The next morning, the city stirred with rumors of a disturbance deep beneath the roots of the old arcane rail lines. Some said an ancient monster had awakened. Others claimed a terrorist cell had clashed with government agents. But the truth never reached the surface.
Because the Veiled Order saw to it.
Kade stood outside the forge ruins with Caela, Aurelle, and Lira. The ground had stopped shaking, but the world itself felt… thinner. Fragile. Like glass webbed with cracks.
"Something's changed," Aurelle said quietly.
Caela nodded. "The Harrower's death echoed. You felt it too?"
Kade said nothing. He had barely slept. Visions haunted him—fragments of impossible places, battles he'd never fought, people he'd never met. Every time he blinked, the Vergepiercer vibrated like it was remembering.
Remembering for him.
Lira tapped her pistol against her thigh. "So what now? We killed a god-eating timeline beast. Don't we get a break?"
"You get a target on your back," a cold voice said.
They all turned.
A man stood at the edge of the ruin—cloaked in flowing navy robes, skin like polished stone, eyes aglow with data-streams. He held a staff made of raw Aetherglass. Its tip pulsed with code sigils.
Caela stiffened. "Arch-Deacon Volen."
He smiled thinly. "You've attracted the interest of the Citadel."
Kade narrowed his eyes. "Citadel?"
"The Eternal Citadel. Rulers of the Anchorpoint Nexus. They monitor deviations. You've caused quite a few."
"By surviving?" Lira asked.
"No," Volen said. "By killing something you were not meant to remember."
Caela stepped forward, shielding Kade subtly. "He acted in defense. The Harrower breached protocol."
"Protocol means little," Volen said, pacing. "That creature was marked for containment, not erasure. Now, equilibrium falters."
Kade gritted his teeth. "I'm not going to apologize for surviving."
"Good," Volen said. "Because survival won't save you now."
He raised his staff.
A flare of compressed null-space energy arced toward Kade. Aurelle leapt in front of him, casting a reflective seal mid-air. The bolt struck it, exploding into ripples that shattered windows across the district.
Caela shouted, "Volen! He's not ready!"
Volen didn't blink. "Then he dies clean."
Lira fired. The bullets twisted mid-air—then stopped. Frozen in time.
Volen's eyes gleamed. "Temporal filtration. You'll need better tricks."
Kade stepped forward. "You want me? Then fight me."
A hum rose from the Vergepiercer. It shimmered, absorbing residual anomalies, its form shifting slightly.
Volen paused.
"Ah… it's begun," he said softly. "The blade is evolving."
Aurelle looked shocked. "Evolving?"
"It's remembering too much," Volen murmured. "Be careful, boy. That sword was not forged. It was compiled. And it only chooses fragments that serve its future."
He turned to leave.
Lira stepped in front of him, guns up again. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I've seen what I need," Volen said. "You've chosen the path. The Citadel will react."
Caela called after him, "And if we don't back down?"
He paused, just once, and looked over his shoulder.
"Then you'll burn with the rest of the divergent threads."
Then he vanished.
No flash. No sound. Just… gone.
Silence.
Caela turned to Kade. "You've awakened something ancient. The Citadel's interest confirms it. That sword of yours—it's not just a weapon. It's a trigger."
Aurelle added, "And if what Volen said is true, it's learning from you. Building itself into something more."
Kade looked at the Vergepiercer.
"What if I lose control of it?" he asked.
Caela looked solemn. "Then we'll stop you. Somehow."
Lira smiled faintly. "But until then… we make sure you get strong enough not to lose."
Kade nodded, gripping the blade.
"No more running."
---
Elsewhere, beneath the Citadel Nexus…
A woman knelt in a room of infinite mirrors.
Each reflected her—but differently. Different scars. Different lives. Different Kades standing behind her in each.
She smiled.
"So… another variation awakens."
Behind her, cloaked figures watched.
"The Harrower's thread was severed," one said. "The blade responded."
"The war is coming faster than expected," said another. "Should we begin the Collapse?"
The woman stood, eyes like burning constellations.
"No," she whispered. "Let him climb a bit higher."
She turned, and on her back were the Markings of the Entwined Paths—a curse only those who had touched the end of time carried.
"I want to meet him properly… when he remembers who he truly is."
---
End of Chapter 29