唐僧道:"悟空,你说得几时方可到?"行者道:"你自小时走到老,老了再小,老小千番也还难.只要你见性志诚,念念回首处,即是灵山."
"Wukong," said the Tang Monk, "tell us when we shall be able to reach our destination." Pilgrim said, "You can walk from the time of your youth till the time you grow old, and after that, till you become youthful again; and even after going through such a cycle a thousand times, you may still find it difficult to reach the place you want to go to. But when you perceive, by the resoluteness of your will, the Buddha-nature in all things, and when every one of your thoughts goes back to its very source in your memory, that will be the time you arrive at the Spirit Mountain."
- Journey to the West by Wu Cheng'en, Chapter 24.
Back on Helios Kai was looking in the mirror his hair was beginning to thin. He was only 19 years old and it was gnawing at him. His hair was going through the stages of the Norwood scale. First the hair began to recede from the temples and then the crown and now the hair was on full retreat. Noah entered his room as they all still lived on Nova's compound and would go there everyday after school, Kai for his part hadn't visited his parents lately he was worried how they would react to him going bald. Noah came in and crossed his arms. "Still no luck with the hairline?" Kai shook his head, he was a green skinned alien with pointy ears but even still he didn't like that he was going bald. "I can't imagine how Sarah would react," said Kai. Nova sighed, "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, Sarah is a Prostitute Kai." Kai grunted: "Yes, but I can make her change." Nova shrugged: "Whatever." Fast footsteps were heard running up to the room. The person was Lior. "Guys, come with me. Me and Nova have some important news." Nova and Kai headed downstairs and saw Nova, the Green Wisp and others watching the TV. There was something happening on the News. The Qatari Empire was merging with a rival state. A state it had been in a war with for over 25 years. The screen flickered with grainy satellite footage—two banners, once sworn enemies, now raised side by side over the walls of the Sarrak Citadel. The Qatari Empire and the Kaldran State, long at odds, were merging. But it wasn't a peace treaty. It was something else. A convergence. The news anchor's voice was tight with disbelief.
"History has been made today when the leader of the Kaldra state has given his empire's sovereignty to the Qatari Empire. The Qatari Empire now extends over 30,000 Square Miles from the Northern Ocean to the Turquoise Central Sea. The Empire continues to grow in all directions, and indeed the continuing march of Qatari's conquest of not only the Planet but the Universe." The Green Wisp declared: "What happened? The Qatari empire was at war with Kaldreans for years. They were in a stalemate and the Kaldrean empire was food secure so none of Qatari's blockades were working. What could they concede?!" Sir Rhyme countered: "We were sent to Guardia a while back to convince them to become a vassal, perhaps there was some international espionage involved in bringing the empire to its knees." Lior nodded: "There's no doubt, I'd ask Ungar if he were here. He knew about all the inner-workings of the state." Nova added: "I can tell you." Everyone looked at Nova. Nova laughed: "The Qatari Empire is simply using the demons to bring some of its foreign rivals to heel."
Kai leaned forward, his heart thudding. "Demons? Since when do Qatari use demons?" Nova turned from the TV, the static glow outlining his sharp features. "Since always," he said. "You think they expanded across half a continent because of good farming or irrigation practices?" The Green Wisp balked. "This is worse than we thought. If they're binding demons to their will, it's not just politics anymore. It's war on a different level." Sir Rhyme leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "Demons don't come cheap. There's always a price. Always." Kai rubbed his temples. His hairline, his future—it all felt small now. "So what happens next?" Nova didn't smile. "They'll turn their eyes outward. No one's safe." Lior added, voice low, "We need to get ready. Helios isn't out of their reach." No one said anything for a second. Just the low hum of the TV filled the silence, as new images rolled across the screen—dark creatures moving through the streets of Sarrak, hidden by cloaks, guarded by imperial soldiers.
Kai stared at the map on the wall, feeling the weight of it all. His hand absentmindedly touched his thinning scalp. Bald or not, he was going to have to be ready. There was no running from this.
Nova laughed: "We won't deal with anything until the idolaters in the South are dealt with, we owe the Prophet this while she's dealing with problems in Umi." Zaiyal walked downstairs laughing: "The last group of idolaters were quite the loathsome lot. Narcis Martreya went into one of their idol temples and insisted there was no source of Enlightenment in any of their books and no hint of the Buddhist Sutras in any of their works," said Zaiyal. Nova smirked: "That was the least of their problems, on top of that and the Idol worship they were cannibals and sacrificed infants in their religious rituals, but this next group of idolaters we are fighting are far worse, perhaps it couldn't be argued against if someone said they were the worst of creation even though this would still be hyperbolic." Zaiyal pressed Nova: "What do you mean that these idolaters and heretics are worse, how so?" Nova looked down: "They do everything the last group we fought did and then some, they worship Idols to strange Demonic Gods, they eat other human beings as well as Elves and other magical beings, they sacrifice infants and all others etc., they are known to rape the women and children of their enemies and the men, and their cannibalism is used as a tool of terror eating the fallen in the heat of battle and throwing entrails upon their enemies." Noah said: "I don't even think it has to be said." Zaiyal nodded: "Don't worry, we'll bring as many as we need to."
Meanwhile, the Prophet was once again dealing with the issue at the Citadel. The Prophet stood on the shattered battlements of the Citadel, her Spirit Blade still faintly glowing from the fight with the Siren Champion. Below her, the city churned with fear and confusion, ripples of chaos leaking from the newly-opened Vault. Ungar arrived at her side, breathing hard. "The Council's scattered," he said. "Erentha's trying to hold the upper tiers, but without the Vault's seal... it's bad." Ungar continued: "I'm going to deactivate the Core, it's the only way to neutralize the situation." Hermes simply nodded in approval. The Prophet nodded once, cold and steady. "It's about to get worse. Vael is moving." Far down the boulevard, the Black Cardinal advanced. His very presence warped the light around him. The fragments orbiting his arms—weapons of dead civilizations—twisted through the air like sharks scenting blood. Behind the Prophet, Kazan, Lupus, Nelly, Narcis, and the others formed up. No speeches. No bravado. Just grim faces ready for what was coming. Vael didn't slow. He stopped only a dozen meters away, standing in the dust and ash, the Vault's unholy light framing him like a crown. His voice was quiet, but it carried like a hammer striking stone.
"You should not have come." The Prophet stepped forward, blade loose in her hand but ready. "You serve the Core, don't you?" "I protect what must be protected," Vael said. "Even if it means annihilating the unworthy." Ungar growled. "We're not your enemy." Vael's eyes—those spinning glyphs—bored into them. "You bring collapse in your wake. You are not saviors. You are catalysts." Without warning, Vael moved. No hesitation. No warning shot. One moment he was standing still; the next he was among them. Kazan barely got her blade up in time. Sparks flew as she blocked a blow that could have shattered a mountain. Narcis threw up a kinetic shield, but it cracked on impact, forcing him to backpedal. Nelly hurled a gravity well at Vael, but it disintegrated before it could even touch him.
Lupus roared and charged, swinging with raw fury. Vael caught his fist midair and crushed it, forcing Lupus to drop to one knee with a snarl of pain. The Prophet moved. Their clash sent shockwaves through the ruined Citadel, walls collapsing outward. Spirit Blade against Black Fragments. Light against the dead weight of ancient power. Vael was faster than anyone they had faced. He fought like a storm—no wasted movement, no hesitation, just inevitable crushing force. "You still don't understand," Vael said between strikes, voice as calm as ever. "You cannot protect what must not endure." The Prophet's blade flared brighter. "And you don't understand," she snapped, "that not all collapse is destruction. Some collapse is rebirth." Vael's expression didn't change. But he fought harder now, pressing her. Behind them, Ungar grabbed Nelly. "Disrupt the Vault. If we can cut off the Core's energy, we can weaken him!"
Nelly nodded, sprinting through the rubble toward the glowing Vault doors, Kai and Zaiyal covering her from above with long-range blasts. Every few seconds Vael would glance that way, irritation creeping into his perfect composure. The Prophet saw it. She grinned grimly. He's not invincible. He's still bound to the Vault. The battle raged. Narcis launched spears of molten metal. Kazan drove Vael back with barrages of kinetic explosions. Even wounded, Lupus joined in, every punch and kick a defiant roar. But Vael was patient. Every blow they landed, he absorbed. Every strike they blocked, he learned. The Prophet knew they couldn't win in a straight fight. She had to gamble. She charged, faking high, then at the last second threw the Spirit Blade like a spear. Vael instinctively raised his arm to block—and in that instant, Ungar unleashed a disruption field from a hidden generator. Vael staggered. Not much, but enough. The Prophet leapt, catching her blade midair, and drove it down into his chest with a battle cry. Light exploded. Vael roared, the sound deep and wrong, like the earth itself was being torn apart. The glyphs around him spun madly, fragments of dead weapons cracking and shattering under the pressure. "You dare—" Vael choked out. "We dare," the Prophet said.
Nelly reached the Vault doors, slamming her hands into the ancient mechanisms. She screamed as the feedback hit her—raw memories, raw pain—but she kept going, pouring gravity inversions and kinetic overloads into the structure. The Vault shuddered. Vael looked at the Prophet one last time. And smiled. A cold, hollow thing. "You cannot stop what was set in motion eons ago." Then— The Vault collapsed inward, a black hole of screaming energy, dragging Vael with it. The ground ripped open, swallowing stone, metal, and light. The team ran, sprinting for their lives as the Citadel imploded behind them. When it was over, only a smoking crater remained where the Vault—and Vael—had been. Vael however materialized again, it was clear he was not defeated, Ungar took this as his cue.
Ungar shrunk down his body to the size of a small micro-organism and entered the micro-universe. Immediately Ungar came into contact with a group of water-bears some of them were friendly but many of them were hostile with their teeth blaring at Ungar, Ungar as an immortal being had nothing to fear from them. He just needed to find the Core once he deactivated. Vael's power would be shut off. It took some time fighting his way there but eventually Ungar fought his way to the core and eventually came across small beings made of light. "Finally, time to shut it down," said Ungar. Ungar stepped forward, the beings of light hovering around the Core, pulsing with confused energy. They weren't hostile, but they weren't welcoming either. They recognized him as an intruder. He didn't blame them. His presence here was a violation of something ancient. "I don't have time for ceremony," Ungar muttered. He extended his hand. The Core flared defensively, streams of radiant force lashing out. Ungar narrowed his eyes, forcing his immortality to absorb the assault. Every step forward felt like walking through a star being born. His armor cracked, mended, cracked again. Still he pressed on.
Behind him, the water-bear swarm regrouped, sensing weakness. They threw themselves at the light beings, snarling and biting, disrupting the defenses just enough. Ungar used the moment, driving his fist into the pulsing center of the Core. Pain unlike anything he had ever experienced screamed through his body. The Core wasn't just a machine—it was alive. It fought back, bombarding him with visions: the birth of empires, the rise and fall of gods, the annihilation of entire civilizations. It tried to drown him in meaninglessness. Ungar roared. "I've seen worse!" He forced his will into the Core, unmaking its patterns, undoing its impossible structure piece by piece. The beings of light tried to reweave it, but he moved too fast, disrupting the rhythm, pulling it apart thread by thread. Above, in the real world, Vael staggered mid-attack, his glyphs sputtering, the fragments around him dimming. The Prophet saw the opening.
"Now!" she shouted. Narcis, Kazan, Lupus, Nova, and the others hit Vael with everything they had. Blades, spells, pure kinetic force—a full assault designed to break even the strongest. Vael gritted his teeth, trying to muster his power, but it was slipping through his fingers like sand. He swung blindly, the fragments tearing into stone and air but missing his enemies. Inside the micro-universe, Ungar found the Core's heart—a tiny black sphere, perfectly smooth, vibrating with pure destructive potential. Without hesitation, he crushed it in his hand. The Core screamed—a soundless implosion—and vanished. In the Citadel, Vael froze. The light around him shattered. His body cracked down the middle, pure void leaking out, and he fell to one knee. The Prophet didn't hesitate. With a single, brutal slash, she drove her Spirit Blade through him. Vael looked up at her, almost... grateful. The wound on his body healed but his meaning, 'Vael,' fell to his knees. "Well do me in the Prophet, you got me right where you want me? Finish me off. You already shut off the core, the demons will be able to destroy all of us." Hermes was confused, "Ungar didn't shut off the core, he only temporarily disabled it to put you out of fighting shape and neutralize you as a threat. I swear we only want to talk, we're not allied with the demons." Vael smiled: "Then I have a lot to explain to you as well, I guess you'll be following me."
Back on Helios, Zaiyal and the others landed in the midst of the Polytheist tribe who were worshipping strange demonic idols while cooking the flesh of humans and other animals. Suddenly airstrikes hit the village from above. Zaiyal began shooting ki blasts down upon them vaporizing them. While Kai and Noah began to hit the tribesmen with flame-throwers. A large airship with the flag of the Imperial Qatari Realm fluttered overhead. Kai whispered to himself: "Filthy animals, we need to exterminate all of these vermin." None of them felt any remorse for these people, Noah walked into a tent where older tribal leaders were sexually vioalting dead three and four children and hit them with the flamethrower. The savage perpetrators screamed an uncontrollable blood-curdling scream. Nova smirked: "I shouldn't take any pleasure in such a thing, it should be just like bug-bombing a house." The assault turned into a massacre.
Zaiyal, Kai, Nova, and Noah moved through the burning village with cold efficiency. Smoke spiraled into the sky, black against the blood-red sunset. The Polytheist tribesmen tried to regroup, tried to mount some resistance, but it was useless. Their weapons were crude, their tactics savage and scattered. Against the trained, hardened strike team and the might of the Imperial Qatari Realm's air fleet, they never stood a chance. Kai snapped off precision blasts, each one burning clean through the chest of a tribesman trying to flee. Noah swept methodically through the huts and shrines, torching anything that could have housed survivors or stored supplies. Zaiyal moved ahead, almost a blur, cutting down any fighters before they could even scream. Nova brought up the rear, laying charges to collapse the enemy's sacred monoliths—their gods would fall along with them. A shrieking figure in priestly garb stumbled from a ruined shrine or idol temple, a blade made of bone in his hand. He pointed it at Zaiyal, muttering curses. Zaiyal didn't even slow down. A flick of his wrist and a spear of ki ripped through his skull. "Pathetic," he muttered.
In the center of the village, a cluster of prisoners—emaciated, brutalized survivors—huddled in makeshift cages. Nova moved fast, slicing the locks with a plasma cutter. "Move," he ordered. Some of the prisoners stumbled out, dazed. Others dropped dead the moment they were free—too far gone to save. Above them, the airship's cannons opened up again, pounding the outskirts where remnants of the tribe were trying to regroup. Earth, fire, and broken bodies filled the air. Kai paced toward the largest bonfire, where a grotesque altar still smoldered with offerings of flesh. He stared at it for a long moment, his face unreadable. "It would be one thing if they merely worshipped idols or something, but this is too much. No mercy for this," he said. He threw a grenade into the pyre. The explosion tore the altar apart, showering embers and splinters into the wind. Nova clicked his comms on. "Village secure. No survivors. Moving to secondary objectives."
"Copy that," came the response from the command. The team gathered at the edge of the ruin, armor scorched but spirits untouched. They hadn't come for peace. They hadn't come for negotiations. They had come to cleanse. There was no negotiating with these people; all others outside the tribe were considered subhuman to these people and what that culture had gotten all of them in the end was complete and total destruction. As the last structures burned and the last screams died, Zaiyal glanced at Kai. "Next village is two clicks south." He nodded, checking his gear. "Let's finish the job." Without another word, they moved out, shadows against the firelit horizon. The villages nearby strongholds would fall as well.
Back in Umi our heroes were lowered down an elevator as they stood behind Vael. Vael smiled: "I'm glad to see you're not on the side of the demons, everything has been stabilized, the core is up and running and the Citadel is secure. If you were demons I have no doubt you would not have allowed such a thing. Now tell me why are you here? We know that you're a self-described Prophet but we know little if anything else." Hermes nodded and took a deep breath, she explained everything along with everyone else. Vael was shocked: "Wait you're from the canopy of the Gods [speaking about Ebisu] they sealed themselves off from the outside world thousands of years ago though?" Ebisu giggled with his eyes closed kind of like a monkey, "yeah that was all me, I broke through the barrier. If it weren't for that none of us would be here right now." Talus nodded: "He speaks the truth, he broke out of there relatively recently." Vael nodded: "I'll have to take you to the Architect, he'll be able to tell you everything that's pertinent." They saw out of the elevator door the entire underground city, it was massive but was very ocean like large aquatic creatures like giant squids and large marine reptiles swam about everywhere. Eventually they reached a very low floor and entered the study of a sophisticated man. He had blonde hair, was drinking something and had large pointy ears. It became clear after a moment that this person was a woman. Ungar laughed: "All these decoys in our world. Its nice that the real Architect finally shows her face."
The Architect set down her glass with a deliberate, quiet clink, studying them with piercing, violet eyes. The air around her was heavy—not oppressive, but commanding. Every movement, every glance, seemed designed to measure them, to weigh their intentions. "You made quite a mess upstairs," she said finally, her voice smooth, almost melodic, but with an undertone of iron. "Vael should have killed you. That he didn't say more about your destiny than your skill." The Prophet stepped forward, wary but unflinching. "We came here to understand. And to survive. Not here to gloat about our survival skills." "Good," the Architect said. "Understanding comes before survival. Survival comes before anything else." She stood, her movements fluid and precise, and crossed the room to a large wall covered in shimmering data streams, ancient texts, and living diagrams that rearranged themselves as she approached. She waved a hand, and a section magnified, revealing an intricate map of the universe or the different realms, with certain areas marked with pulsing red scars.
"The Core," she began, "was not designed for war. It was designed for containment. Thousands of years ago, forces far older than any empire you know sought to escape the boundaries of their own failed realms. Demons, yes—but not merely them. Things far worse." Hermes narrowed her eyes. "Worse than the demons?" "Demons are just soldiers," the Architect said dismissively. "Tools. The true threat is what they serve. We call it the Wound, though we call them demons out of simplicity's sake. A rupture in existence itself—not evil, not good, just... hunger without end."
Vael, standing silently behind them, finally spoke: "I was tasked to protect the Vaults, because they are locks. Keys to prisons you don't want opened." "The number of Vaults is far as human comprehension is concerned are virtually endless, many of them connect with the world of dreams and therefore the world of imagination. But these realms as far as human beings are concerned are just as real as the universe they live in. They are doorways outside of what the laymen would call space and time," said Vael. "The Core you disrupted," the Architect continued, "was stabilizing one of the largest Vaults in this sector of the universe. It's alive because it has to think faster than the entities trying to breach through."
Ungar crossed his arms. "So you're saying we almost blew the damn locks off?" "Correct," she said without hesitation. "You are fortunate. Ungar's intervention prevented a full breach. Temporarily." Narcis frowned. "Temporarily?" The Architect turned back to the map. "The Wound is growing. But it was no fault of yours to be fair, the core would have weakened in 500,000 years no matter what now the number of years has been lessened by 100,000 years because of what Ungar did, and is now down to 400,000 years until it runs out. Every time the Core flickers, the prison walls thin. Every victory you have is temporary unless we find a permanent solution." The Prophet stepped closer to the Architect, her Spirit Blade still at her hip, though she sensed no threat. "Then tell us. What is the permanent solution?" The Architect paused, letting the silence build. Then she said: "The Gods who sealed themselves away left behind weapons. Tools strong enough to heal the Wound—but also dangerous enough to destroy everything if misused. They are hidden across the Realms. Some of them you already carry without knowing. That sword was given to the first of the Gate-Keepers long before the time we're in now. His name has been lost to time but it was given to him after the death of the Prophet he followed." She turned to Ebisu, then to the Prophet herself. "You," she said quietly, "are more than a Prophet. You are a catalyst. You are not from this world at all. You and your allies are living keys."
Talus muttered, "Of course we are. That much should be clear." The Architect nodded gravely. "You must gather the remaining Seals of Origin. Only then can the Wound be closed. Only then will there be any hope of surviving what is to come." Kai stepped forward, wiping soot off his armor. "And what if we fail?" The Architect's smile was brief, sad. "Then existence folds in on itself. One Realm at a time. Until none of the realms we reside will exist anymore. Realms outside it sure, but countless over trillions of souls will be destroyed sooner or later ending life that could have been. The world is only a moment after all so if you can live with that. Than I would say give up, we have 400,000 years before these collections of sister worlds come crashing down anyway. But if you care about any variant of the future at all, I'd say to try to fight." Silence fell over the room, heavy and absolute. Outside the study's glass walls, enormous marine creatures drifted by, ancient and alien, their presence a reminder of just how small they all were in the grand design. Finally, the Prophet spoke, her voice firm. "Then we won't fail. Tell us where to start. But first if they're are more seals or Vaults than human beings can comprehend then how can we get to them all? Moreover, how long will this take?" The Architect said slowly, "You will need to retrieve the weapons from no less than 100 seals or Vaults or more if possible, and it should take about 200 years or so."
The Architect turned, tapping a sequence on the wall. A new map unfolded—one marked with three coordinates, each one pulsing with an ominous, dark light. "The first Seal," she said, "lies in the Ruins of Vezra. A dead world. Poisoned. Forgotten. You'll need more than weapons to survive it. You'll need faith. Of course you need to destroy the Demon King first, a completely different task to secure the timeline I'm aware of what you're dealing with currently, that will take about five more months." The Prophet nodded. Behind her, her team readied themselves—not with cheers, but with cold, determined purpose. War was coming. Not just against demons. Against the Wound itself. The Prophet declared: "We'll need at least a week to prepare for the next leg of our journey to fight the Demon King. We need Ebisu to destroy him if possible, no matter what the demon must be killed so I can put a seal on this moment in time." Lupus smirked and thought to himself: "Yes but it won't be Ebisu, when I kill the demon I will be one step to ruling over this world. And conquering this Wound and all of these demons as well." Without warning the Architect shouted at Lupus: "Don't be a fool Lupus! It's one thing to under-estimate the Demon King to the east but do not underestimate the creatures of the Wound." Lupus was stunned and then made angry: "Damnit, how long has she been able to read my mind?!" The Architect sat back in her chair: "Since I know about the different timelines of this realm. I guess I need to tell you about the wound… You see, millions of years ago what we call proto-humans used to live with the proto-demons in a place called the Garden of Eden. Before that time a cosmic being called Infinite created the world, the Cosmic being was a worshipper of a god unknown to it, and thus Infinite often referred to himself as the Monotheist. Infinite created the Outside-God and the Outside God created the Garden of Eden many years later. The Garden of Eden was filled by these proto-demons and proto-humans. The demons and the humans began to fight each other, some of the demons hunted the humans for food, while other humans hunted the demons for food or for survival. Another group of humans in the garden began to worship the demons as gods in order to protect themselves from the monsters. Under the Tree of the Forbidden Fruit a large beast was put to sleep and would remain there that was the being known as the Leviathan, a large fish. The demons often ate the soft flesh of the Leviathan as it slept as the skin always grew back which sustained them for many generations but they still desired human flesh. Eventually the demons became wise and conjured up a new world known today as the Wound. They would kidnap humans in the night, dragging them to this terrible world and feeding on them there." The demons gathered a large enough group of humans and began breeding farms and plantations to grow them as food there. Eventually the demons had a thriving market in the human flesh industry back in the dimension they formed. Eventually the Outside-God found out about this and banished both the humans and the demons from the garden, shattering the glass beneath their feet and throwing them all into a fallen world. The humans ended up where they did of course and the rest is history, but the demons arrived in their own world, a terrible world and began to start up their trade in flesh. Over time they through their warped desires began to create a being that would be unleashed trillions of years later if they continued down this path which would destroy them as well this being of malice's name is unknown. But the demons discovered strange magical artifacts all over this world fearing they would be used against them they hid them in a variety of other dimensions so that mortals could not turn them on demon-kind. Those are the divine relics to seal the Gates or the Vaults from the world of darkness."
Lupus smirked: "If they're afraid of a sword or a spear they can't be that strong." The Architect growled: "You're wrong, the soldiers aren't but the demons from the wound are at the weakest the strength of three universes many of them are much more powerful." Lupus growled: "You're kidding! No way!" The Architect stood, her shadow tall against the shifting light of the study. "I'm not kidding," she said, voice hard. "You see only the pawns, the lesser spawn. The true demons of the Wound are beings that even Infinite could not erase. Creatures that devour realities like embers in a fire." Ungar tightened his fists. "Then why haven't they come yet? Why send fodder after fodder?" "Because the Wound is still sealed," the Architect replied. "Barely. The spawn you fight now are echoes. Testing the strength of the locks. But when the Wound opens fully, the true lords of malice will come. And if they do..." She let the words hang there, heavy as a noose. Narcis looked grim. "Then we have to stop it before it gets that far. Please Lord Buddha spare us from such great calamities."
The Prophet turned to Lupus, eyes sharp. "This isn't about glory. Not conquest. Understand that, or walk away." Lupus sneered but said nothing. Deep down, the fear gnawed at him, colder than rage. The Architect moved to the map again, pressing another sequence. A second projection appeared: a vision of the Ruins of Vezra. An endless expanse of broken cities, clouds of venomous gas swirling over shattered towers. Shapes moved in the mist—slow, deliberate, and wrong. "The Ruins are a dead world," the Architect said. "You will find the first Seal there. But the Wound's influence has bled into Vezra. Expect resistance beyond anything you've fought before." The Architect gave a humorless smile. "If you believe that, you're already dead." The Prophet exhaled slowly. "Then we prepare. One week. Then we march to the Demon King. Our comrades back home have been doing wonders dealing with the Watchers, it's beyond annoying we have to deal with him now as well, but there's no point in complaining we'll do what we have to do."
Around her, the team nodded, the grim rhythm of soldiers who understood the cost of failure. "And Lupus," the Architect added, her voice low, sharp as broken glass, "betray us, and I will not need to read your mind to end you." Lupus gave a shallow bow, masking the fury behind his smirk. As the team dispersed to prepare for the coming war, the Architect lingered alone, staring out into the drifting abyss beyond the glass. The ancient creatures outside the study moved in slow orbits, reminders of an age when the world had been young and unmarred. "Only 400,000 years left," she whispered to herself. "Only a moment, in the eyes of eternity." And somewhere, deep in the poisoned heart of Vezra, something old and hateful stirred—waiting.