The battle with Zenith had left more than just wounds.
It had cracked something deep in Elias—something not easily mended.
He stood at the edge of the Wraithspine Sector now, leaning heavily on a broken pillar, his cloak torn and his body pulsing with residual damage. This district, a shattered relic of old magic and forgotten wars, was where the Rebellion would make its stand next.
Here, the System's grip faltered.
Here, monsters whispered to one another in the shadows.
And something older than even the System stirred beneath the surface.
---
Two Days Earlier – Crimson Sanctum, Recovery Room
Elias woke to Ceryn standing over him, arms folded, eyes as tired as his body felt.
"You fought Zenith and lived," she said.
"Barely."
"You shouldn't have gone alone."
"I needed to know what I was facing."
"And now you do," Ceryn replied sharply. "He's faster, stronger, and doesn't bleed."
Elias sat up. "He's not perfect. He flinched. I saw it."
