The evening sky stretched endlessly above Misaki Town, painted in hues of deepening indigo and bruised purple. Raphael Arzenon stood atop a crumbling rooftop, the wind tugging at his disheveled coat as he gazed upward. Exhaustion clung to him like a second skin, every muscle screaming from the battles that had pushed him to the brink. Yet his mind, ever restless, sought answers from the one constant presence in his chaotic existence.
"Cielux," he murmured, his voice carrying a quiet weariness laced with genuine curiosity. "I was wondering... is Soul Destruction a Higher-dimensional ability? Based on what I learned back in the Clock Tower, a Soul is described as a living phenomenon that exists in a higher dimension. It uses the body merely as a catalyst, guiding the mind."
In the vast Inner World of his mind—a boundless realm of shimmering spiritron codes and endless libraries of analyzed knowledge—Cielux materialized. Her form glowed with ethereal silver-blue light, her expression softening into a gentle, knowing smile that held both affection and the weight of infinite data.
"Indeed, Master," she replied, her voice like crystalline bells echoing through the mental expanse. "Soul Destruction is a Higher-dimensional ability. It was something Roanoke invented specifically to harm Higher-Dimensional Lifeforms—beings such as Heroic Spirits or Divine Spirits. It bypasses mere physicality to strike at the very essence recorded beyond ordinary spacetime."
Raphael's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. A spark of hope flickered in his chest, fragile yet insistent. "In that case... does that mean beating Gilgamesh makes me equal to those Higher-Dimensional Lifeforms?"
For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then Cielux burst into pure, unrestrained laughter. "Hahahahaha!" Her shoulders shook, imaginary tears glistening at the corners of her eyes as the sound filled the Inner World with rare, genuine mirth.
Raphael pouted, his face twisting into clear annoyance. The exhaustion made his temper shorter than usual. "What's so funny about that?" he demanded, his tone sharp and irritated.
Cielux wiped away the nonexistent tears, composing herself with visible effort, though a lingering smile danced on her lips. "My apologies, Master. It's just... the answer is an absolute no. Just because you can wield a Higher-dimensional ability does not scale you to the level of Higher-Dimensional beings themselves. It's like asking if a soldier who fires a nuclear bomb is equal to the nuclear explosion they unleashed. The obvious answer is no."
She paused, her expression growing more serious as she delved deeper into the explanation, her voice steady and informative. "In this context, Higher-dimensional beings are essentially spiritual or Soul-based entities. The Soul itself is a Higher-dimensional existence, yes—but the human body is not. This is precisely why humans can still perish from ordinary bullets or mundane injuries. The same principle applies to Servants."
Cielux gestured, projecting holographic visions into the Inner World: towering Thrones and radiant divine forms. "Heroic Spirits are Souls recorded in the Throne of Heroes—a system akin to a grand library residing in a higher dimension. The Throne exists above the concept of time itself, possessing neither a true past nor future. This is why it is possible to summon a hero from the distant future into the past, even before their birth. Divine Spirits, meanwhile, are higher-dimensional lifeforms by nature. For gods on the level of Amaterasu, the Time Axis is practically irrelevant."
Her tone turned somber. "Yet both Heroic Spirits and Divine Spirits face a critical limitation: they cannot easily interact with the normal material world. To do so, they require vessels—containers as valuable and fragile as the human body. Their manifested forms are thus constrained by the laws of the lower-dimensional world."
Raphael absorbed the information, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. The pieces of his understanding clicked into place, though new questions arose. "I see your point. So I remain a normal lower-dimensional being—a human—while Servants themselves are bound by material world rules, placing them on essentially the same level as me in practice. But if that's the case, why would Roanoke create an ability to destroy souls themselves? If Higher-dimensional beings cannot even act in the material world without a vessel, what's the purpose?"
Cielux's face grew deadly serious, her silver-blue eyes hardening with analytical precision. "It is possible that Roanoke devised it to immediately kill Divine Spirits in their vessels. From my thorough analysis of Roanoke's patterns and psyche... he is not merely a vampire who enjoys toying with people. He is the type who desires to erase an individual completely—body, soul, and legacy—while savoring every moment of their annihilation."
Raphael's face twisted in a potent mix of disgust and burning rage. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening. "That Roanoke is truly a monster," he growled, voice thick with fury. "I can't wait to kill him eventually."
Cielux's expression shifted to one of firm determination, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Master, focus on your recovery first before rushing into any more battles. You promised me you wouldn't be reckless anymore, and I refuse to let you break that promise."
Raphael sighed deeply, the fight draining from his posture as acceptance settled over him. He knew she was right. Rest was the most vital necessity if he hoped to complete his final mission. "Very well."
Meanwhile, on the fractured streets lit by distant fires...
Omega Heinriel walked with purposeful strides, his jaw set in grim resolve. Blood had soaked through his sleeve, the dark stain spreading with every step, yet he refused to slow. Ciel walked beside him, her hand subtly supporting his arm before he gently pulled away.
"Let's go," Omega said simply, voice steady despite the pain radiating from his wound.
Ciel hesitated only a fraction of a second before releasing him. She respected his pride—and his refusal to let injury dictate their pace. They needed to move. Find Raphael. Stop Saber Alter from changing her mind. And above all, evade the Pope's knights who would slaughter indiscriminately across Misaki Town.
She fell into step beside him again, pulling out a small medical pouch from her coat—the standard issue for Burial Agents. No bandages yet, but she kept it ready.
"I hope the Saintess Sora Starfall isn't here from the Church," Omega muttered, his tone heavy with concern.
Ciel's expression darkened instantly at the name. The Saintess—one of the Church's most devout and terrifying inquisitors. A woman who viewed heresy not as simple sin, but as a stain upon God's purity that demanded purification by holy fire without mercy or hesitation.
If Sora was present, anyone tied to "forbidden" powers—Raphael, Caliburn, or their allies—would become targets for eradication.
Omega Heinriel continued, his voice low and grave. "No, Sora Starfall is a fraud of a saintess. She is only a saintess because she sleeps with the Pope in secret, all while acting like a pure virgin woman in public."
Ciel's eyes widened, then her lips curled into a cold, bitter smirk. Disgust roiled in her gut. The Church's hypocrisy laid bare—preaching purity while their icon indulged in scandal. "Figures," she scoffed quietly.
Omega sighed, pressing on with deeper revelations. "But the issue here is... Sora Starfall is also Raphael Arzenon's ex-girlfriend. They dated in the past, but she cheated on him with someone more powerful than him at the time. Back then, Raphael wasn't as strong as he is now. If Sora learns of his rising power, she will one hundred percent try to seduce him back into being her lover. And no—Raphael isn't naïve. But Sora is a cunning and manipulative woman who wouldn't hesitate to use Raphael's other loved ones as blackmail to force him to follow her goals."
Ciel's stomach twisted painfully. Ex-girlfriend. Betrayal. Cold calculation. The danger this woman posed suddenly felt far more personal and insidious.
They finally reached Raphael. Omega's worry was etched clearly on his face. "Did Sora Starfall come here? Did she blackmail you?" he asked urgently.
Raphael sighed, shaking his head. "No, I haven't seen her in years. But why are you asking?"
Ciel exhaled in quiet relief. A small mercy amid the chaos.
Raphael offered a weak smile. "Is there something you need from me that you came searching for?"
Ciel stepped forward, her voice steady yet urgent. "Yes. We came because we need you. There's a vampire leader preparing an attack soon... and if he isn't stopped now? Millions will die."
Raphael sighed again, exhaustion weighing heavily on every word. "Fine. I will deal with it in five days from now."
Ciel's jaw tightened. Five days felt like an eternity when annihilation loomed. "Raphael, we don't have that time. If you can fight now, even at partial strength... you're our only shot."
Raphael looked at them with hollow eyes. "I drained most of my Magical Energy fighting Dead Apostle Azravael, then Rairen, and just now the King of Heroes Gilgamesh. I only have 8% of my mana left. I can collapse at any moment. If I rush into a fight with Roanoke in this state, I will die like any other fool before me."
The grim reality settled like lead. Ciel felt the cold weight in her chest deepen.
In that moment, Raphael activated his Absolute Appraisal, scanning Ciel's very blueprint—countless rotating magical formulas, spiritual pathways, and conceptual laws. At the center pulsed a single name: CIEL.
Back in the Inner World, Cielux analyzed the impossible structure. "I have completed the analysis of Ciel's immortality, Master."
Visions flashed: throat slit, heart pierced, body burned to ash—only for time itself to rewind the damage. "Ciel's immortality does not function through healing. It is a contradiction acknowledged by the World itself. She carries the same soul designation as Roa. The World identifies her as 'Roa,' making her an error in reality. Death cannot finalize."
Cielux explained the modifications possible through Code Alteration, isolating the restoration principle into a purified form for Raphael. "The integration will take approximately one week."
Raphael nearly choked. "One week?!"
"Correct, Master. A single mistake could destabilize your soul permanently."
Returning to the physical world, Raphael looked at Ciel. "Also... you are Immortal, correct?" He feigned mild curiosity to conceal his Appraisal.
Ciel stiffened, then nodded coldly. "Yeah. I don't age either."
Raphael smirked faintly. "It may be useful later on for a certain plan of mine, but that has to wait."
Ciel studied him warily, sensing layers of strategy hidden behind his eyes.
"So what's our next move?" she asked.
"Simply this: You and Omega Heinriel return to the Church, team up with the Holy Knights to gather an army, and send a message to one of the Mage Clock Tower agencies or Executors to join the battle. Meanwhile, I will go and sleep for a few hours," Raphael replied.
Omega stared in shock. "There is no way you're about to go to sleep while we gather an army?"
Raphael smirked. "I am serious, my friend. Anyways, see you later." He began walking away.
Ciel called after him sharply as he glanced back. "Besides, you are more gifted than me, so I am not really that necessary right now."
The words struck Ciel like a blow. She clenched her fists. "Raphael! You're not useless. You're just injured. That's not weakness—that's survival."
Raphael's eyes looked hollow as he explained without envy, only weary acceptance: "While that's not comforting coming from you, since you have extremely high physical and magical potential. You have exceptionally powerful Magic Circuits with incredible output and magical energy generation. If the average magus's output is 20, you, Ciel, are 5000. You have over twice the amount of magical energy held by the Clock Tower's entire history record. Meanwhile, I myself have weak magic circuits with only a magical energy level of 10. Every time I use my power, it takes almost everything out of me because of my low magical reserves compared to your high ones."
Ciel listened in stunned silence, shame and awe warring within her. This man, with so little natural talent, had fought legends through sheer will.
"Then I'll make up for it," she vowed quietly.
"Also, take care of Omega Heinriel for me," Raphael added as he departed. "I can tell he has also gotten stronger like me. Don't underestimate Omega Heinriel—he is already my level after all, so he is a key player in himself."
Ciel turned to Omega with newfound respect. She tended to his wound with careful hands, cleaning and bandaging it in silence.
Omega remained stoic, offering only a simple "Thanks."
Later, as they prepared to leave, Omega smiled faintly. "My friend Raphael Arzenon walks the path as a mage, and I walk the path as a knight. We both walked different paths, but the one thing we have in common is this: we want to be the best in our path."
Ciel met his gaze. "Your friend is lucky to have you."
"Thanks for that compliment. Now let's return to the church," Omega replied, turning away.
As the pair walked toward the distant spires under the darkening sky, the weight of impending war pressed upon them. Raphael sought rest. They would rally forces. And somewhere in the shadows, Roanoke and the specter of Sora Starfall loomed like gathering storms.
The battle for humanity's survival had only just begun.
On the other side The night air over Misaki Town was cool and carried the faint scent of the river below the bridge. Raphael Arzenon walked with heavy, exhausted steps, his coat torn at the sleeves and his breathing ragged. Only 8% of his mana remained in his circuits — far too little for reliable teleportation across any meaningful distance. The battle had pushed him to his limit.
"Cielux," he muttered, voice low. "I'm activating the Levitation Treasure blueprint. But my reserves are too low… Reconstructed the Jewel Sword Zelretch."
A swirl of kaleidoscopic light erupted beside him as the legendary Mystic Code materialized in his grip. The moment the sword fully manifested, it greedily drew upon his remaining magical energy. Raphael's face tightened as his mana dropped sharply from 8% to 5%. The sword, however, began to glow with dense, vibrant power — more than enough to serve as fuel.
「Understood, Master. Rerouting Jewel Sword Zelretch as primary energy source for the Levitation Treasure. Initializing Codex Akasha blueprint… Levitation Treasure — online.」
Grey particles of light shimmered around Raphael's body as the ancient blueprint activated, now drawing power directly from the Jewel Sword Zelretch. For a moment his feet left the ground. Then—
"Wha—?!"
His balance shattered instantly. Raphael pitched forward, arms flailing wildly as he rose unevenly into the air. The world spun. He tried to correct himself, but the sensation was completely alien — nothing like the instantaneous spatial jumps of his usual teleportation.
Levitating is a completely different form of travel than my normal teleportation methods—
THUD.
His face planted straight into the thick branches of a roadside tree.
Silence.
Then, from the depths of Codex Akasha, Cielux burst into bright, unrestrained laughter.
"Pff— ahaha! Master, your face—!"
Raphael's cheeks burned with embarrassment and annoyance as he peeled himself off the bark, still hovering a few feet off the ground in an awkward, tilted posture, the Jewel Sword Zelretch still clutched tightly in one hand.
"This is not funny," he growled.
Cielux's laughter gradually calmed into gentle chuckles. "My apologies, Master. Levitation is not something one masters on the first try. It responds directly to your will. If you focus your mind and visualize stability, the treasure will obey."
She guided him gently, her voice taking on an instructional tone. "Breathe. Center your thoughts. Feel the flow of magical energy from the Jewel Sword beneath you like an invisible platform."
Raphael closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He poured his concentration into the sensation, imagining himself anchored in the air. The erratic wobbling stopped. Bit by bit, his body straightened until he floated with natural poise. Confidence growing, he willed himself higher.
The ground fell away beneath him. One meter. Ten. Fifty. One hundred.
Soon Raphael hovered calmly over a hundred meters above the bridge, the lights of Misaki Town spread out below like a glittering miniature map. The wind tugged gently at his coat while the Jewel Sword Zelretch continued to supply steady magical energy.
"…It is possible for us to accelerate our speed while levitating?" he asked.
「Yes. However, the acceleration will place significant strain on your human body. I will activate Age-of-Gods Barriers around you to protect you from the worst of it.」
Cielux spoke so matter-of-factly, as if his survival was already a foregone conclusion.
Raphael felt a bead of cold sweat run down his temple. "You seem too relaxed about me surviving high acceleration…"
A mischievous grin could practically be heard in her reply. 「Master, I don't know what you're talking about. I simply have pure confidence in you.」
Raphael scoffed, though the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. "Cheeky AI…"
He steadied his breathing, eyes narrowing with determination as the Grey light around him intensified. The Levitation Treasure hummed with power drawn from the Jewel Sword Zelretch, waiting for his command.
"Fine. Let's accelerate."
The night sky above Misaki Town suddenly streaked with a trail of Grey light as Prepared to Raphael shot forward, the barriers shimmering into existence around him like invisible armor.
Raphael Arzenon accelerated without hesitation. The Levitation Treasure, fueled by the Jewel Sword Zelretch, responded to his focused will. In an instant, he shattered the sound barrier with a deafening crack that rolled across Misaki Town like thunder. The air warped violently around the Age-of-Gods Barriers protecting his body as he pushed further—faster—reaching Mach 50 in mere heartbeats.
The world below became a streaking blur of light and shadow.
In the span of three seconds, Raphael became a Grey phantom racing across every corner of the town. He swept through blazing districts where flames devoured buildings, his passage generating shockwaves that snuffed out fires in roaring bursts of displaced air. Roofs collapsed inward as the last embers died under the pressure of his velocity. He carved through industrial blocks, residential streets, and crowded commercial avenues without slowing.
Where panicked citizens huddled or ran from the inferno, invisible barriers extended from his wake, gently lifting groups of people and carrying them at safe speeds toward the open parks and evacuation zones on the outskirts. Families, the elderly, children—none were left behind. In fractions of a second he located every straggler, every trapped soul, and deposited them into safety amid the chaos.
Buildings stopped burning. Streets fell silent of screams. The raging fires that had threatened to consume Misaki Town were extinguished in one overwhelming, hypersonic sweep.
Then, at the end of those three seconds, the grey streak vanished.
A final flash of prismatic light from the Jewel Sword Zelretch flickered high above the river—and Raphael Arzenon was gone. No trail, no afterimage, no lingering presence. Only the quiet night sky and a town suddenly saved from the brink remained.
Deep within the collapsing outskirts of the town, Sion Eltnam Atlasia ran desperately through streets choked with smoke and falling debris. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each breath burning in her lungs. The Wandering Sea gate was supposed to remain open for another twenty seconds—yet she was still five full minutes away. Fireballs rained from ruptured ley lines, and entire buildings groaned as they tilted toward collapse.
Impossible. I won't make it.
Her crimson eyes widened as she crested a hill of rubble. On the horizon, the silver shimmer of the dimensional rift was already flickering weakly, like a dying star on the verge of extinction.
Riesbyfe had warned her—dimensional gates of the Wandering Sea did not collapse at such speed unless forcibly disrupted by an external power of immense caliber.
Gilgamesh.
The realization hit like ice water. The King of Heroes must have sensed the anomaly across space and time and chosen to close it early. On purpose.
Sion's legs burned as she pushed harder, Etherlite threads flickering around her wrists in a last-ditch attempt to accelerate—
A sonic boom detonated directly behind her.
Everything blurred.
In less than two seconds, an overwhelming force scooped her up with impossible precision. The world became streaks of light and pressure. Sion felt herself lifted, carried, and gently deposited through the collapsing gate just half a second before the rift snapped shut with a thunderous crack that reverberated through dimensions themselves.
She landed inside the Wandering Sea's serene arrival chamber, the sterile white floors and ancient alchemical runes glowing softly around her. The air was cool, quiet, and safe.
Sion looked up.
Raphael Arzenon stood over her.
His eyes burned a violent crimson, blood streaming from them in thin rivulets. More blood trickled from his ears and stained the corners of his lips. His posture was unsteady, swaying like a blade bent to the point of snapping. The sheer strain of moving at such velocity had torn at his body from the inside.
Yet he forced a small, tired smile down at her.
"Are you alright?" he asked, voice hoarse but gentle.
Sion's breath caught in her throat. The great Sion Eltnam Atlasia—genius alchemist, heir of Atlas, one who rarely showed vulnerability—found herself utterly speechless. He had moved faster than sound itself, pierced a collapsing space-time rift, and pulled her to safety… all while his body screamed in protest. And the first words out of his mouth were concern for her.
Without thinking, Sion surged forward. She grabbed his arm and yanked him into a fierce embrace, arms locking around him tightly, almost desperately. The scent of blood, ozone, and scorched air clung to his coat. She could feel how badly he was trembling.
Raphael blinked in confusion, arms hovering uncertainly before he managed, "What was that for?"
Sion didn't let go immediately. She held on for several long seconds, face buried against his shoulder, heart still racing from both the escape and something far more complicated. Only then did she pull back just enough to meet his blood-red eyes.
"…Idiot," she muttered. Her voice was quiet, shaky, laced with a mixture of relief, anger, and overwhelming emotion she couldn't quite name. "You nearly died saving me. You pushed your body beyond anything human—or even vampire—should survive. And you ask me if I'm alright?"
She reached up, gently wiping blood from his ear with her thumb, her frown deepening with worry.
"You're bleeding everywhere."
Raphael let out a long, weary sigh. He swayed again but remained standing through sheer willpower. "This blood is the result of mental overload. I was in three different battles in a single day. First, I had to fight Dead Apostle Azravael. Then, four hours before I even met you, I faced Dead Apostle Ancestor Rairen. And just now… I had to fight Gilgamesh and win. Clearly, my body is breaking down from a lack of rest."
Sion's expression shifted rapidly—concern melting into shock, then sharpening into quiet fury. Three battles. One day. Against a Dead Apostle, a Dead Apostle Ancestor, and the King of Heroes himself. The sheer insanity of it made her chest tighten. No one should have been able to survive that gauntlet, let alone still stand here bleeding but smiling.
In the inner world of Codex Akasha, Cielux's calm voice spoke directly to Raphael.
「Oh, Master, by the way—the Church is coming after you. You should ask Sion how you can get away with this.」
Raphael exhaled slowly and lowered himself to sit on the cool chamber floor, legs no longer willing to support him fully. "Also… the Pope has ordered his Holy Knights to come after me. He sees my rising power as a potential threat to the Church's authority."
Sion froze.
The Pope. Holy Knights. Sent to kill him—not for any crime against humanity, but simply because he was growing too strong. The realization ignited a cold anger in her chest. These were the same people meant to protect the innocent. Yet here they were, turning their blades on someone who had fought monsters on their behalf without demanding reward.
Raphael continued, voice heavy with exhaustion. "This is why I wanted to ask for a small favor."
Sion's anger cooled into focused resolve. She sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched, giving him her full attention. Riesbyfe, who had been observing silently from a distance, turned her full focus toward them as well.
Raphael looked at Sion, crimson eyes tired but sincere. "While I am only a partial Atlas Institute member and not a full member… do you think it is possible for you to warn the Church to stand down? Since the Atlas Institute is the group who created all the weapons for the Church, that means the Church and Atlas Institute are allies. Do you think it is possible that you can tell the Church that attacking me is the equivalent of attacking one of Atlas Institute's own inner members? Which will anger Atlas into not making weapons for them if that scenario happens. This will force the Church into stopping temporarily, since the Church wouldn't want to risk killing me if that meant potentially having Atlas stop giving them weapons. So, do you think that favor is possible?"
Sion listened carefully, every word sinking deep. Her mind raced through centuries of politics, fragile alliances, and the cold calculus of power between Atlas and the Holy Church. Yes. It was more than possible—it was logical.
She stood slowly, expression hardening with determination. She looked at Raphael not as a burden or stranger, but as someone who had already given far more than the Church or anyone else had the right to ask.
"Yes," she said firmly, voice steady with quiet conviction. "It's possible."
She turned toward Riesbyfe. "Ries—can you open a secure comms channel to the Director?"
Riesbyfe nodded without hesitation and raised her hand. A soft holographic glow formed in the air, establishing a private, encrypted line.
Within seconds, the Director's calm, authoritative voice responded. "Sion? What is it?"
Sion took a measured breath. "Sir, I have an urgent diplomatic request regarding Raphael Arzenon."
A brief, attentive pause.
"The Pope has issued orders for Holy Knights to kill him—claiming his rising power threatens Church authority."
She let the weight of those words linger before continuing.
"Raphael is currently under my protection… and I am formally requesting that Atlas Institute declare him as a conditional ally member with full protective status retroactive to today."
The Director remained silent for a long moment. The tension in the chamber thickened. Even Riesbyfe glanced sideways.
Then, at last:
"…Understood."
Another pause, followed by the Director's measured tone.
"Sion Eltnam Atlasia. By authority vested in me as Head of Atlas Institute, I hereby declare Raphael Arzenon to be a Conditional Ally Member under your direct protection. This status is effective immediately and carries full diplomatic immunity from all affiliated forces—including the Church's Holy Knights."
The Director continued after another measured breath.
"This declaration will be transmitted to every major branch of Atlas… and forwarded directly to Vatican High Command within ten minutes."
Sion exhaled, a flicker of visible relief crossing her face before she regained her composure. It was done. Raphael was now shielded. Any attack on him would be considered an act of aggression against Atlas itself—something the Church could not afford.
She turned back to Raphael, kneeling beside him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her touch was careful, mindful of his injuries.
"It's done," she said quietly, voice soft yet resolute. "The Church will receive Atlas' declaration within minutes. Anyone who attacks you from this moment forward… is attacking an ally of Atlas Institute."
Raphael's exhausted crimson eyes met hers. "Thank you. I don't know how to repay you in the future." He paused, then added, "Is it possible for you to wake me up from five hours from now? I have one more mission to do before the next day happens."
He clutched his stomach, slowly rising and moving toward the nearby recovery chamber. Sion helped guide him, supporting part of his weight without comment.
Inside the simple guest room—dimly lit with soft alchemical lighting and a clean bed—Raphael finally allowed his body to give in. The moment he lay down, his eyes closed. His breathing deepened into the heavy rhythm of total exhaustion. Blood still marked his face and ears, but the worst of the tension finally drained from his muscles.
Sion pulled a thin blanket over him with careful hands. No unnecessary words. No fuss. Just quiet, genuine care.
She sat in the chair beside the bed, watching over him like a silent sentinel. Her Etherlite threads hummed faintly at her wrist—not for battle, but as a quiet promise.
I'm here.