The moment the bridge erupted, every light inside the fortress dimmed.
The candles lining the chamber walls flickered violently before collapsing into darkness. Outside, thunder rolled across the mountains while crimson fractures illuminated the night sky in brief flashes of bloody light. The atmosphere had changed once again.
Everyone felt it.
The survivors gathered throughout the fortress felt it.
The guards patrolling the walls felt it.
Even the refugees who understood nothing about convergence felt it.
Something had noticed the world.
And that realization alone was enough to spread fear.
Ayan remained standing near the window, staring at the impossible silhouette beyond reality. The bridge energy covering his body pulsed continuously, spreading black and crimson patterns beneath his skin.
The sensation reminded him of Sector Seven.
Not the fear.
The recognition.
Something was trying to connect.
Something ancient.
Something waiting.
Lucien watched him carefully.
The silver-haired man's expression had become unusually serious. Gone was the amused curiosity he displayed since arriving. Gone was the confidence that made him seem untouchable.
Now he looked concerned.
Ayan honestly preferred the arrogance.
Concern felt worse.
Because concern implied danger.
Real danger.
"The bridge reacted," Lucien said quietly. His eyes never left Ayan. "That confirms it."
Nobody in the room liked those words.
Aelira folded her arms while crimson energy moved faintly beneath her skin. She remained calm on the surface, but Ayan could see the tension in her posture. Ever since the collapse of Sector Seven, she had become easier to read.
Or perhaps she had simply stopped hiding everything.
"What exactly did it confirm?" she asked.
Lucien remained silent for several moments before answering. His gaze drifted toward the fractured sky visible beyond the fortress windows. The crimson cracks seemed larger now than they had an hour ago.
Or perhaps everyone was simply paying more attention.
"It confirms that the bridge is visible."
The answer created more questions than it solved.
Ayan frowned.
"Visible to what?"
Lucien's smile returned.
Not because he found the question amusing.
Because he expected it.
"To things that shouldn't be capable of seeing it."
The room became quiet.
Ayan hated answers like that.
Unfortunately, he was beginning to notice a pattern among ancient beings.
None of them ever answered questions normally.
The Void spoke in riddles.
Cael spoke in warnings.
Lucien spoke like someone reading half a book and expecting everyone else to understand the ending.
Ayan was getting tired of it.
"Try answering like a normal person."
The statement surprised everyone.
Including Lucien.
For a brief moment, genuine amusement appeared in the silver-haired man's eyes.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
Honestly.
The sound echoed through the chamber.
"I forgot humans still do that."
"Do what?"
"Demand straightforward answers."
Ayan stared at him.
Lucien eventually stopped laughing.
His expression became serious once more.
Then he answered properly.
"The thing beyond the fractures knows you're alive."
Silence filled the room.
No complicated metaphors.
No cryptic statements.
Just a simple answer.
And somehow—
That answer felt far more terrifying.
Ayan's chest tightened slightly.
The bridge pulsed again.
Not violently.
Almost nervously.
The sensation made him uncomfortable.
Lucien noticed immediately.
"The bridge recognizes it."
The silver-haired man slowly walked toward the center of the chamber. His footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor while everyone watched him carefully.
"Do you know why the Harvesters fear convergence failure?"
Nobody answered.
Lucien didn't seem surprised.
"They fear it because convergence is predictable."
His pale eyes moved across the room.
"Predictable systems create predictable outcomes. Civilizations converge. Reality stabilizes. The Void remains contained."
A faint smile appeared.
"Simple."
The smile vanished.
"Unfortunately, reality stopped being simple a long time ago."
The bridge pulsed.
Ayan suddenly realized something.
Every conversation kept returning to the same subject.
Not the Harvesters.
Not the Void.
History.
Forgotten history.
Things that happened before modern civilization.
Things reality seemed desperate to erase.
The realization bothered him.
Because history wasn't supposed to be dangerous.
Yet somehow—
It was.
Lucien seemed to follow his thoughts.
"The world believes history moves forward."
His voice softened slightly.
"That's comforting."
Nobody interrupted.
"The past remains behind us. The future remains ahead. Cause leads to effect."
The silver-haired man looked toward the fractured sky.
"Unfortunately, reality doesn't work that way anymore."
A cold feeling settled in Ayan's stomach.
Because deep down—
He already suspected that.
The bridge anomaly project.
His own existence.
The memories from Earth's first collapse.
Everything pointed toward one conclusion.
Time wasn't as stable as humanity believed.
Lucien continued speaking.
"The kingdom I mentioned earlier didn't simply discover dimensional travel."
The atmosphere grew heavier.
"It discovered places that should not exist."
Ayan's attention sharpened immediately.
The impossible city.
The disappearing settlements.
Reality correction.
Everything connected.
Lucien slowly closed his eyes.
His expression became distant.
As though he were remembering something he wished he could forget.
"They found regions beyond history."
Nobody spoke.
The phrase itself felt wrong.
Beyond history.
Not beyond reality.
Not beyond dimensions.
History.
Ayan felt the bridge react again.
The sensation grew stronger.
Recognition.
The same feeling he experienced while standing inside the impossible city.
Lucien opened his eyes.
"The first explorers believed they had discovered paradise."
His voice carried a strange bitterness.
"They found cities untouched by time. Civilizations that had vanished everywhere else. Entire histories preserved perfectly."
The silver-haired man laughed softly.
The sound carried no humor.
"They were fools."
Outside, thunder rolled across the mountains.
The fractured sky flashed crimson.
For a brief moment, the silhouette beyond reality became visible again.
Larger.
Closer.
Watching.
Lucien continued.
"The places beyond history aren't preserved."
His gaze hardened.
"They're trapped."
Silence followed.
Ayan felt a chill run through his body.
Because suddenly—
He understood why the disappearing cities frightened Lucien.
Why reality correction existed.
Why history itself seemed unstable.
The cities weren't being destroyed.
They were being taken.
Taken somewhere.
A place beyond history.
A place where forgotten civilizations waited.
The realization settled heavily over the chamber.
Nobody looked comfortable.
Nobody should have.
Aelira finally broke the silence.
"You're saying the missing cities still exist."
Lucien nodded slowly.
"Yes."
The answer stunned everyone.
Lena looked up immediately.
Hope appeared in her eyes.
The first genuine hope since arriving at the fortress.
"My family?"
The question sounded small.
Fragile.
Lucien remained silent.
And that silence hurt more than any answer.
Lena lowered her gaze.
The hope vanished.
Ayan looked away.
Some questions didn't have good answers.
Unfortunately, reality seemed full of them lately.
The bridge pulsed again.
Harder this time.
Everyone noticed.
Ayan immediately turned toward the window.
The silhouette beyond the fractures had stopped moving.
The enormous figure remained suspended behind reality itself.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then the eyes opened wider.
The world shook.
Not the fortress.
Not the mountains.
The world.
Ayan felt it instantly.
The bridge exploded with energy.
Outside, terrified screams echoed from the courtyard.
Guards shouted warnings.
People began running.
Lucien's expression darkened.
For the first time since arriving—
He looked genuinely worried.
"That's not supposed to happen."
Nobody liked hearing that.
Especially from him.
The silver-haired man moved toward the window.
Fast.
Not physically.
One moment he stood across the room.
The next he stood beside Ayan.
His pale eyes widened slightly.
"Impossible."
The word escaped before he could stop it.
Ayan followed his gaze.
Then froze.
The silhouette beyond the fractures wasn't watching anymore.
It was smiling.