For several seconds, nobody in the chamber moved.
The atmosphere had changed so completely that even breathing felt difficult.
Until now, Lucien had remained calm. No matter what questions they asked, no matter what accusations they made, he always carried himself with the confidence of someone who understood far more than everyone around him.
That confidence was gone.
Ayan could see it clearly.
The silver-haired man stood beside the window staring at the fractured sky, and for the first time since his arrival, genuine fear had appeared on his face.
Not concern.
Not surprise.
Fear.
The realization unsettled Ayan more than the colossal silhouette moving beyond the heavens.
Because if someone like Lucien could be frightened—
Then whatever was approaching was far beyond anything they currently understood.
Outside, the fortress had descended into chaos.
Shouts echoed through the courtyard.
People rushed between buildings.
Guards attempted to maintain order while hundreds of refugees stared upward toward the crimson fractures spreading across the sky.
The storm clouds had been completely torn apart.
Crimson light poured through the heavens like blood flowing through cracks in glass.
And beyond those fractures—
The silhouette continued moving.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Inevitably.
Ayan couldn't even comprehend its true size.
Every time he tried to focus on it, his perception seemed to distort.
Distances became meaningless.
The thing looked far away.
Yet somehow impossibly close.
Like it existed in multiple places simultaneously.
The bridge inside him reacted continuously.
Not painfully.
Urgently.
As if trying to warn him.
Or perhaps remind him of something.
Aelira was the first to break the silence.
"Who is it?"
Her voice remained calm, but Ayan knew her well enough to recognize the tension beneath it.
Lucien didn't answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed on the fractured sky.
The silence stretched.
Then stretched further.
Finally, the silver-haired man spoke.
"It shouldn't exist."
The answer only made things worse.
Aelira's expression darkened.
"What does that mean?"
Lucien laughed softly.
The sound lacked all humor.
"It means reality is becoming unstable faster than expected."
His gaze never left the sky.
"It means something that was supposed to remain dead has begun moving again."
A chill spread through the room.
Dead.
That word immediately caught Ayan's attention.
Lucien had already admitted he shouldn't exist.
Now he was speaking about something else that should have remained dead.
The pattern wasn't difficult to notice.
Ayan folded his arms.
"You know what it is."
It wasn't a question.
Lucien nodded.
"Unfortunately."
The answer sent another wave of unease through the chamber.
Nobody liked the implication behind that single word.
Unfortunately.
Not dangerous.
Not powerful.
Unfortunately.
As though the appearance of that thing created problems even for someone like Lucien.
The silver-haired man finally looked away from the window.
His pale eyes moved across the room before eventually settling on Lena.
Something complicated appeared in his expression.
Regret.
Guilt.
Perhaps both.
Then he sighed.
"The world keeps repeating itself."
Nobody interrupted him.
The atmosphere felt too heavy.
Too fragile.
Lucien slowly walked back toward the stone table while speaking.
"Long before the Harvesters arrived, before convergence became visible, before humanity understood dimensional instability, there existed kingdoms far greater than anything standing today."
His fingers traced the surface of the table.
"The current world likes to believe civilization began with its own history."
A faint smile appeared.
"It didn't."
Ayan's attention sharpened.
This was important.
He could feel it.
Lucien continued.
"There have been countless civilizations."
"Countless empires."
"Countless worlds."
The bridge pulsed softly.
His words resonated with something buried deep within Ayan's memories.
The ancient laboratory.
The first collapse.
The forgotten history humanity no longer remembered.
Lucien's gaze drifted toward the fractured sky again.
"And among them existed one kingdom unlike any other."
The room became silent.
Even the rain outside seemed quieter.
The silver-haired man closed his eyes briefly.
When he spoke again, his voice sounded distant.
As though he were remembering something far away.
"A kingdom that discovered the fractures before anyone else."
"A kingdom that learned how to travel between realities."
"A kingdom that believed itself destined to rule eternity."
Aelira frowned.
"That sounds familiar."
Lucien laughed softly.
"Every civilization eventually believes itself special."
His expression darkened.
"They all learn the same lesson."
Nobody missed the bitterness in his voice.
Whatever happened to that kingdom—
It had not ended well.
Lucien continued.
"Their ruler was brilliant."
The bridge pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Harder than before.
"The first person to successfully navigate dimensional pathways."
Another pulse.
"The first person to survive direct contact with entities beyond reality."
The room felt colder.
"The first king to declare war against existence itself."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Ayan stared at him.
Nobody knew how to respond to that.
Declare war against existence?
The statement sounded insane.
Yet somehow—
Coming from Lucien—
It felt believable.
The silver-haired man looked toward the window once more.
The colossal silhouette continued drifting behind the fractured heavens.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Watching.
"The king believed reality itself was flawed."
Lucien's voice lowered.
"He believed suffering existed because the world was built incorrectly."
Ayan felt a strange sensation.
Recognition.
The idea sounded absurd.
Yet there was something disturbingly familiar about it.
The desire to fix existence.
To reshape reality.
To create a better world.
Countless people throughout history had dreamed about exactly that.
The difference was that this king apparently possessed the power to try.
Lucien's expression hardened.
"And eventually..."
The bridge reacted violently.
"...he succeeded."
The room froze.
Aelira immediately shook her head.
"That's impossible."
Lucien smiled.
Not happily.
Sadly.
"I know."
The answer somehow made the situation even worse.
Because it implied impossibility wasn't enough to stop this person.
Ayan's gaze drifted toward the sky.
Toward the silhouette.
Toward the thing moving beyond reality.
An uncomfortable suspicion formed.
"You're talking about that."
Lucien remained silent.
Which was answer enough.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Outside, another tremor shook the fortress.
Dust drifted from the ceiling.
People shouted in the courtyard.
The sky itself seemed unstable.
Ayan suddenly understood something.
The disappearing cities.
The erased histories.
The impossible city from the vision.
Reality correction.
Everything connected.
Not through the Harvesters.
Not through the Void.
Through memory.
Through history.
Through things that should no longer exist.
His eyes narrowed.
"The cities weren't erased because of convergence."
Lucien looked at him.
Interest returned to his pale eyes.
"Continue."
Ayan ignored the invitation.
"They disappeared because something is returning."
The bridge pulsed.
The silver-haired man's smile widened slightly.
"Better."
Ayan's thoughts moved rapidly.
"The cities are connected somehow."
"Not geographically."
"Historically."
Lucien remained silent.
Which meant Ayan was getting closer.
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
The missing cities weren't random.
The people disappearing weren't random.
Reality itself wasn't malfunctioning.
It was reacting.
Trying to stop something.
Trying to erase something.
Trying desperately to prevent a forgotten history from returning.
Aelira reached the same conclusion.
Her expression changed immediately.
"No."
Lucien laughed.
"Exactly."
The answer sent a chill through the room.
Because if reality itself was trying to stop something—
Then that something was probably catastrophic.
Outside, another deep sound echoed across the mountains.
BOOM.
The fortress shook again.
This time several windows cracked.
The silhouette beyond the sky appeared larger than before.
Closer.
Watching.
Waiting.
And for the first time since it appeared—
Ayan noticed something.
Eyes.
Massive eyes opening within the darkness beyond the fractures.
His heartbeat stopped.
Because those eyes weren't looking at the world.
They were looking at him.
Directly at him.
The bridge exploded with energy.
Black and crimson light erupted across his body.
Everyone in the room turned toward him.
But Ayan barely noticed.
His attention remained locked on the impossible figure beyond reality.
Then—
Something happened.
A memory surfaced.
Not his memory.
Not exactly.
A fragment.
A voice.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Forgotten.
Whispering from somewhere beyond time itself.
And for a single horrifying moment—
Ayan understood why Lucien was afraid.
Because the thing beyond the sky wasn't waking up.
It had never been asleep.
It had been waiting.
And now—
It finally knew where the bridge was.