Chapter 42 – The Pulse of the Sanctum
The faint hum of energy rippled through the air as the final rune flared to life.
The Aeternum Sanctum—our guild base, our fortress, our memory—was awakening once more.
The clearing trembled softly underfoot. Light spilled upward from the ground, tracing an intricate lattice of golden patterns that stretched across the trees. Then, in a slow, elegant bloom, a structure began to form—its crystalline spires rising from nothing, its metallic roots weaving into the soil like veins of light.
Even after years of building it, the sight still made my chest tighten.
The staff in my hand pulsed once more before settling into silence.
The portable guild base had manifested.
And despite everything—despite the end of Yggdrasil, despite the world's shift—it had answered my call.
> "Ren-sama," HIME's voice came through Message, calm but precise, "the area has stabilized. No external disturbances detected within a radius of two kilometers. Shall I begin perimeter protocols?"
"Yes. Keep it minimal," I replied, eyes scanning the now-glowing clearing. "Just in case anyone or anything is watching. We don't want attention this early."
> "Understood. I will establish a silent ward—physical, magical, and visual concealment."
"Good."
A few minutes later, she arrived—emerging from between the trees with measured steps, her automaton form shimmering faintly under the blue light of the Sanctum. Her once-metallic skin now looked strangely organic in this world's illumination, her silver hair catching glints of sunlight.
> "Perimeter secured," she said. "No immediate threats detected."
"Perfect," I said, setting the staff upright and stepping back.
With one deep breath, I let my body relax—and then change.
Feathers faded. Flesh and data folded inward. The sleek avian frame collapsed into a shifting silhouette, dissolving like liquid glass. A heartbeat later, my true form stood in its place—white turtleneck, crimson overcoat, and the smile-marked face of the Doppelganger Illusionist.
Even here, in this uncharted reality, the transformation felt seamless.
"Time to make this place invisible," I murmured.
I raised my hands and cast a layered series of illusions—Veil of Mirrors, Shadow Light, Cognitive Warp. Complex sigils spiraled outward, bending perception itself.
The forest shimmered once, then calmed.
From outside, no one would see anything but trees and sunlight.
Even magical detection would slip past it; my illusion web wasn't just visual—it rewrote cognitive data.
"There," I said quietly. "Our little corner of nowhere is now no one's business."
> "You never disappoint, Ren-sama," HIME said with a small nod.
I smirked. "Habit. Can't break it after eleven years."
> "Then shall we proceed inside?"
"Yes."
I reached into my coat pocket and withdrew a small, polished card—black metal laced with silver veins.
The Guild Access Sigil.
Every guild member once had one, but only mine still pulsed with energy.
When I pressed it against the air before me, the space rippled like water. A circular gate shimmered into view—golden, stable, familiar.
Home.
---
The moment I stepped through, light engulfed me—
—and I emerged in the grand chamber of Asgard, the topmost layer of Aeternum Sanctum.
It felt exactly as I'd left it.
Marble floors gleaming with starlit reflections.
Pillars of crystal data climbing into infinity.
The faint melody of mana streams whispering through the structure.
This was the heart of our creation—the throne level, the core of everything the Three Burning Eyes had built.
And it was still alive.
I turned in slow circles, taking in the sight. Every detail was intact: the banners depicting our sigil, the archives filled with shimmering data crystals, the sealed door leading to the treasury.
My boots echoed softly as I walked toward the central console—a monolithic pillar of transparent crystal where the guild's data was stored. I placed my hand against it.
It responded instantly.
Light burst from the contact point, flowing up my arm and across the entire room. Lines of code appeared in the air, streaming around me in perfect synchronization.
> [Guild System Access: Active Member Detected – Traveler_R]
[Verification: Complete.]
[Welcome back.]
For a second, I just stood there.
Not because of nostalgia—but because everything was still functioning.
The guild's core system was online.
All the archives were intact.
All data logs, item inventories, NPC parameters—everything had survived the transition.
"This shouldn't be possible," I whispered. "No servers, no login network, yet the system runs independently…"
> "Ren-sama," HIME said, stepping beside me, her crimson eyes flickering faintly. "Permission to interface with the guild database?"
"Granted. Let's confirm our assets."
She reached forward and touched the console. Immediately, her eyes widened—an expression rare for her.
Light enveloped her as streams of code connected to her form, cascading into geometric patterns that reflected on the walls. The data resonance grew stronger, filling the chamber with a rhythmic hum that sounded almost like a heartbeat.
> "Synchronization complete," she murmured. "System link established. Guild protocols recognize me as Sub-Core AI—status confirmed."
"Good," I said, smiling. "Then begin system diagnostics. I want to know how deep the integrity goes."
> "Understood."
She closed her eyes. Light pulsed from her body in steady waves as she interfaced directly with the Sanctum's systems.
For several minutes, the air was filled with data threads—streams of light flowing between her and the walls, scanning every corner of the base.
Then, she went completely still.
The hum of energy subsided into silence.
"…HIME?" I asked.
No response at first.
She opened her eyes slowly.
There was something strange in them—uncertainty.
> "Ren-sama," she said quietly.
"Yes?"
She looked down at her hands again, then at the console, then back to me.
Her lips parted slightly, but the words didn't come out immediately.
> "I… think I understand what changed," she said finally.
"What do you mean?"
> "The guild base…"
She hesitated, gaze unfocused, as if searching for the right phrasing.
> "It's not that it's malfunctioning, or even enhanced. It's…"
Her voice trailed off.
I frowned. "It's what, HIME?"
She turned to me slowly, the glow in her eyes flickering between red and gold.
> "It's—"
The words never came.
The lights of the Sanctum flickered once, casting long shadows across the chamber.
And in that charged silence, I felt it too—a faint pulse, deep within the structure, echoing through the walls like a heartbeat.
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End of Chapter 42 – The Pulse of the Sanctum