Then he arrived.
Not with ceremony. Not with thunder.
Just silence — the kind so absolute it swallowed even thought. The air held its breath, time hesitated, and meaning itself seemed to falter.
He didn't walk. Didn't float. He simply was — where he had not been a moment before.
Tharos — the Machine-Scribe.
A figure forged not of flesh or bone, but of mirrored plates and rotating geometric lattices. His form shimmered with shifting diagrams, gears of light, constellations stitched together by logic and code. Where others wore expressions, Tharos bore equations. He was not dressed — he was constructed.
Julianne rose slowly from her seat. Her spine was a pillar of poise.
Her voice — composed, low — slipped out like a practiced breath.
Julianne: "Machine-Scribe."
No awe. No surprise. Just familiarity. Respectful — but not reverent.
Tharos turned to her first.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED
>[Julianne Hepburn Aetheryn]
>Status: Princess of the Aetheryn Lineage
>System: Class B - Refined Structure
>Soul Rank: Intermediate Anchor
>Divine Permission Threshold: Acceptable
Current Deviation: 0.004%
Then his lattice shifted — and he turned to me.
And paused.
No data. No motion. Just… pause.
Then:
ERROR: Undefined Dual-Soul Anchor
>Host: [Shane Noah CrimsonBlade]
>Primary Identity: Shane Noah CrimsonBlade
>Secondary Identity: Itsuki Kengo
>Status: Half-bound Soullink Detected
>Anchor-Class: Unregistered
>Note: Soul-thread weaving exceeds sanctioned divine parameters.
Tharos: "Anomaly exceeds projected variance."
He raised one hand, lines of golden code spiraling from his fingers, forming luminous runes midair. Between us, a system interface materialized — not clean, not whole, but fractured.
A ghost of something once powerful. A skeleton of lost memory.
Tharos: "System status: memory loss. Not terminated. Root access: unavailable. Reconstruction: possible — under divine review."
Itsuki stirred within me.
Tharos tilted slightly — not in reaction, but in acknowledgment.
Tharos: "You are aware."
Itsuki (internally): "Yes. I've been trying to restore what I could… but I lack the framework. Too much is gone."
Julianne remained silent. Watching. As if this were all expected.
I suddenly understood why she could stay calm — reincarnators. Their souls were different. Brighter. Stronger. Closer to divine. Maybe that's why she could speak to him as an equal. Why she stood composed in the presence of a god.
I, on the other hand, felt like my blood had turned to static.
Tharos: "Unauthorized synchronization triggered cascade scan. Full investigation required."
He turned back to me.
Tharos: "Your vessel is stable. Physical integrity: optimal. Core rejection… is a side effect. Not of absence — but of entanglement. One body. Two anchors. Improper alignment renders traditional scanning void. Raphael failed… because you exist outside expected definitions."
He tilted his head again — not confused, but curious.
Tharos: "Soul-thread control is not within divine jurisdiction. It should not exist. It is… unprecedented."
Itsuki: "Glad to be special."
Tharos: "Incorrect. You are not special. You are exceptional. Exceptions must be explained. Resolved. Or corrected."
He conjured a cube of light — fragments of a shattered system interface floated within, twitching like memories trapped in data. Half-erased, partly restored. Incomplete.
Tharos: "These fragments have been salvaged from your previous structure. They will be reviewed by the Council of Divine Scribes."
I swallowed hard.
Shane: "Wait. Are we… in danger?"
Tharos: "Review is not judgment. No execution order has been issued. Deletion… was proposed. But overridden. Curiosity outweighs elimination."
Julianne spoke up for the first time since his descent.
Julianne: "The gods never act without purpose."
Tharos said nothing. But he paused. His body stilled, the glow of his runes dimming slightly — as if observing something deeper.
Itsuki: "…You didn't come just to investigate a system malfunction, did you?"
A distant hum echoed through the room. Behind Tharos, diagrams shifted — recursive logic loops layered in divine encryption.
Tharos: "Your existence implies instability in greater systems. If you exist… then others might. If others exist, balance fails. That cannot be ignored."
The silence that followed was heavy.
We weren't just anomalies. We were proof.
Proof of something wrong.
Something buried.
Something the gods didn't expect.
Shane: "Then… what happens now?"
Tharos: "I relay data. The Council will convene. Consensus will determine next action. If approved, you will be addressed directly."
He paused one last time.
Tharos: "Until then… survive."
His form collapsed — not shattering, not fading, but deconstructing — into pure golden script. The words scattered into the air, humming with divine code, then vanished without sound.
No warmth.
No farewell.
Just… absence.
Julianne slumped into her seat for the first time since this began.
Julianne: "Well. You've just gotten the attention of the god who records everything. That's either a blessing…"
She exhaled long and slow.
Julianne: "…or a warning."
I didn't answer.
Because in that moment, my mind was already overflowing.
The gods are watching.
The system is watching.
And the story?
It's only just beginning.
And if I'm being honest…
…I think my head might explode.