Reichardt's POV
It began as a faint ringing in my ears. At first, I thought it was exhaustion, the aftermath of too many sleepless nights and too many battles fought against creatures that should never have existed. But the ringing grew louder, sharper, until it became a whisper.
Then the visions came. They hit me like waves, sudden and merciless. One moment, I was inside my quarters, trying to suppress the throbbing ache in my chest. Next, I was standing in a ruined city, drowned in fog, City E7.
Flashes of broken walls. Burned buildings. The stench of blood and decay. And there, amid the wreckage, stood him...
Richard Jing.
He looked different from the man Ahce had described, but I could still recognize him from the fragmented memory the core carried. Silver-gray eyes glowing faintly red, veins pulsing black under his skin, his breath ragged as he tightened his grip on a bloodstained blade. The whispers grew clearer, his voice, my heartbeat.
