Dust choked the air like a funeral shroud, settling over the crater's jagged maw in lazy, mocking swirls. The foundations of Eldoria—once the city's unyielding heart—now yawned open, a wound festering with shadow and stone. From the labyrinth of cellars and collapsed tunnels, survivors clawed their way free: not warriors clad in steel, but hollow-eyed families, merchants with soot-streaked robes, and elders whose steps faltered on rubble-sharpened grief.
A child's wail pierced the haze first, then hushed whispers rippled outward like cracks in ice.
"Gods, look—over there. By the twisted beam."
A wiry scavenger, his face a map of fresh cuts, pointed into the gloom. There, sprawled amid the debris like a fallen star, lay the stranger. White hair splayed against pulverized marble, his chest rising in shallow, defiant hitches. Flanking him, crossed like silent sentinels, were the katanas—blades that hummed with dormant fury, their edges catching faint glimmers of dying light.
"He's... alive?" The old woman beside the scavenger clutched her shawl, voice threading between hope and horror. "After that thing tore through? No man walks away from shadows like those."
"Not just any man," muttered a burly baker, his flour-dusted apron torn to rags. He knelt, pressing callused fingers to the stranger's neck. A pulse—faint, but unyielding. "Feel that? Steady as a war drum. And these swords... I've heard the tavern tales. Demon-forged, they say. Marked him as the white-haired blade who stood with the princess in the old cave runs."
The group exchanged glances, the weight of the moment settling heavier than the stones at their feet. No time for debate; the sky above still wept void-tears, and the distant roar of the barrier's strain echoed like a beast's labored breath.
"Right, then," the scavenger said, straightening with grim resolve. "We owe him—hell, we owe them all. Door's splintered—make a litter. Easy now, like he's glass. One wrong jolt, and we're burying heroes instead of hauling 'em."
They worked in hushed urgency, lashing the shattered oak with belts and scarves. As they lifted him—light as a blade, heavy as fate—the old woman murmured a half-forgotten prayer to the Starlit Accord, her words a fragile ward against the encroaching night. The procession snaked through the ravaged streets: a ragged line of the unbroken, carrying their unlikely savior toward the lone beacon piercing the bruise-blackened horizon—the Royal Castle, its golden dome flickering like a candle in a gale.
At the castle's yawning gates, chaos reigned in ordered frenzy. Makeshift triage tents bloomed like bloodied flowers along the battlements, healers barking triage calls amid the moans of the wounded. Princess Alessia paced the outer ward, her emerald gown tattered at the hems, fairy-bloodline lending her eyes an unnatural gleam amid the torchlight. Her commands cut through the din like silver arrows, but beneath the steel, exhaustion carved lines into her porcelain features—lines deepened by the ghosts of old bonds now fraying under this fresh apocalypse.
"Hold the eastern flank—reroute the alchemists to reinforce the runes! And someone fetch me a damn status report on the outer wards before they shatter!"
A lieutenant, his tabard singed and face ashen, snapped to attention. "Highness, the barrier's at sixty percent integrity. Mages are burning out—"
"Sixty? Eos preserve us." Alessia's fist clenched on her rapier's hilt, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "That beast in the sky... it's not just siege. It's mocking us. Pour reserves into the core lattice. If it cracks, we're ash—and Kenta and Sarah won't forgive me for letting their city fall."
The lieutenant blinked, a ghost of a smile cracking his grim mask. "The cave kids? Still pulling strings from afar, eh?"
Alessia's glare softened to a fierce spark. "Damn right they are. Now move—before I drag you there myself."
The lieutenant nodded, turning to relay orders, when a ragged cry rose from the gates.
"Your Highness! Survivors—from the undercity! They've got... they've got Kenta!"
Alessia whirled, her heart lurching like a gut-punched blow. The approaching knot of civilians parted, revealing the stretcher at their core: Kenta, her reckless blade-brother from those godforsaken Abyss Caves, where his dual strikes had carved escape paths through goblin hordes while she'd woven illusions to cloak their squad. Blood crusted his lips, but his scars—those jagged maps of every trial they'd shared—told a saga of survival no mortal should claim. Not her Kenta, the idiot who'd laughed off cave-ins and sworn they'd conquer the stars together.
"By the veiled stars—Kenta?" she breathed, striding forward as the group knelt, her voice cracking on the edge of command and plea. She dropped to one knee beside the litter, gloved hand brushing his fevered brow—careful, like tracing a fragile rune. "You stubborn fool... what did you do down there? Fight the abyss itself?"
The scavenger, still gripping the litter's edge, met her eyes with weary awe. "Pulled him from the crater's throat, ma'am. Heart's still kicking—faint, but fierce. Fought like ten men, from the look of the shadows he left carved in stone. And that white-haired girl of yours... whispers say she vanished in the blast."
Alessia's jaw tightened, a storm of relief and terror crashing behind her eyes—memories flooding: Sarah's System glitches saving Alessia's life in the caves, that sly grin over shared rations, the three of them vowing blood-oaths under starless stone. My friends. My anchors. "You brave fools... you've saved more than a life today. Archmage Lyra! Finn! To me—now! Your finest weaves on this man. Bind his wounds with celestial thread if you must. He does not fall—not after dragging my sorry hide out of those caves. Do you hear me? He wakes."
The archmages materialized in a swirl of robes and ether, Lyra's silver braids whipping as she knelt. "Highness, his aura's... fractured. Like glass under storm pressure. This'll tax us—echoes of that dual-blade curse he carries."
"Then tax yourselves!" Alessia snapped, then softened, gripping Lyra's shoulder with a tremble she couldn't hide. "He's our fulcrum, Lyra—the blade that pulled me from the dark first. The one who believed Sarah's crazy System rants. Do it. For all of us."
As azure and verdant magics bloomed over Kenta, weaving runes that hummed like distant thunder, Alessia's mind raced ahead—steel over the ache. Kenta's here, broken but breathing. Sarah... gods, where's my firecracker? She was the one who patched our wounds with that glitchy blue light, laughed when I called her 'goddess-in-training.' If she's out there... She spun to a cluster of royal guards, their plate scarred but postures unbowed—veterans from those same cave runs, faces she knew like scarred palms.
"You three—elite vanguard, cave squad remnants. Sarah's out there. You remember—white as fresh snow, eyes like chipped flint, the girl who turned goblin traps into kill-zones with a flick of her wrist. She was in the fray before the nebula hit. Scour every hovel, every sewer grate. Bring her here, whole and breathing. No excuses—the shadows won't wait, and neither will I."
The lead guard, a scarred veteran with a notched helm—Joren, who'd once owed Sarah his life after a System-predicted cave-in—saluted sharply, a wry grin flashing. "The princess's favorite troublemaker? On it, Highness. If she's kicking, we'll drag her back griping the whole way. And if the demons stir?"
Alessia's smile was a blade's edge, laced with the old cave-fire. "Then remind them why we three clawed out of the abyss together. Gold runs in our blood—and hers runs code. Go. Bring my family home."
The guards melted into the gloom, boots echoing like fading heartbeats, Joren's mutter trailing: "Easier said than herding cave-wyrms..."
In the shadowed belly of a shielded inn—its wards flickering like a guttering flame—Sarah Yamazaki clawed back to wakefulness. It wasn't mercy that roused her, but betrayal: a sledgehammer throb radiating from marrow to muscle, the brutal toll of Auto-Battle Mode's frenzy and Infinity Calculation's endless loops. Kenta's Mana had been a balm, threading gold through her frayed nerves, but it couldn't erase the echo—the sensation of her body as a puppet, strings yanked by algorithms colder than any god's whim.
"Damn it all," she rasped, shoving upright on the splintered cot. Her limbs quaked, vision swimming in gray afterimages of claws and voids. The room spun once, twice, before steadying. She staggered to the warped window, palms slamming against the sill for purchase.
Outside, Eldoria lay eviscerated: spires toppled like felled titans, streets choked with smoldering husks of what had been homes. Smoke coiled upward in accusatory fingers, clawing at a sky bruised eternal black. At its apex loomed the abomination—Nox, no longer the sly devil but a colossal phoenix of writhing umbra, wings spanning horizons, her single starlit eye a captive scream frozen in shadow. Below, the demon tide surged: ten thousand S-rank horrors, their forms a kaleidoscope of fangs and fluxing night, battering the castle's golden barrier with waves of miasma that made the air scream.
"She's... not gone," Sarah whispered, bile rising like acid. "Twisted. Worse. Orion's strings—pulled her into his web. Nighshinthal bloodline? Just bait on the hook. And Alessia... gods, if she's seeing this from the walls, after everything we pulled her through..."
Despair coiled in her gut, a serpent ready to strike. Kenta gave his soul down there. Pushed the scar open, bought us breath. Alessia held the line up top, illusions flickering like her damn smile in the caves. And for what? This?
Then, unbidden, the blue veil shimmered into view—a System overlay, crisp as frostbite, its chime a mocking clarion in her skull.
SYSTEM QUEST INITIATED
Objective: Sever the Last Nighshinthal Thread (Nox, The Controlled Beast).
Threat Assessment: Puppet amplified by Shadow Emperor's Authority—leash unbreakable by conventional means. Catastrophic escalation imminent. Host survival probability: 7.3%. Altarian ally integration potential: +12.4% (fairy-bloodline synergy unlocked).
Rewards on Completion:
· Symbiotic Evolution: Fuse Infinity Calculation with latent Mirror Ability unlock. Grants predictive mimicry—evolve enemy protocols in real-time, turning their strengths to your blade. Bonus: Interface with Altarian weaves for hybrid illusions.
· Cellular Apex Regeneration: High-tier healing cascade. Evolves to Infinite Loop Regen post-combat data accrual—scars become fuel, not chains. Synergy: Accelerates fairy-bond recoveries.
Critical Directive: Failure triggers Host Termination Protocol. Systemic Cascade: Total erasure of progress, bonds, and essence. No respawn. No mercy. Query: Integrate ally data?
The screen pulsed, insistent, its edges bleeding faint red—like blood seeping through code.
Sarah's laugh cracked out, brittle and edged with mania. "Integrate what? Alessia's fairy tricks? Oh, now you pipe up with team-ups? After letting me flay myself in that pit—alone?"
The System didn't flinch—never did. But a sub-holo flickered: Voice Emulation: Offline. Query for activation? Ally ping: Royal Guard inbound—ETA 4:12.
She snorted, wiping sweat from her brow, a ghost of cave-memories flickering: Alessia's laugh echoing off stone as Sarah's System glitched a goblin ambush into fireworks. "Yeah? Activate it. And ping her back—tell the princess her 'goddess-in-training' is still kicking. Let's hear you justify this suicide note, you glitchy bastard."
A neutral, synthetic timbre bloomed in her mind—faceless, but laced with that infuriating efficiency. Affirmative. Justification: Nox's vessel-state amplifies Naein-echo threats by 400%. Your Potential (S+) aligns with counter-profile; Altarian bond (Vol. 1 pact) boosts evasion by 28%. Refusal cascades to zero-sum for host and allies. Query: Proceed with ping?
"Proceed?" Sarah echoed, voice rising to a snarl as she slammed a fist against the sill. Wood splintered under her knuckles. "You think I want this? Kenta's half-dead because of her—us. Alessia's probably up there cursing my name for dragging them into another mess. Fine. But if I pull this off, you owe me. No more cryptic bullshit. Full debrief on your strings, System—and throw in a way to glitch Orion's leash. Deal? Ping Alessia: 'Cave squad's not done yet. Hold the light.'"
Parameters noted. Symbiosis threshold met. Quest locked. Ping dispatched: Ally response ETA 2:47.
The screen dissolved in a cascade of azure shards, leaving only the roar of the barrier's protest and the thunder of her pulse. Sarah straightened, pain sharpening to purpose—a blade's hone. Nox wasn't just a monster anymore; she was a mirror, cracked and cruel, reflecting every rejection Sarah had swallowed—and every bond she'd clawed to keep. Alessia, Kenta... we're the ones who rewrite the dark.
"Let's evolve, you bastard," she growled to the shadowed sky, to the puppet wheeling above, to the girl who'd died at fifteen and refused to stay buried. "And when I carve those wings off? We'll see whose strings snap first."
The inn's door rattled—guards' voices calling her name from the street below, Joren's gruff bark cutting through: "Sarah Yamazaki! Princess's orders—time to drag your glitchy ass home!" But Sarah was already moving, System humming in her veins like a second heartbeat, Alessia's imagined reply a spark in the void: Hold on, firecracker. We've got stars to chase.
The city grieved. The invasion hungered. Her quest demanded.
Dawn would break on blood and fire—or not at all.