poetic," it said, its tone amused. "The half-born finds an anchor. Did you really think that would save you, Rimuru of the Veil?"
Aira's pulse jumped. "It knows your name—"
Rimuru's expression hardened, her blue eyes narrowing.
> "You talk too much for something that doesn't exist."
The figure laughed softly — a sound that didn't belong in this world.
> "Oh, I exist. More than you do, fractured one. But look at you… stable, solid, glowing. How quaint. The power of emotion. How human of you."
Rimuru raised her hand, light forming around her palm. "You want to test that theory?"
> "Not yet," the shadow said. "But soon. The Core has begun to stir, and when it does, not even your anchor will save you."
The world distorted — glass melting back into shape as the figure's form began to fade.
> "We'll meet again," it whispered, its voice echoing from nowhere and everywhere. "When the girl remembers what she was."
Then, silence.
Rimuru stood still for a long moment, her breathing shallow. The air returned to normal, the shimmer gone.
Aira touched her arm gently. "Rimuru… who was that?"
Rimuru didn't answer right away. Instead, she looked at Aira — her gaze soft but heavy, like she was weighing a truth too dangerous to say aloud.
> "Someone I thought was gone," she finally said. "Someone from the other side."
Aira frowned. "The other side of what?"
Rimuru smiled faintly — that same sad, familiar smile that always meant she knew more than she was saying.
> "Of me," she whispered.