Reed's body bounced for the first time.
Not by force. But by rejection.
The figure—a guardian formed from the remnants of old meaning—did not attack. But every time Reed tried to stab Adrasteia's form into the ground, a backlash erupted. A resonance… reversed. And it burned from within.
"It cannot accept our forms," Shia said, her breathing heavy. "Not because our forms are weak. But because this world refuses to be remembered."
Rina crouched behind the decaying remains of the structure, her eyes sharp. "Not the world. But the history of the fifth universe. This is where meaning is buried. Whatever lives here… is the result of wounds."
Meanwhile, Reed stood again. But this time, he did not turn on his power. He simply stared at the figure. And for a moment… they were silent.
"If this world is built from things we want to forget…" Reed whispered, "then I will be the only one who remembers everything. Even the things we don't want to remember."
He opened his arms.
