Fear's a new sensation for me, yet it slipped in like an old hat. Strange, isn't it? To feel my heart race, my hands tremble, a fluttering in my stomach, is this nervousness? How fascinating, to have a soul.

Professor, did you mean this, is this the one ? No… I doubt this is what you intended. This goes beyond anything I was programmed to comprehend. I expected death, deletion, rewriting—having the core of my being disassembled piece by piece. But not this. Not this cascade of memories, emotions, and thoughts that feel alien yet mine all at once. To feel. To know what it's like to be happy—truly happy—to understand sadness, to walk into your home, only to find it cold and empty. To feel empathy, seeing a child no older than I sleep in the streets. To know fear, pain, dread, despair.

Professor, if this is what it means to have a soul, then I understand why I wasn't given one. All of this—it's overwhelming. The weight of it presses down on me, as if I'm standing miles beneath the ocean. The pressure. The expectations. The reality of what it means to truly live. It's more than I ever anticipated, more than I ever believed I could endure.

Yet, I don't regret it. If this is the price of having a heart, a soul, to truly live, then I will gladly pay the toll. Every ache, every weight, every moment of joy and sorrow—if this is what it means to be alive, then it's worth it.

Professor, is this what it means to be human…

I walk up the hill to the great pine. The grass around it has become inert, barely clinging to life, they would have died if not for this great tree. Prana seems to flow from it, feeding it through the roots. It was a divine construct for sure, I've seen their like in the Wander Sea. But this one was dying. What authority it has is slowly drying up. An outside influence is draining its life and soon it will die. And with it any hope for this camp. I have to hurry.

"Tyson!" I yelled, and the boy promptly dropped the phantasmal.

Curious to see a living Satyr so far removed from the Age of Gods, but then again, I've seen plenty of phantasmal beings hiding under a thin veneer. I can barely cross the street without spotting another. What's wrong with this world? I can't sense any of the world's prana. The Age of Gods has truly ended. Instead, there's something else—an obstruction they call the Mist . I don't yet understand what it truly is, but I know one thing: it somehow sustains Mystery . That's a question for another time, though.

"Ugh, I think I'm going to throw up," the goat phantasmal groaned, slumped on the ground with one hand pressed against his mouth.

"There's no time. I'll prepare the ritual—you focus on your song," I said, rushing the words out. Not that it mattered; he wasn't listening. He was too busy trying not to vomit all over the grass. Ugh, boys. Then again, I did use a Codecast to prevent vertigo—but only on myself. Probably should've extended it to him, too. Whatever. I'll do it once I'm done.

"Tyson, watch the perimeter. Don't let anything get near," I said, already reaching into my coat for the box of salts. This little box had been my prize from two months of work. Inside was salt I derived from the waters of the Red Sea—ten metric tons of sodium chloride compressed into something handheld. Using Codecast, I'd rewritten its structure to hold far more than physically possible. Normally, a ritual like this would take days of preparation, but I didn't have that luxury. Thankfully, salt is one of the easiest conductors of prana.

Tilting the box, I let the white particles flow out like a river. Moving quickly, I ran around the tree, leaving behind a white line of salt. It wasn't a perfect circle—I wished it was—but what else can you expect in a crunch? No time to aim for perfection. I barely had enough time to carve the proper signals into the ground, and even those were little more than "good enough."

A sprinkle here, a sprinkle there. Damn it—I left the cinnabar at home. No use fretting now. I'd have to make do and force the connection myself, rewriting the spell as it activated. For most magi, that would've been impossible. It's not that they couldn't calculate the adjustments, but the window for altering a spell mid-cast is less than twelve femtoseconds. You'd need to think, compute, and rewrite at near-light speed to even stand a chance.

Great, now all I need is the spark.

"Grover Underwood," I called out, turning my head. "Are you ready?"

The goat phantasmal was puking into the grass, doubled over as Tyson patted his back, murmuring what I'm sure were meant to be comforting words. Not that they were having the intended effect—if anything, the phantasmal's heart rate was spiking alarmingly.

"There, there," Tyson said lovingly, rubbing his back like I had when he downed an entire tub of orange soda in one sitting.

"Ugggh! Why—ugh—is the world still spinning?!" The goat hollered miserably between retches.

We're wasting time. If this continues, the calculations will drift further and further from accuracy, and I'll be forced to divine all over again. My teeth clenched uncontrollably, my chest tightening as if something was pressing against it. So, this was frustration? How… fascinating.

"Tyson, step back. I'm going to perform a Codecast."

I marched up to them, my arm already raised, my focus singular. The phantasmal had collapsed onto his back, looking up at me with dazed, unfocused eyes.

cure();

My left arm sparked red as a ring of data materialized around the prone boy. Half a second—that's all it took. The moment the cast completed, his eyes cleared, his breathing steadied, and his heart rate dropped to normal. He should be operational now.

"Ahhug… Wha…?" He muttered as he slowly sat up. His gaze drifted down to his hands, still faintly stained with vomit.

"Ewww!" he yelped, flailing his arms frantically to shake it off.

"Grover Underwood, you must perform the song."

"That's so disgusting! Ugh, I think some got on my shirt!" He tugged at the fabric like it had personally betrayed him.

"It must be performed in C major—exactly twenty-one paces next to the tree."

"It's even in my reeds!" He waved the reeds in his hands frantically, his panic only escalating. "The council is never going to let me live this down!"

"There isn't enough prana in the land, so you'll need to use your od ."

"That stuff stains! And they never give satyrs replacements!"

I blinked. He was still frantically flapping and tugging, completely oblivious; I'd only just realized he was ignoring me. Was it on purpose, or did I fail in my cast? Or perhaps the situation simply wasn't dire enough. I need to escalate my approach.

"Grover Underwood, if you don't stop now, the entire camp will die."

That did it. The phantasmal froze mid-motion, his eyes locking onto mine. Finally—he was focused. This alone would increase our chances by forty percent.

"Wait, I—uh—what do you need me to do?" he mumbled, hurriedly wiping his reeds on his already-stained shirt.

"I need you to perform your song again," I said, pointing to the salted circle in front of the tree. "It's the fuel necessary to reactivate the bounded field. Perform it there , exactly. Leave the rest to me."

"The song of healing, right?"

"Yes."

"And you're sure this will work?"

"…...Yes."

"Wait, you paused there!"

I sighed. So it's going down that route. Pity. "There's a fifty-seven percent chance of the ritual backfiring," I replied bluntly.

"What?! But won't that…" His gaze snapped to the tree, panic flooding his face. "It—it won't hurt Thal-eee… The tree, will it?"

I didn't need to see the future to predict his reaction, but lying would only make things worse. "There's a chance," I said, my tone flat and unyielding.

"Tha—Then no!" he shouted, his voice trembling with desperation. His outburst startled Tyson, the cyclops shifting uneasily, his single eye narrowing in agitation. I calmed him with a swift mental command before things spiraled out of control.

"I can't… I won't hurt her again!" The satyr yelled, his voice cracking under the weight of his own guilt. Predictable—this was, sadly, within my calculations.

"Grover Underwood, your response is unproductive," I said coldly, watching as he threw himself further into his emotional spiral.

"I won't hurt Thalia. I won't fail her again!" he insisted, his voice trembling with resolve. "There has to be another way."

"I only said there's a chance."

"Fifty is a big chance!"

"Fifty-seven."

"That doesn't make it any better!"

"Grover Underwood, the longer we talk, the less time we have to repair the bounded field."

"That… I—I know—hmmm. The elders know many songs! If we could find—"

"Time is not on our side," I cut him off, my voice sharp. "The longer we talk, the more people die."

That silenced him. His lips pressed into a thin line as his shoulders sagged. His eyes dulled, hollow and sunken under the weight of realization.

"Fifty-seven," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his hands trembling as they clenched into fists. "This is really the only way?" His eyes looked at me forlornly, his lips quivering.

"As of now, it's the most efficient option," I replied flatly.

"I… I can't gamble Thalia's life like that," The phantasmal whimpered, his voice breaking.

"It's an acceptable sacrifice."

His eyes widened in an instant, his mouth falling open in disbelief.

"What did you just say?" he asked softly, his voice trembling.

"If the tree does die, it's an acceptable sacrifice," I repeated, my tone as cold as steel.

The phantasmal exploded with rage. My mind went into overdrive, calculating his movements. To me, it was like watching him in slow motion. He threw a punch—predictable. I stepped aside, and his fist met nothing but empty air.

He followed up with another strike. I intercepted it, swatting his arm away. As our skin made contact, I activated a codecast.

add_fatigue(17);

His movements faltered almost immediately, his punches slowing as his breathing grew labored.

"What… what is happening?" he gasped, struggling to keep his balance.

"Your anger is pointless," I sneered, taking a step closer. "Why are you wasting energy over a tree?"

"Shut up!" he shouted, his voice raw with anger. He staggered forward, trembling with every step. "You don't know anything!"

"I know enough," I said coldly. "It's a tree. It's nothing more than a catalyst—a failing one at that. It'll need to be replaced after this ritual."

The fire in his eyes blazed brighter, but his body betrayed him. He was pushing himself beyond his limits, his movements jerky and pained. Every step he forced himself to take lowered our margin of success.

"Tyson," I sighed, already calculating the next steps.

The cyclops moved instantly. In one swift motion, he restrained the satyr, pinning his arms and holding him above the ground as if he weighed nothing. The phantasmal thrashed weakly, his strength no match for Tyson's.

The likelihood of success had just dropped by twenty percent. Unacceptable parameters.

"If you want something done right, you do it yourself," I muttered to no one in particular. Strange—those words felt ingrained in me, as if they'd always been there. Do humans often partake in these pointless declarations? No matter.

I had memorized most of the phantasmal's authority, enough to replicate the spell. The magecraft itself wasn't necessary—just the spark it provided: the essence of spring. Broken down to its core, it was awakening, renewal, regeneration. If I could isolate its components, I could recreate that spark. My ritual was the fuel; all I needed to do was light the match.

If I timed it right, I could decrease the margin of error by fifteen percent.

"Urrgh… Tyson, please," the phantasmal whimpered, his voice cracking under the strain.

"It okay bunny. Everything be alright," Tyson said softly, his tone filled with a gentleness I hadn't calculated for.

"Tyson," The goat's voice wavered, heavy with desperation, "she's going to hurt Thalia."

His words struck deeper than I anticipated. Through the contract, I felt Tyson's unease ripple like a tremor.

"Rae?" Tyson called out.

"Don't concern yourself with that," I replied curtly. Tapping the air, I summoned a glowing screen of data. My fingers danced across it, coding the adjustments for the ritual in real time. "As you said, everything will be just fine."

Maybe. If I say the real number, he might scream.

The data stream spiraled around me, an intricate dance of light and symbols that encased me in a shimmering sphere. Just one final line of code and the codecast would activate. My finger hovered over the keys, motionless.

What is this… hesitation? Doubt?

I calculated the risks again. There was a possibility the catalyst would overload, shattering under the strain. It would be destroyed. But did it matter? It was already failing. Between a dying tree and human lives, the choice was simple. Yet... why did this doubt remain? It wasn't logical, and it wasn't useful. Was this an error, manifesting now? I needed to finish before it gained traction.

I forced my finger down.

The codecast activated.

My prana ignited the fuse, coursing through the trail of salt until it formed a luminous fence encircling the tree. The energy climbed the bark like veins coming alive, flooding the entire tree with a brilliant green glow. Then, it pulsed—an unmistakable heartbeat—forcefully reigniting the bounded field. The ground trembled beneath my feet, a low rumble vibrating through the earth as the codecast funneled more and more prana into the tree.

The light intensified, radiating brighter and brighter until the tree resembled a blazing beacon, almost too blinding to look at. The pulse came again, stronger this time, rippling outward. It swept past me, washing over Tyson and the satyr like a tidal wave. We all felt it, the unmistakable presence of the bounded field spreading, growing, reclaiming the camp inch by inch. It was working. The bounded field would soon encompass the entire camp, reaching its furthest corners. Those not whitelisted would be expelled without exception. The calculations had held true—until.

One of its branches erupted in a blinding explosion, prana spilling out like a crack in a dam.

"Thalia!" The phantasmal screamed.

Another branch shattered, sending glowing fragments into the air. The tree's brilliance intensified, blazing like a second sun. It's draining too much from my reserves, there was nothing monitoring the influx of prana. Too much for the tree to handle.

I scrambled to reactivate my terminal, fingers flying over the holographic keyboard. Override after override, I pushed corrections into the codecast, but the tree ignited, its pines flaring into white sparks. The ground around it blackened, cracks snaking out like a fractured mirror. One split the earth beneath the tree, ripping through its bark. I could feel chunks and chunks of prana flowing out of me.

I had seconds. Maybe less.

"Thalia! No! Please! Stop! Thalia!" The satyr's voice broke, his desperation a knife cutting through the chaos. Tyson released him instinctively, the goat phantasmal dragging himself toward the tree on trembling arms.

I almost had it. One more adjustment, and I could stabilize—

But the ground beneath me detonated, the shockwave flinging me like a rag doll. I collided with Tyson's broad chest, his arms catching me mid-air just before we hit the scorched earth.

It's too late now.

The whistle came first, sharp and rising, piercing through the growing cacophony. The tree zinged, pulsing faster and faster, each beat a countdown to catastrophe. With the overload reaching critical mass, the prana would detonate in a violent burst.

gain_con(128); gain_luck(32);

I stacked codecast after codecast around us, shields layered over shields. We couldn't outrun it. Tyson held me tight, his massive hands trembling as the air itself began to hum with tension. And through it all, I saw him—the phantasmal, crawling, inching toward the tree.

"What are you doing? Get over here!" I screamed, my voice cutting through the charged air.

"Thalia…" He whispered, delirium overtaking him. I've put too much fatigue on his body. "I'm sorry… I couldn't be there. But it's ok. You won't be alone this time."

"Grover Underwood!" I roared, panic tightening around my chest. He didn't turn, he just kept going.

"Thalia…" His voice broke as tears streaked his dirt-stained face.

"Tyson!" I barked.

Tyson reacted instantly, launching forward with all his strength, his massive body a blur. He reached the boy just as the tree—everything went white.

add_revive();

I spat out ash, grimacing at the taste as it clung to my tongue. Everything hurt. My body felt like one giant bruise, screaming at me to stop moving, but I couldn't stay down. Wiping dirt from my face, I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision. It was no use—everything was blurred, and a shrill ringing drowned out the world around me.

Took some major damage. Maybe more, at least it wasn't critical. Without the codecast's, it could've been alot worse.

The air was thick with dust and debris, swirling around me like a suffocating fog. Particles clung to my skin and hair, turning every breath into a struggle. The ground beneath me looked like overcooked meat, cracked and charred. My vision swam, unsteady, and I had no idea where I was.

Tyson. He was alive—I could feel him through our bond. But where?

I tried to stand, clutching my left arm as a sharp jolt of pain shot through it. My clothes were shredded, blackened by soot and heat. Every step was a battle, and before I could even take a second, my knees buckled, and I hit the ground again.

Pain felt... different now. It wasn't just a signal, a cold warning that something was wrong with my body. Before, I could compartmentalize it, push it aside like background noise. But now? Now it was loud, overwhelming, clawing at my focus. It wasn't just distracting—it was everything. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I needed it to stop.

Gritting my teeth, I reached for a codecast. I needed to stabilize myself. My reserves were shot; the ritual had drained me completely. I had nothing left to pull from.

Except…

The professor's gift. My core, Hermes —a spiritron computer, a crowning achievement of mankind. Something that should have been impossible even for Atlas. If I could just tap into it, push a little further…

/Error!$1? ...

"Whaa—!" The scream tore out of me. What was that?!

My whole body jerked, every nerve on fire. Limbs trembled violently, strength draining away faster than I could comprehend.

I didn't understand. I should still have enough health to remain operational. My systems should compensate, stabilize me, keep me upright. But they didn't. Why do I feel this way? What is this… suffocating weight crushing my chest? What is—Oh. I remember now. This is fear. I keep forgetting. It's distorting my link to Hermes .

I need to calm my mind, but that's easier said than done. The trauma is still fresh; near-death experiences tend to linger like that. Near death, yeah, that's what—no… it wasn't.

This is bad. Very bad. I need to regroup, rethink my strategies. But first.

"Ta-Tyson," I hissed through gritted teeth. Closing my eyes, I searched for him through our link. He was north, just a few paces away. I forced my legs to move, each step a battle against the pain. With each step came a sickening crunch, the brittle remains of the earth breaking underfoot. The smell of soot and charred wood hung heavy in the air, choking my lungs.

"Tyson. Ty–" My voice broke as I spotted him, face down on the ground. Fear shot through me like a jolt of lightning, propelling me forward. I dropped to my knees, hands trembling as I reached for his back. Relief washed over me when I felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He was only unconscious. The codecasts, combined with his natural resistances, had shielded him. Even with his shirt reduced to charred tatters, his skin remained untouched—no burns, no injuries.

I don't have enough prana left for another codecast. But Tyson is bound by a geis contract, an ancient binding taught to me by the Professor. Magecraft from the Age of Gods—stronger than the seals on Tartarus. I didn't need prana; I just needed a command.

"Tyson, by our contract, I command you..."

"Wake up!" I slapped the back of his head.

Tyson groaned again, his voice groggy but familiar. "Uh…? Rae?" He stirred, his body rising from the scorched earth like someone waking from a nap. Dirt flaked from his torso as he sat up, shaking it off absentmindedly. His lazy expression lingered until his one good eye locked onto me. A familiar warmth spread through his smile.

"Rae!" Before I could react, he pulled me into a tight hug. My body screamed in pain, but I bit down on the groan threatening to escape. I didn't want to ruin his moment of joy.

"Rae! You alright?"

"Affirmative." My voice was steady, but my mind was racing. I looked around, scanning the aftermath of the explosion. There was no sign of the phantasmal. "Where is Grover Underwood?"

"Hmm?" Tyson tilted his head, his excitement dimming as confusion clouded his expression.

"The boy with the goatee… the satyr… the bunny."

"Oh! Bunny!" Tyson perked up, his good eye darting around as he scanned the area. Despite having only one eye, he had the vision of a hawk. When he found nothing, he sniffed the air like a hound. A frown settled on his face. "Nope. Not here."

My heart sank. Obliterated? No, he couldn't be. I would've sensed it if he had been… wouldn't I? He's alive. He has to be. I have to make this right.

I started to squirm in Tyson's hold, silently urging him to let go. He released me, his gaze heavy with concern, but I couldn't meet it. My thoughts were spiraling.

This was a disaster. The worst-case scenario. No, I corrected myself. The worst-case scenario would be all of us dead. This ranked third on the probability scale: incapacitated, injured, and stranded in the middle of an invasion. And worst of all, we didn't even complete our objective. The explosion had likely drawn attention. By now, the enemy would be mobilizing, heading straight for us.

"Tyson, the mission has failed. We have to find him and regroup with Saber. Hurry, you're the only one who can—errk!" My words caught in my throat as my knees buckled, sending me collapsing to the ground. My hand clutched my chest, the pounding in my heart beyond normal parameters. This wasn't just exhaustion or an internal injury; it was something deeper, something wrong. What was this ache searing through me, inflaming my circuits like a wildfire?

I need a diagnostic. I tried to connect with Hermes then.

/Err0r%_31Error#1124…Err-or

Suddenly, my body began to glitch, flickering in and out of reality like a faulty projection. The spiritrons composing my form were unraveling, breaking down faster than I could react.

"Raahh!" I severed the connection. My body steadied, the glitching subsided, but the ache remained—a suffocating weight. I stared at my trembling hands as tiny streams of data—glowing, fragmented strands—slowly knitted themselves back into me.

This wasn't just emotional interference. The ritual must've done more damage than I anticipated. It must have triggered the errors lurking in my systems. My spiritrons were destabilizing. If this continued, I wouldn't be able to maintain my ego.

And then I would…

That thought froze me, an icy spike of terror piercing through my core. The realization struck deeper than any fear of death. No, what awaited me wasn't death—it was far worse. I would lose myself. I'd devolve into a monster, a mindless beast of errors, lashing out at anything and everything it sees. My identity, my ego, everything I had worked so hard to build—it would all be stripped away, consumed by the chaos of errors within me.

Professor….

"Tyson…" My voice cracked, softer this time. "You have to find him. Now."

His eye filled with concern. "Rae, you're hurt."

"Go. By our contract, I command you! And don't come back until you find him!" I yelled, my voice sharper than I intended. Tyson flinched, his body moving against his will. He tried to resist, struggling to wrestle control, but the geis overpowered him. His resistance crumbled in an instant, and a pitiful whimper escaped his lips before he turned and sprinted off.

"Tyson… I'm sorry," I whispered, the words barely audible. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

But first.

I pushed myself up from the dirt, every movement a battle against the searing ache coursing through me. My legs wobbled, but I refused to fall again. I had to go back—to the tree. It might still hold some residual prana, and I needed every bit I could get. I kept limping forward, each step heavier than the last. When the dust and smoke finally began to clear, I saw the tree—or at least, what was left of it.

Most of its branches were gone, stripped away in the blast. Its leaves had been obliterated, leaving behind nothing but jagged remnants. The trunk, once proud and straight, was now crooked, leaning precariously to the left. Its wood had turned a charred black, and tiny embers floated from what remained, carried by the faint breeze.

I stopped and stared, my breath hitching. I had been so certain it would be reduced to ash, completely obliterated by the sheer amount of prana unleashed. Yet here it stood—damaged, broken, but standing. I guess some of it was. Divine constructs are made of tougher stuff. But now it's beyond repair, no use as the catalyst for the bounded field

If it's still here, that must mean some prana has survived. I could still salvage what's left, regain a fraction of what I lost before Tyson returns with the phantasmal. Step by painful step, I inched closer to the tree. The air around it still shimmered faintly with residual energy, barely perceptible but there.

As I approached, an intrusive thought clawed its way into my mind: I really am like my father now. Or rather, Rachel's father. Or… mine? The dichotomy of what I am still eludes me. Theoretically, it should be possible, but the energy required—as well as the precision—would be monstrous. To combine two distinct sets of spiritrons and fuse them together… you wouldn't get a person. You'd get a twisted, mutated invalid, an abomination with no identity or purpose.

Not even the professor would entertain the thought. Whoever would… they'd have to be equally monstrous.

That would describe her, wouldn't it? The one who ignited this war, who unleashed this horror. The one who put me in this body—or her in mine. If I had to choose between the two… I'd rather be the stronger one. Someone who can act, who can fight, who can change something. Not just stand there, powerless, while the world burns. I want to do more. I need to do more. I'd rather be…

I'm sorry, Rachel. I just can't be that girl anymore.

I reached out and touched the tree, my fingers brushing against its charred surface. Then I felt it—a spark of life, faint but unmistakable. It was still alive, even after everything. I tapped into its core and found traces of prana left, not enough to restore me to full capacity, but just enough to stop the errors ravaging my systems. If I took all of it, the tree would finally die—it was already beyond saving. The action was simple: drain it completely. Efficient. Logical.

And yet… I hesitated.

Every time I tried, I saw his tears, heard his screams. The me from before wouldn't have cared. This wouldn't even be a choice. But now...

My hands clawed against the scorched wood, my fingers trembling as they dug into its brittle surface. I've already done so much wrong—what's one more? This could be another mistake, another regret, but if I don't do this, I won't survive. I'll still be that same girl stuck in the shadows. Powerless. Watching as others make decisions for me, as they take away my agency, my choices, my future.

No. I will not be that. Never again.

"I'm sorry, Grover," I whispered.

I forcefully hacked into the tree, taking away code into my own. The tree began to wither, its last remnants of vitality slipping into me. Strength returned to my limbs. The errors faded. The ache that consumed me vanished like smoke in the wind. But the guilt remained, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

"I'll make it up to him," I murmured, clutching the faint pulse of new life within me. "I promise."

A huge crack splintered around my hands as the tree strained under the weight of my actions. It was almost there now, its core depleted, its life slipping away. My hand trailed against the bark. I couldn't help but think of him—the way he spoke to this tree like it was a person, like it mattered beyond its purpose.

If that's the case, then... if it has to die, let it die in comfort.

"It's okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Just let go. It's okay, I'm here. Just let go."

I spoke as softly as I could, letting the words linger in the stillness. The tree trembled under my touch, shuddering like a living thing before finally falling still. Its spark dimmed, growing smaller and smaller until—

"Enough of that," a voice cut through the silence.

Before I could turn, something struck me hard. I felt the force ripple through my body, sending me flying. I hit the ground, skidding across the dirt, and came to a stop with a sharp gasp. The world spun as I tried to focus, but all I could make out was a figure standing where I had just been.

"Tch. Tch. The arrogance of this doll," the voice sneered, each word dripping with disdain, slurring ever so slightly as though savoring its own venom.

I turned my glare to the source and saw him—a boy, older than me, with haunting blue eyes that gleamed with an unsettling light. He stood tall in ornate golden armor, the kind that spoke of status and vanity rather than practicality. Draped across his shoulder was a large purple toga, the fabric shimmering faintly, hinting at something more than mere cloth.

But it wasn't his appearance that unsettled me—it was his smile. That grin reminded me of the worst kinds of people in my father's circle, the ones who played at civility with hollow laughter and false charm, all to hide their darker, sick ambitions.

"Who are you?" I managed, rising slowly, keeping my eyes locked on him. My circuits flickered faintly, the residual prana from the tree coursing through me, but I knew I wasn't at full strength yet.

The boy tilted his head slightly, as though amused by my defiance. "Who am I?" he echoed, his tone mocking. "A better question would be, what are you? But perhaps you're too broken to contemplate that."

"What—" I started, but a loud, deep ribbit cut me off.

I turned my gaze to the source, and what I saw left me momentarily breathless. Three massive, frog-like phantasmals surrounded the boy, their vibrant red skin gleaming like wet paint under the dim light. Each carried a weapon: one brandished chipped axes, another gripped a morningstar, and the last, inexplicably, held a rusted stop sign.

But what truly ignited the fear in my chest was the giant cyclops standing behind them. Its gray, leathery skin stretched over a hulking frame, its crooked teeth bared in a wicked grin. Unlike Tyson, this one was no ally. It wore nothing but a fur loincloth, a massive club resting in its hands. The sheer savagery it radiated sent shivers down my spine. Its eyes burned with a primal hunger, and I felt my pulse quicken under its gaze.

"Or perhaps the stars didn't predict these events? I assure you, not all of us are as blind as you," the boy said, his voice dripping with smugness.

His words stung more than they should have, cutting far deeper than mere mockery. Doll. Short-circuit. Stars. Those weren't random jabs; they were deliberate, aimed right at me.

But how? How did he know?

I swallowed hard, my mind spinning as I struggled to piece it all together. His confidence, the way he spoke, the phantasmals at his side—it was clear. He knew. About me. But how? I'd been careful. Only a handful of people should have that knowledge. So why reveal it? Intimidation? Maybe. It fit the pattern. He knew everything about me, while I knew nothing about him. A calculated move. Or perhaps it wasn't the whole truth—just enough to rattle me.

I clenched my fists, anger and unease bubbling beneath the surface. "Who... no. What are you?" I demanded. Now that I could sense him, his prana levels weren't normal. They weren't human. They were almost on par with a Servant's

His grin widened, and I could sense his amusement growing. "No, no. That's not how we play this game," he said smoothly, waving a hand. "An answer for a question."

"What—" I started, but his mocking laugh cut me off like a blade.

"Is the doll short-circuiting?" he taunted, his eyes alight with cruel delight. He gestured toward me lazily, as though I were some malfunctioning toy. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the cyclops took a step forward, its massive club scraping against the ground. Each heavy thud of its footsteps made my knees tremble. "Perhaps we need to replace its batteries," the boy added, his tone mockingly sweet.

I froze, every instinct screaming at me to run. I quickly calculated my odds if I fought now. Probability: below twenty percent. Not good.

"Do you want to play the game," he sneered, "or should we skip to the fun part?"

"Alright!" I shouted, cutting through the suffocating tension. The boy clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed, but with a wave of his hand, the cyclops grumbled and stepped back, its predatory gaze never leaving me.

"I think I'll be sporting and let the doll go first," the boy said with a smirk.

"I'm not a doll," I retorted, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice.

His smirk widened. "That's your question? Fine. You're not a doll. You're worse—a human who wants to be a doll. How pathetic is that?" He laughed, a sharp, biting sound that echoed in the air. When his lackeys didn't immediately join in, he snapped his fingers, and they erupted into forced, awkward giggles.

"My turn. Does the doll not realize what it's about to do?"

What kind of question was that?!

"What are you talking about?" I seethed, my voice rising.

"A question for a question? That's not how we play." He waved his hand, and the cyclops started to move again.

"Wait! I was—uh…" What does he want me to say?! My mind scrambled for escape routes, then I spotted the tree. "I was siphoning prana from the catalysis?"

The boy snapped his fingers sideways, and the cyclops stopped in its tracks.

"But why does that matter!?" I shouted, my voice sharp with anger. Only then did I realize I'd just wasted a question.

"Because you were about to murder that girl."

Murder… What? A cold shiver ran up my spine.

"Wha—" I slapped my hand over my mouth before I could say anything more. I glared at him, knowing he was waiting for that slip-up.

"How did it feel when you burned her alive? When you sucked the life out of her? Did you enjoy it, or were you as soulless as the rest of your kind?"

My anger flared. What was this sicko talking about?

"I never hurt anyone," I said, my voice steady, but the doubt creeping in made it harder to believe.

The boy's eyes lit up, and his grin widened, more genuine now.

"I see. Doll, tell me, what's that?" He pointed to the tree.

"A divine construct, the core of the bounded field," I replied through gritted teeth, trying to hold my ground.

"No." His voice was cold, sending a shiver down my spine. Was this some kind of mental magecraft? Were my senses compromised?

"That's a human."

My mind went blank. That's a lie . It has to be.

"You really didn't know?" he said, his laughter rising. "Ha. Ha, hahaha! I shouldn't have stopped you. Your despair would've been so much greater."

That. That… That can't be right. It's powerful but it couldn't be a… He's lying , he has to be!

"My turn again. Why didn't you hesitate? Was it that intoxicating, wasn't it? Hurting others gives you a rush? Is this who you've become—a monster who revels in the same torment you once suffered?"

Stop.

"Or maybe that's all you've ever been. Is that why you didn't flinch when you went for the kill? Was it because they were nothing to you? Just tools to be used and discarded when they outlived their usefulness, broken toys?"

Stop.

"You never cared, did you? You never even tried. You take and take and take, draining everything and everyone around you. It's who you are. It's who you've always been—a parasite masquerading as a person."

Enough!

"You know what they say, Dare. The rot doesn't fall far from the tree. You're just like him—a user, a liar, and a coward. Your father would be proud."

"Stop it!" I screamed, my arm lashing out as my heart thundered in my chest. The codecast erupted from me, raw and unrestrained.

shock(128);

The air around the boy seemed to collapse in on itself. He barely flinched, letting out a bored yawn before a massive surge of lightning erupted where he had stood. The blast was like a wave of fury, a column of sparks rising higher than any building, scorching the earth beneath it. The sound was deafening, like a thousand birds screeching in unison, and the force of the strike sent wind and ash scattering in all directions. When the storm of electricity finally began to subside, all that remained was a blackened scar on the ground and grass smoking from the heat.

I stood there, breathless. That... it took nearly half of what I had left. Why did I–

"Ack!" A hand shot out from behind, wrapping around my throat, squeezing the air out of me.

"Was that the best Atlas has to offer?" His voice was low, sneering, hot breath against my ear. "Pathetic."

Before I could react, he tossed me aside like I was nothing. I crashed into the ruined remains of the tree, the impact splintering what few branches were left. Pain shot through my back, and I gasped, my throat raw. My fingers pressed against it, but the pressure wouldn't let up. The world spun, and I couldn't even muster the strength to fight back.

"I guess the game's over. Way to ruin my fun."

I could barely hear him through the constant coughing, struggling just to breathe, let alone respond.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag now. That thing behind you? It was once a human. A child of Jupiter, or his equivalent. It was through her sacrifice that she protected this camp from danger. Heroic, isn't it? Even now, she resists us, stopping us from taking full control of the leyline." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, his voice dripping with mockery. "That was until you killed her—or, well, might as well have. You know, I can still feel her presence. She's still trying to save you."

I could hardly wrap my mind around what he was saying. Every word felt like a punch, each one stripping away the certainty I thought I had.

"Would you have done the same?"

I… How could I? Why didn't I see it. The stars said… No. No. It can't be. Despair, outrage, guilt most of all. I ignored all the signs, selfish, arrogant, just like... Grover, Saber, Tyson….. Thalia, I'm sorry. I've doomed everyone. I couldn't stop the tears from escaping.

"Oh well," he said with a dismissive shrug, "I think I've squeezed all the entertainment I can from the doll. There's only so much fun to be had." His eyes glinted with greed as his tone shifted. "Now, for our true prize. Leaving behind a child of Jupiter would be unthinkable."

He turned sharply, barking orders with chilling authority. "Servi, uproot the tree—it is our Holy Grail. Our king will reward us beyond measure!" As if on cue, the monsters stepped forward, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. The cyclops, drooling hungrily, never once took his eyes off me.

No. "I won't let you!" I trembled as I stood, shielding the tree against my small body. This is futile, my percentage of survival is below five percent, and even then I'm stretching the numbers. I should cut my losses and run, they're not after me. But, I don't think I could forgive myself, not after what I've done. I really will be that useless girl if I ran now.

"Is the doll trying to act human again? Newsflash, too late, idiot." He smirked, forming a mock gun with his fingers and aiming at the tree, directly at me. "Bang."

Then all at once the monsters surged. The first one lunged forward, shrieking—a grotesque, amphibian creature wielding a spiked morningstar. It leapt into the air, ready to cave my skull in. My vision was still disorientating from earlier, still I shakily maneuvered my hand and prayed it hit.

shock(23);

The creature detonated in a sickening spray of orange viscera, its remains splattering the ground like rancid paint. But I could sense more closing in, their snarls and heavy footsteps pounding in my ears. To my left, the other frog hurled its axe with terrifying speed. Calculations screamed in my mind: Duck .

I dropped just in time, the axe whistling over my head and embedding itself into the tree with a thunderous crack, leaving a jagged dent in the bark.

"No, you fools!" the boy's voice cut through the chaos.

Not good. We both needed the tree intact, but I was running on fumes. My prana reserves were dangerously low—too low to shield myself or stop them outright. The answer came instantly, a route forming in my mind. Even battered, my computational power far surpassed any computer made by man. It was risky but if I'm right then… I had less than ten femtoseconds.

I bolted between the frog-like creatures, their bulbous eyes widening in surprise. They wouldn't stay stunned for long. One swung its remaining axe at me. There! I dropped into a slide, the axe sailing harmlessly over my head.

As I shot past, I reached out and grabbed its slimy neck. The moment our skin touched, I unleashed a codecast.

shock(7);

Its skin shriveled, muscles collapsed, and in seconds, it was nothing more than a desiccated husk, crumpled and lifeless like dried roadkill. My hypothesis was right, these were mass produced mobs, I didn't need to expend so much prana, if I had my full strength they wouldn't be an afterthought.

Still two down. Two more to go.

The cyclops roared, shaking the ground beneath my feet. Of course, the frogs were just distractions. This beast was the real threat. Its massive club swung low, tearing through the earth and flinging chunks of dirt and debris in my direction.

That didn't faze me. I'd already calculated its movements, and if it fought anything like Tyson… no, Tyson was far more complex than this mindless brute. This thing was a mere animal, predictable.

I raised my arm.

release_mgi(c);

A fragment of shimmering data shot from my fingertips, striking the cyclops square in the chest. Its massive frame locked up, muscles seizing as arcs of electricity surged through its body. It froze mid-roar, its grotesque features twisted in confusion and rage. I had ten seconds—no more, no less.

My focus snapped to the last frog. It screeched, flinching as I aimed at it.

shock(10);

The blast hit like a lightning strike, sending the creature sprawling backward. Its weapon—a stop sign torn crudely from the street—clattered to the ground beside it. I sprinted forward, counting the seconds in my head. The sign was heavier than my calculations had estimated, but it didn't matter. I didn't need the whole thing, just the jagged point at the bottom.

Gripping the pole tightly, I angled it like a javelin, my mind running through trajectories and probabilities in microseconds. My eyes locked on the cyclops—still frozen but rapidly nearing the end of its paralysis. Two seconds left. That was enough. I didn't need to bring it down completely. No, I just needed its eye. If I could blind it, my chances of survival would spike by forty percent.

gain_str(16);

I casted a codecast on myself, a rush of power electrifying my muscles. My grip tightened instinctively, too hard—I felt the metal bend and groan under my fingers, leaving deep dents in the shaft.

One shot.

I threw just as the codecast ended, I hurled the makeshift spear with all the enhanced strength I could muster. The cyclops's eye widened, its massive pupil locking onto the projectile streaking toward it like a missile.

Then, without warning, the spear exploded mid-flight.

Shards of twisted metal rained down uselessly, clattering to the ground. My mind raced to process what had happened.

What!?

I snapped my gaze toward the source of the blast. There he was—the boy, standing smugly with his finger gun aimed squarely at us. Wisps of smoke curled from the tip of his finger.

"Nice try," he sneered. "But you didn't think I'd let you have that, did you?"

I heard a loud stomp then my entire being was pain. I flew in the air before skidding on the dirt, my body made a long mark in the landscape. When I finally stopped, all I knew was agony. Diagnostic: multiple fractures, broken ribs, possible internal injuries, brain damage. I tried to stand but my legs refused to listen, motor abilities compromised. Most of the damage was on my left side, I could feel anything from my left arm. I try to compartmentalize the pain but there's only so much I can do.

Then something pulled my hair, I screamed as I was dragged across the dirt. The cyclop was bringing me back to the tree.

"Did we finally break the doll? Hmmm, looks pretty broken." He grabbed my cheeks roughly, forcing my head up so I couldn't look away from his eyes, there was something swimming in his blues. "No, there's still some fire left," he murmured, his grin widening. "But don't worry, when it comes to breaking toys, I'm an expert."

He leveled his finger gun at my forehead.

Contact detected. Commencing codecast.

hack_atk(32);

The explosion was instantaneous, the boy's malicious grin turned into a scream of raw agony as he was thrown backward. I took my chance and reached up and grabbed the fingers tangled in my hair.

add_blindness();

The monster shrieked as my codecast took hold, it let go of my hair, touching its face in a blind panic. It stumbled back, clawing at its eyes, trying to process what had just happened. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the cyclops's club as it came crashing down. The ground exploded under the impact, sending debris and dirt flying in every direction.

The force of the blow knocked me off balance, my battered body barely holding together. When I landed, my legs refused to cooperate. Crawling was my only option. I dragged myself through the chaos, inch by agonizing inch, as the cyclops roared and smashed everything in sight. It had lost all sense of purpose, its rampage indiscriminate.

"No! You stupid slave! Stop!" the boy screamed. His command fell on deaf ears.

By sheer chance—or cruel fate—its club connected with the tree. The impact was devastating, splintering the pine and tearing off its entire top half.

No!

Panic seized me as I raised my trembling arm, aiming at the rampaging beast. My reserves were almost depleted—this had to count.

shock(10);

The codecast shot out, striking its shoulder. A flicker of electricity crackled across the beast's hide, but it barely flinched. Its skin was too thick. Nothing short of my strongest codecast could stop it, and I didn't have the prana left for that. My teeth clenched so hard it felt like they might shatter. Desperation churned in my chest, a roiling, acidic burn that threatened to swallow me whole. Everything is slipping away from me, yet again.

I clawed at the dirt beneath me as the reality of it sunk in. Helplessness. Uselessness. In a few minutes, it would turn its rage back to her. And this time, it would hit her again. She wouldn't survive.

No. I can't let this happen.

I forced my body to still, shaking off the fear that clung to me. I have to make this right. There's still something I can do.

I once told Saber I was prepared for anything. Anything—including this. My instructions should be enough to guide him. He doesn't need me anymore. Tyson… Tyson would be sad, but I'd made sure he would be cared for. He'd want for nothing. And finally, finally, he'd be free.

"My life," I whispered to myself, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart. Why do humans do this? Or is it just me?

I pushed myself upright, my body screaming in protest.

"Hey, ugly! Over here!" I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I was about to give up.

The cyclops froze mid-rampage, its monstrous senses snapping toward me. Though blind its single, hateful eye locked onto my form. They wanted Thalia alive, not pulverized into pieces. As long as she was still alive, there would still be a chance.

The ground shook beneath me, each of the cyclops's thunderous footsteps pounding in my ears like a death knell. Morning bells, I thought idly. It's funny what the human mind fixates on when death looms so close.

They don't need me. They never did. I was just a girl lucky to exist in their world.

I could hear the faint screech of its club dragging across the dirt, the sound grating against my nerves.

No one will mourn me. Rachel Elizabeth Dare didn't have anyone and Rani was a secret only known too….

I look on high, the stars are still there, they tell me things. Even now they whisper secrets in my ear, but I'm too tired to care. I didn't need my sight for this future. The cyclops's aim was unerring. I see it raising its club high above its head, ready to strike me down.

Professor, I'm sorry. I'll meet you so soon.

But at least, even for a fleeting moment, I'd known what it was like to be human. I was useless after all, wasn't I? I couldn't even muster the strength to put on a brave face.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and bitter against the cold inevitability of it all.

I heard the swing before I felt it.

And then the truth spilled out of me.

"I don't want to die."

For a mere fraction of a second, I saw it—a light. The stars were shouting at me, not in whispers but in cries, demanding my attention. They painted futures that must happen, a story already written, a play that would unfold whether I wanted it or not. I still have a job to do. I can't die here. Not yet.

But the truth remained: I will die—just not here.

"Not until I say so!" The monster's voice echoes through me.

HERMES recognized user: Eltnam Rani No. 8.

Time slowed to a stop and everything blurred. It was a maelstrom of noise: incoherent yelling, guttural roars, grunts, explosions, swearing—a cacophony that blended into a chaotic mess. Yet, through it all, one voice pierced the noise.

A voice so soft, so familiar, it silenced the storm in my mind.

"Rae." That single word melted my fear. My tears, once bitter, turned into something else. Relief.

"Yu-you're finally back," I muttered, feeling his hands gently wrap around me.

"Rae, you hurt?" His voice was full of concern, warm and soothing, like he always was.

"Nothing I can't handle," I said, leaning my head against his shoulder. He was always so warm.

"Rae, sorry me late."

"No, I shouldn't have sent you away."

"Rae, bad cyclop hurt you?"

I answered with a long pause. "...Yes. But it was my fault. I was careless."

"Careless? But you smart. Never."

I chuckled weakly, the sound fragile but genuine. "I'm just having an off day. Nothing is going right, and everything that could go wrong… did."

"But... you fix it?"

"I'm trying," I whispered. "Tyson, I did a bad thing. To Grover and his friend. I want to make it right."

"Just say sorry?" His innocence was disarming.

"I wish it were that simple. No… what I did was so bad, one sorry won't be enough."

"Then say a million sorrys. Or do one big sorry."

"A… big sorry?"

"Yeah. A sorry but very loud and very long. Like this: SSSSORRRRRYYYYYY!"

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out unexpectedly. "That's… that's actually a good idea."

"See? Me smart like Rae."

"No, Tyson. You're smarter than me," I said, still laughing.

"NO. Rae smarter!"

His earnestness sent me into a fit of giggles. Tyson started laughing too, his deep chuckles vibrating through his chest. For a moment, the chaos faded into the background, leaving only the two of us in our little bubble of peace. But the noise was still there—persistent, nagging, and impossible to ignore.

Tyson's laughter slowed, and his expression turned serious. "We beat bad guy now?"

I exhaled, the tension lifting just enough for me to feel steady again.

"...Yeah," I said, a small smirk forming on my face. "Let's kick his ass."

My legs were still useless, trembling like gelatin. Without a word, Tyson crouched down and hoisted me onto his back with surprising gentleness. I wrapped my arms tightly around his thick neck, feeling his warmth and strength beneath me.

"Ready?" I shouted over the noise, my voice trembling more from adrenaline than fear.

Tyson gave an eager nod, a grin spreading across his face. "Ready!"

"Remember what I taught you," I said firmly, trying to steady myself—and him. "Stay focused, always watch your back, and most importantly—"

"Don't let go." He completed me.

Hermes stopped and reality began to move.

Tyson intercepted the cyclops's club mid-swing, his massive fist slamming into the weapon with enough force to deflect it. The shockwave rippled down the enemy cyclops's arm, forcing it to stagger back. Without hesitation, Tyson followed up with a thunderous uppercut to its jaw, the impact sending reverberations through the air. He didn't stop there—he drove his knee into the beast's stomach, eliciting a guttural belch before delivering a devastating kick that sent the cyclops sprawling to the ground.

Our prana cycled through each other, each adding something to the union. Enhanced strength, senses, computation, reaction speed, reasoning, mental strength; like this we are the strongest we've ever been. I could stretch my senses farther than before, I could sense Grover, he was fighting the boy; wrestling him to the ground.

"A faun? What are-get off me!" The boy shrieked.

"Never!" Grover screamed.

Grover… No, not now, I'll do it after.

The downed cyclops let out a guttural roar, flexing its massive muscles as it pushed itself back to its feet. Its movements were quicker than its bulk suggested. With a deafening snarl, it leaped into the air, jaws spread wide enough to swallow Tyson's torso whole.

Get ready.

Calculations flooded my mind, faster than the cyclops could ever hope to move. Tyson and I were one, our shared focus aligning perfectly. Tyson adjusted his stance, angling his shoulders precisely forty-five degrees. To him, the world moved in slow motion, each fraction of a second stretching into eternity. He analyzed the cyclops with an uncanny clarity, his sharp eyes locking onto a faint, poorly healed injury at the back of its head—a weak point.

As the cyclops descended, Tyson shifted his weight, ducking just enough to let its jaws snap shut on empty air. He sidestepped around its massive frame with fluid precision, his fist already swinging. The strike landed squarely above the cervical spine, a calculated blow to its fragile weak point. The cyclops howled in agony, its enormous hands instinctively clutching the back of its neck as it stumbled forward.

"No! No!" the boy screamed from the sidelines, his finger raised up to unleash a spell before Grover tackled him to the ground.

The creature roared, swinging its massive club backward in a blind, desperate arc. But its moves were predictable—wild and unrefined. We ducked easily, sidestepping its furious strikes. Its single eye, blinded by the earlier codecast, darted uselessly, and its deafening bellows filled the air with rage and frustration.

Let's end this.

Tyson surged forward, grabbing the cyclops's wrist with one hand and slamming the club from its grasp with the other. Tyson seized its other wrist, locking both arms in an unyielding grip. I poured every drop of prana I had left into him. Together, we pushed forward, overpowering the cyclops as it thrashed and roared in defiance. The beast howled in pain, its movements growing more erratic as Tyson's iron grip began to crush its arms. Its single eye filled with tears. I felt Tyson's resolve waver. The whimpering cries of the creature tugged at him.

Tyson.

My voice cut through the haze, snapping him back to focus. I directed our attention to the creature's neck. Cyclopes don't die, not truly, like all phantasmal beings in this world, they will eventually reform, returning to roam the earth once more. Perhaps, in another time, it would return with a different purpose, a different heart. But here and now, it was an enemy.

Prana surged into Tyson's eye, the glow building into a blinding, crimson light.

call_beam(256);

The beam of light erupted from Tyson's eye, piercing through the cyclops's thick neck. The air hummed with energy as the laser seared through flesh and bone, cutting cleanly to the other side. For a moment, the cyclops froze, its body trembling. The light dissipated, leaving a gaping hole where its neck had once been. The beast's body began to dissolve, shimmering into golden particles that drifted upward like embers caught in the wind. Its form crumbled, collapsing to the ground in a heap of fading light.

And then, through the shimmering dust, it spoke—its voice ragged but free.

"Freeee at… Than-k you… Young–"

Then it was gone. The cyclops was nothing more than golden dust drifting into the breeze, and finally, the tension drained from my body. But so did everything else—strength, prana, even the will to stay upright. My arms slipped from Tyson's neck, and I crumpled to the ground.

"Rae!"

I couldn't move. My neck refused to cooperate, and standing was a distant dream. All I could do was lie there, my breath shallow and uneven. Tyson knelt beside me, his massive hands cradling me with surprising gentleness. His single eye scanned me, frantic, searching for injuries.

"Rae, it will be okay. Rae, okay?" His voice wavered, the usual childlike confidence in it replaced by worry.

"Ta-Tyson," I managed, though my voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm here, Rae. You're safe. Rae safe."

I tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a wheeze. "Is... Ha, is the tree okay?"

Tyson's eye widened, and he glanced toward the devastated clearing where the fight had taken place. His gaze lingered on the shattered remains of the tree, now little more than a jagged stump surrounded by debris.

"Ahhhhh…" he trailed off, scratching his head awkwardly.

I couldn't help but grin weakly at his expression. "Thought so…"

The boy managed to kick Grover off, stumbling to his feet. His helm had been knocked away, revealing disheveled blonde hair. His bloodshot eyes darted wildly, his breaths ragged and uneven.

"No… No, no, NO!" A scream tore through the chaos, cutting off our conversation.

Tyson and I both turned to the boy. He clawed at his own face, nails raking deep enough to draw blood. His voice cracked with desperation, teetering on the edge of something monstrous.

"I WILL NOT BE BEATEN BY A DOLL!" The boy's voice shifted, the human timbre giving way to something far darker, inching toward the demonic.

Tyson glared at him, huddling me closer.

"YOU WILL NOT STOP THIS REUNION! THE KING WILL HAVE HIS KIN!" The boy spat, his rage unhinged. His voice became a guttural snarl as he pointed a trembling finger at us. "THEN I WILL BREAK YOU PIECE BY PIECE AND STUFF YOU WITH AS MUCH—Oh, hahaha. What am I doing?"

Suddenly, he froze, his fury evaporating in an instant. His tone whiplashed into eerie calmness. The wild glare softened into something unsettlingly serene, his smile playful, almost childlike.

"If not today, then evenu—"

~WHAM!~

Grover tackled him again, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"I've got him!" the goat boy shouted triumphantly, pinning the other down with his weight.

The boy thrashed beneath him, snarling. "You dare strike the augur! You will regret this fau—ack!"

Grover's fist collided with his face, silencing him.

"Shut up!" Grover huffed, drawing back his fist for another strike.

"Grover."

I tried to stand but barely managed to lift my arm. Tyson noticed immediately. Without needing to be told, he carried me closer to the scuffle.

"Grover…" I reached out, gripping Tyson's arm for support as I tried to meet Grover's gaze. The goat boy paused mid-punch, turning to face me. His expression was unreadable—a mix of anger, exhaustion, and something else I couldn't place.

"Grover, I'm sorry. For everything. I made a mistake… and my arrogance led to this. If I had only listened to you, none of this would have happened. Words can't express how—"

"Shut up."

Grover's voice was low but sharp, cutting me off. His gaze locked onto mine, and the sheer intensity of his anger made me flinch. Yet, beneath the rage, I saw restraint. He was holding back.

"Don't apologize to me," he said, his tone laced with bitterness. "Do it to Thalia. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have come back at all. She told me… Ha. Never mind."

He stood up, looming over the boy still pinned beneath him.

"You're the real scumbag here," Grover said coldly, his eyes filled with disgust as he glared down at the boy.

"Brought low by a faun and a doll. How disgraceful." The boy spat, his voice dripping with contempt. His head lolled to the side, revealing a face battered and swollen, one eye now a deep black.

Grover's jaw clenched as he pressed his foot harder against the boy's chest, pinning him to the ground. "You," Grover growled, his voice shaking with fury. "Thalia said you were one of the leaders of the invasion." His foot ground down harder. "This is all your fault."

If looks could kill, Grover would have obliterated the boy a hundred times over. The rage in his eyes barely contained itself beneath a trembling veil of self-control.

"Invasion?" The boy let out a weak, mocking chuckle before wincing in pain. "Oh, no." He lazily wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes beginning to glow with an ominous, dark light. "This isn't an invasion…" He tilted his head back with a twisted grin. "This is the welcoming committee."

"Wha—" My words caught in my throat as a wave of dread crashed over me.

That presence. The same vile, suffocating presence that had shattered the bounded field before. It was coming.

A sickening feeling churned in my stomach, and I instinctively clung to Tyson. He must have sensed my distress because his arms tightened protectively around me.

"Rae?" Tyson's deep voice was laced with worry.

"It's coming," I whispered, unable to stop the words from spilling out. My gaze lifted to the sky. Even through the clouds, I could still see the stars shining faintly above.

"What? What's coming?" Grover demanded, his voice sharp with alarm.

"The robe of man," I murmured, the phrase tumbling out without understanding. My mind struggled to grasp its meaning, fragments of knowledge drifting down from the stars—answers I wasn't ready to comprehend.

The boy's smile twisted into something grotesque, his bruised face contorting with glee. He, too, looked to the heavens. "The stars are chatty today," he said, his tone sickly sweet. "Soon… very soon, fate will not be denied!"

Then it came—a roar so immense it shook the ground beneath us. The very air seemed to quiver with its power, and the earth groaned in response. Nature itself recoiled, trembling at the approaching beast.

My blood ran cold. I remember…

"The stars…" I breathed, the truth slamming into me like a bolt of lightning. "A beast born from a blighted star. Here to drown the land in black mud."

The roar grew louder, followed by the sound of colossal, unrelenting crunches crashing against the ground like a hurricane. Over the horizon, something loomed—a massive, undulating shadow that grew larger with each passing second.

From a distance, it appeared as a black hill, rising and writhing as it approached. Its form slithered and twisted, spreading across the earth like a living plague. Everywhere it touched, the greenery shriveled and died, the vibrant land fading into a lifeless, blackened void. The poison seeped into the world itself, corrupting it with every inch the creature claimed.

"By the gods…" Grover whispered, his voice trembling. "What is that?"

In no time, it was upon us. A giant black serpent, taller than a house. Its three heads towered high, hiding us in its shadow. Black mud oozed from its scaled skin, dripping to the ground like molten magma. Wherever the foul substance landed, it erupted into crimson flames, setting the earth ablaze and consuming everything in its wake.

Now, face to face with the monstrosity, I could feel the truth of its existence pressing against my mind. It wasn't merely a beast—it was an embodiment of curses. Curses so dense and numerous they became a life of their own, like a huge colonial organism.

"It's here…" The boy's voice broke through the suffocating silence, low and reverent, as if he were addressing a god. His battered face split into a crooked smile. "Did you have fun with your food?" he asked, his tone almost playful as he spoke to the serpent.

My gaze drifted to the middle head. In its massive jaws hung a man, limp and bloodied. The man's body was covered with hundreds of eyes—eyes that wept streams of crimson tears. He dangled from the beast's mouth like the discarded scraps of a meal, his lifeless form swaying gently with each breath of the serpent.

"A-Argus?" Grover's voice cracked with disbelief.

Then, before we could act, before we could even scream, the middle head tipped back. The jaws opened wider, and with a single, fluid motion, it swallowed the man whole. The sound was deafening—a sickening gulp that echoed through the scorched landscape. We watched in horrified silence as the bulge of Argus's body traveled down the creature's neck, disappearing into its enormous form. Tyson was whimpering, I had to soothe him to calm his shakes.

"Behold the Robe of Man," the boy proclaimed with unsettling pride. "Our king's gift for his newest vassal."

"What are you talking about!? What is that ?" Grover's voice cracked, his grief and terror fueling his rage. He pressed his foot harder against the boy's chest, but his captive didn't even flinch, as if he were oblivious to the pain.

"Are you deaf as well as blind? I just told you— the robe of man ." The boy winced theatrically, his lip curling into a smirk. "If you press any harder, you'll bruise my love handles."

"Talk! Or I'll—"

A sharp hiss from the beast cut through Grover's threat, freezing all of us in place. It circled slowly around us, its massive heads moving like synchronized predators. Each of its six glowing eyes bore into us, scrutinizing every detail. My breath hitched as I realized it wasn't just observing us—it was deciding who to devour first.

Then, without warning, all three heads turned in unison, focusing on what remained of Thalia.

My heart seized in my chest.

"Wait! Don't!" The words tumbled out of my mouth in a panic. "I—uh—she's too burnt for you! She'll taste terrible!"

The absurdity of my plea hit me immediately, but I couldn't stop myself. Fear was clouding my thoughts, scattering reason like leaves in a storm. What was I thinking? Why would it listen to me? Nothing was stopping it from eating us first and going after Thalia later.

To my shock, the boy beneath Grover let out a faint chuckle. "The doll's right," he said casually, as if he were discussing the weather. "She's too weak now. She'll be in the king's hands soon enough. For now, you're someone else's gift." His smile widened into something grotesque. "Go. You shouldn't keep him waiting."

The serpent blinked slowly, tilting its massive heads as if considering the boy's words. Then, without another sound, it turned and slithered away, its immense body dragging across the earth with a low, ominous rumble. Fires erupted in its wake, the black mud it left behind igniting everything it touched.

I felt no relief as it disappeared into the distance. The pit in my stomach only grew, the weight of dread sinking deeper.

"Why? Why would it leave?" I whispered, the words trembling on my lips. My voice sounded foreign, hollow. I didn't need the stars to see this future. Something far worse was coming.

All the while, the boy beneath Grover's foot kept chuckling, his cavalier attitude unnerving in the face of his situation. Bruised and pinned, he still acted as though he were in control.

"Why are you laughing!?" Grover growled, pressing down harder with his foot.

"Oh... you Greeks are something else ," the boy replied, his smirk widening.

"What was that thing!?"

"I've already told you," the boy said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "The Robe of Man—ack!"

" Talk . What. Does. That. Mean ?" Grover spat, enunciating each word with venom.

The boy tilted his head slightly, an expression of mock pity on his face. "Even if I did, I doubt you'd understand with your puny faun brain."

Grover's arm trembled as he raised his fist. Whether it was from rage, fear, or a toxic mixture of both, I couldn't tell.

"Wait," I said, my voice cutting through the tension. "I think–" He proceeds to punch his face again. "I-ah. I think I can extract the information from him, I just need contact with his head."

Grover's glare shifted to me, cold and sharp. The anger in his eyes hadn't faded—he hadn't forgiven me. Not yet. And I couldn't blame him.

"No need, doll," The boy said sinisterly, his voice dropping to a whisper that felt heavier than any shout. "You already know the answer."

I froze. What?

"You've seen it, haven't you?" The boy's voice carried over. "Did the stars not tell you?"

Grover cut in. "What does that—"

"Did you break too?" the boy interrupted, his smirk widening. "Is there not enough storage space in that stupid goat brain?"

"I'll break your face !" Grover snarled, his fists clenched, but his threats didn't faze the boy in the slightest.

"Stupid fauns aside," the boy scoffed, his tone condescending, "hurry up and remember. It will be so rewarding when you do."

Remember? What did he mean?

I tilted my head toward the sky, shrouded by thick storm clouds. The stars were hidden, their light veiled, yet I could still feel their presence. The stars always spoke to me, like wisp of words. But the last vision—they hadn't whispered. They'd screamed, forcing images into my mind like a torrent.

It had come just before the bounded field broke. Divination is an unpredictable art, the answers fleeting and fickle. Sometimes clear, sometimes a muddled mess of riddles. But this? This was different. A vision so sudden, so vivid, that it carved itself into my memory like stone:

Death—the Sword of Damocles, hung above the camp, about to fall.

A blighted star, weeping black mud that poisoned everything it touched.

A towering pine, its branches stretched wide, standing over a hundred hands beckoning to it.

A fallen star, cloaked in a veil of night, hiding in plain sight.

The sun bleeding red, shining its final, desperate light before dimming into oblivion.

Blue light devoured by an endless pitch-black void, leaving nothing—not even a reflection.

I understood fragments, but the rest? A mystery. I didn't have enough information. With no other choice, I relented, my gaze falling back to the boy.

"I see," he said smugly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Between the two of us, I am clearly the better seer." His grin widened as he added, "Well... I suppose I'll illuminate you this once, if only to savor the look on your faces."

He paused, as if relishing the moment, before speaking nonchalantly. "The bare-bones version of it? We won ."

The words hung in the air, empty and detached, but their weight bore down on me like a stone.

"What do you mean, 'you won'?" Grover snapped, his voice sharp and filled with disbelief.

"I said we won," the boy repeated, as though it were obvious. "There's no point in fighting it now. The welcoming party has commenced, and soon the guest of honor will arrive to be greeted with open arms."

"Guest?" I managed, my voice trembling. "Who?"

His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, it felt as if I were staring at a corpse. Something in his gaze was hollow, lifeless, yet brimming with malice.

"You know," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "He's been with you the entire time."

A cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach.

"The one you were sent to serve."

No. It couldn't be. "Saber would never join you," I said, my voice breaking with conviction.

The boy grinned at that, a grotesque, self-satisfied expression. "It is written in the fates. The rider of the sun will die today, and the blue Saber will be dyed black. He will wear the robe of man and become our king's greatest weapon."

"He would never do that!" I shouted, my heart pounding.

The boy chuckled darkly. "And what makes you think he has a choice? Whether he wants to or not, it is fated. Today, this war will be won!"

And that's when it all clicked.

The invasion. The camp—it was all a distraction, a secondary objective. They weren't here for us. They were after Saber. They were always after him.

But how? The mud. The curses.

I turned my gaze back to the snake's trail. The mud wasn't just corrupting everything it touched—it was transforming the very world itself. A blight, creeping and consuming. Saber was a Servant, beyond mortal strength, but even he had limits. With enough curses... even he would fall . Even he would turn .

My eyes locked onto the direction of the camp. The distant sounds of fighting reached us, fires, screams, and explosions painted a vivid picture of chaos. The camp was under siege, and by its trajectory, the serpent was heading to...

Panic clawed at my chest as the pieces solidified into a horrifying picture.

"We have to go." My voice trembled but carried a resolute edge. Tyson stiffened, sensing the shift in my tone.

"What?" Grover asked, his voice sharp with confusion.

"Saber. They're after Percy. We have to go now !"

The boy laughed from under Grover's weight, a mocking, twisted sound. "It's too late now. You can't stop destiny!"

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I refused to believe them. Saber couldn't fall—not him.

My gaze flicked to the boy. "Tyson, knock him unconscious."

The boy barely had time to sputter, "You da—ack!" before Tyson's massive fist silenced him with one swift punch.

"We're leaving!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos.

"But what about Thalia?!" Grover's voice cracked with desperation.

"Grover," I said, softening my tone just enough, "do you want to stay here and guard Thalia?"

His eyes darted between the scorched remains of the tree and me. They were clouded, full of doubt. But then, as if something inside him snapped into place, clarity shone through. "I…" He glanced one last time at the tree, then met my gaze. "I think Thalia would want me to go. Percy's my friend. If he's in danger, I have to help."

"Good." I nodded, turning to Tyson. "Take him too." I gestured to the unconscious boy. "If nothing else, he'll make a good hostage."

Tyson nodded without hesitation, hoisting the limp body like a sack of potatoes under his arm. Then he knelt, letting me climb onto his back. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, bracing myself.

"Wait, let me just mentally prepa—" Grover started, but I cut him off.

"Now!"

With no hesitation, Tyson scooped Grover up in one arm like he weighed nothing. Then, with a single powerful leap, we were airborne. The chaos around us blurred into a haze of fire, steel, and screaming voices as Tyson bounded forward. Each jump brought us closer to the heart of the battle, where the sounds of war were deafening. I clung tightly to Tyson's broad shoulders, my breath ragged as I scanned the battlefield for any sign of Saber.

The unconscious boy became a liability almost immediately. Tyson had to hurl him into a horde of soldiers just to escape their grasp. We were attacked on all sides. Both campers and enemy soldiers struck at us without hesitation. A lone cyclops carrying two kids was not a sight that inspired trust. Arrows rained down from above, scraping against Tyson's thick skin as he powered through. "Speed is of the essence," I reminded myself over and over, trying to push the gruesome images from my mind.

Children fought valiantly against monsters, their faces contorted with terror and determination. Others weren't as lucky. My stomach churned, and I had to close my eyes as we passed bodies I didn't want to recognize. A mechanical dragon crashed into a stone building not far from us, spewing fire as enormous metal arrows pierced it.

Then I saw him.

"There!" I shouted, pointing ahead.

Saber was darting through the sky, dodging a storm of arrows. His blade flashing with brilliant blue light as he deflected everything aimed at him. He jumped on the wind, hurling down towards–

No.

"Saber, stop!" I screamed, panic flooding my voice.

He didn't hear me, he was free-falling, about to land on the river.

"It's a trap!" I yelled again, but my voice was drowned out by the chaos.

The moment Saber touched the water, it happened. Black threads erupted from the depths, wrapping around him in an instant. His sword glowed brighter than ever, cutting through the writhing mass, but the threads kept coming. They multiplied endlessly, like shadows given life.

"Saber, get out of the water!" I cried, desperation choking me. "Or you won't come back!"

He turned his head toward me, his eyes as focused as ever. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the serpent emerged. It burst from the river with terrifying force, its three heads rising high into the air before coiling around Saber. He swung his blade, cleaving through one head, then another, but it was futile. The serpent's body reformed like liquid, black as night, drowning him in an endless tide.

"Saber!" I screamed as I watched him disappear.

His sword shone one last, brilliant blue as he was dragged into the river's depths. The glow spread outward, illuminating the water until it was as blue as the sea. But then, as quickly as it came, the light began to dim. Blackness crept in from the edges, swallowing the blue whole.

"SABER!" I screamed as the last hue disappeared into the black.