"Now that we have cleared up that misunderstanding," Seragrim said, folding his hands atop the stone table, "it is time for the real topic."
The gears embedded in the left side of his face turned slowly.
His human eye watched Xion with amusement.
His clock-like eye watched him with something far worse.
Patience.
"Are you truly in the right reality you created?"
The Library of Creation went silent.
Not quiet.
Silent.
The kind of silence that seemed to lean closer, as if every book, every shelf, every distant universe above them had paused to hear Xion's answer.
Xion sat on the black and crimson throne that had formed beneath him. His hand rested on the armrest, fingers slightly curled, crimson eyes narrowed at the strange man across from him.
Above them stretched a ceiling that was not truly a ceiling.
Galaxies swirled overhead. Stars burned in impossible colors. Some lights moved like living creatures between cosmic currents, while others looked less like suns and more like eyes pretending to be far away.
The Library of Creation was endless.
Shelves stretched beyond sight, carrying books made from leather, metal, crystal, bone, flame, water, shadow, and starlight. Some books whispered. Some breathed. Some had chains wrapped around them. Others floated freely as if the rules of gravity had politely stepped aside.
On the table between them lay a book titled False Reality.
Its pages were open.
Its ink had stopped moving.
Xion stared at Seragrim.
"What do you mean by the right reality I created?"
Seragrim did not answer immediately.
He simply studied him.
Then he sighed.
"You really do not understand what you are."
Xion's face went blank.
"That is not an answer."
"No," Seragrim admitted. "But it is the root of every answer you are about to hate."
"That is also not helpful."
"It was not meant to be comforting."
"Wonderful."
Seragrim leaned back in his chair. The stone beneath him shifted, forming the symbol of a clock devouring its own hands.
"To a mortal, creation seems simple. A writer imagines. A writer writes. A world is born in ink and thought."
His clock-eye rotated once.
"But what if the writer did not invent the world?"
Xion's expression sharpened.
"What?"
"What if he remembered it?" Seragrim asked. "What if he recorded something that already existed somewhere beyond his reach? What if the story came to him because something wanted a door opened?"
The Library shuddered faintly.
A few distant books turned their pages without being touched.
"What if Heaven Does Not Claim was never only fiction?"
Xion did not speak.
The name of the novel pressed against him like a ghost's hand.
Heaven Does Not Claim.
The story Kiryuu Amuka had written. The world Xion Trinity had awakened in. A world that now refused to obey its own outline.
Seragrim watched the boy's face carefully.
Inside his mind, the Leecher of Reality sighed.
This child has absolutely no idea what he is doing.
A creator inside his own creation.
A corpse inside a child.
A False God Candidate who should not have awakened yet.
His existence alone causes fractured continuities to breed like broken mirrors.
Past, future, places that have yet to exist, and realities that were never meant to separate from the original narrative are beginning to pull away.
Paradox universes.
False realities.
Narratives born from errors.
And he thinks he merely transmigrated.
Seragrim almost laughed.
Almost.
But there was nothing funny about a misplaced existence becoming the center of a collapsing story.
Xion rested his elbow on the table and placed his chin against his palm.
"So what are you really asking?"
Seragrim tapped the table.
The surface became black glass.
Two images formed inside it.
In the first, Xion saw himself standing beneath a cracked halo. Red-black authority coiled around his body like smoke from a dying star. Behind him were pieces of the Trinity Family's history: Aura kneeling in the rain, the red dragon's eye, the False God Territory, the Genesis Crystal, and the book of the Trinity Family reduced to six pages.
Seragrim pointed to the image.
"In one continuity, Xion Trinity becomes the False God Candidate."
The second image appeared.
This Xion was older.
Colder.
He stood before twelve divine symbols, but none of them shone upon him. The symbols seemed to recoil, as if his very existence refused their authority.
There was no cracked halo above him.
No stolen throne.
No imitation of divinity.
Only rejection.
A refusal so absolute that even the gods looked wounded by it.
Seragrim pointed to the second image.
"In another continuity, Xion Trinity becomes the Rejecter of Gods."
Xion stared at the two images.
The words sank into him.
False God Candidate.
Rejecter of Gods.
Two paths.
Two versions.
Two stories that both felt possible.
"What is the difference?" he asked.
Seragrim smiled faintly.
"A False God seeks recognition. It imitates, steals, contradicts, devours, and forces reality to accept a lie as truth."
The cracked halo in the first image flickered.
"The Rejecter of Gods does not steal a throne."
The second image brightened.
"He denies that the throne has the right to judge him at all."
Xion's fingers tightened beneath his chin.
"He does not become a god?"
"No."
Seragrim's expression became serious.
"He becomes what gods cannot claim."
The Library trembled.
Xion felt the words settle inside his Authority Core, not as knowledge, but as a seed.
A dangerous seed.
Everything he had experienced since awakening in this world rearranged itself in his mind.
The War of Liberation existed when it should not have.
The Southern Kingdom had moved too early.
The Genesis Crystal had chosen him too soon.
The Characters of Fate had recorded his awakening six years later.
Staria Zodia had reached him through the Astral Pathway across impossible distance.
The Numinas knew more than they said.
Yang Numina.
Yin Numina.
The False God Territory.
The baby-blue gate.
The mural of the red dragon devouring the world while protecting a girl.
Aura Trinity.
The Soul of Misfortune.
The dragon eye in mirrors.
Xion's thoughts darkened.
Were the Transcenders guiding him?
Protecting him?
Or pushing him into a path chosen before he even understood the board?
He looked at Seragrim.
"If what you're saying is true, then the story I know is already a lie."
Seragrim's mouth curved slightly.
"Not entirely."
"That is somehow worse."
"Most truths are."
Xion leaned back in the throne.
"So which reality am I in?"
Seragrim's snarky expression vanished.
For a moment, the man across from him no longer looked like an eccentric higher-dimensional librarian with too many titles and not enough normal hobbies.
He looked old.
Old enough to have watched the first wrong choice teach the universe how to regret.
"You are helping an enemy stop a catastrophic event that was supposed to begin your real story."
The words hit the table between them like a blade.
Xion's eyes narrowed.
"And what catastrophe would that be?"
Seragrim's clock-eye stopped turning.
"You are going to have to continue this False Reality to find out."
Xion stared at him.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"That is the most irritating answer you could have given me."
"I considered several others."
"I hate all of them retroactively."
"Understandable."
Xion glanced down at the book titled False Reality.
"What about my trial?"
Seragrim raised one hand.
Two hardcover books fell from the darkness above and landed on the table with heavy thuds.
One was white and silver, its cover marked with a spiral arrow turning backward.
Regression.
The other was black and crimson, its cover marked by a shattered divine symbol split through the center.
Rejection.
Xion looked at them carefully.
The books did not feel like ordinary objects.
They felt like choices someone had given shape.
Regression smelled like rain, old ink, grief, and repeated endings.
Rejection smelled like iron, smoke, broken chains, and a door slammed in the face of divinity.
Seragrim gestured toward them.
"Take these."
Xion did not touch them.
"What are they?"
"Continuity anchors."
"That means nothing to me."
"It means they will help you remember disruptions in your story and resist forces trying to overwrite your identity."
Xion's gaze lowered to the titles again.
"Regression and Rejection."
"Fitting, yes?"
"Annoyingly."
Seragrim smiled.
"The moment you absorb them, you will be able to return to the world currently holding your body and continue as the character you are now."
Xion's eyes sharpened.
"Currently holding my body."
"Would you prefer I lie?"
"No."
"Then yes."
Before Xion could respond, Seragrim lifted a finger.
"But there is one more."
The Library darkened.
A third book appeared in front of Xion's face.
It did not fall.
It manifested.
Suspended in the air.
Its cover was dark red, wrapped in black chains made from mist. Jagged symbols crawled across it, constantly changing shape, as if the book could not decide which language deserved to fear it most.
Red miasma spilled from its edges.
Not corruption.
Judgment.
Sinister.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Xion felt his Spiritual Authority Core react.
Clock ticked inside him.
Not warning.
Recognition.
Seragrim's voice softened.
"An offer from the lady herself."
Xion looked at him.
"The lady?"
Seragrim only smiled.
"That tells me nothing."
"It tells you she is a lady."
"You are insufferable."
"I have polished the skill."
Xion turned back to the book.
Every instinct told him not to touch it.
Unfortunately, Xion was beginning to notice that instincts in this world often arrived at the exact same time as plot hooks.
He grabbed the book.
The chains shattered.
Red miasma exploded outward.
Xion's eyes widened.
His irises became black, split by jagged red lines that burned like cracks in molten glass.
The Library vanished.
He saw a world covered in purple stars.
The sky was broken.
Red mist crawled over the land like a living curse.
It was not ordinary fog. It carried the weight of displaced souls.
Transmigration.
Not blessing.
Not miracle.
A curse.
Souls torn from one world and planted into another.
Stories invaded by people who were not meant to exist inside them.
Xion saw himself standing among nine others.
Ten figures.
Ten anomalies.
Ten people pulled into the same cosmic wound.
Some carried weapons.
Some wore crowns.
Some had eyes empty from too many repeated lives.
Some looked heroic.
Others looked like monsters who had learned to stand upright and smile.
He saw himself older.
He saw blood on his hands.
He saw a battlefield beneath purple stars.
He saw someone he loved.
The warmth of that love reached him for one impossible second.
Then it was gone.
Lost.
Torn away.
The pain that followed made his chest feel hollow.
The vision shifted again.
A world covered in flames.
Cities falling.
Divine Pathways cracking.
Beast Origins roaring beneath broken skies.
Candidates dying before reaching their thrones.
Lost Souls flooding streets like humanity's sins had finally learned how to walk in armies.
The False God Pathway blooming over creation like a black flower.
And somewhere above all of it, a feminine voice whispered: Judge what remains.
Xion collapsed.
His body struck the Library floor.
The book forced itself into him.
Not into his hand.
Not into his mind.
Into his existence.
His Authority Core screamed.
The Library of Creation trembled.
Shelves groaned.
Books burst open.
The galaxy-ceiling above cracked with thin white fractures.
Somewhere in the higher layers of the Library, Imaginary Time split.
Imaginary Time was not the time mortals understood.
Real time flowed in a line from past to future.
Imaginary Time ran perpendicular to it, a higher-dimensional layer where events did not wait their turn. Past, present, future, and unrealized possibility existed simultaneously, stacked like transparent pages.
A mortal mind that truly perceived it would break instantly.
Xion did not fully perceive it.
He endured the reflection of it.
That was enough to feel like being thrown into the sun.
Heat surged through him.
His blood burned.
His bones felt filled with white fire.
His thoughts stretched too far, touched too many endings, and snapped back one by one.
My body feels so hot…
He dug his fingers into the stone floor.
I can see everything.
No.
Not see.
Feel.
I can feel the pain of the Apocalypse.
Visions struck him in fragments. Chanda beneath a golden dome. A Lost Soul screaming under a broken blade. Staria reaching across the Astral Pathway. Venus covered in blood. Sean kneeling inside a ruined cathedral.
Audrey roaring beneath a battlefield moon, her War Lion pressure ripping through a horde of monsters.
Celina crying over a book whose pages had been erased.
Jason holding a staff beneath an Earth sky torn apart by dungeon cracks.
Aura Trinity standing before six descending beings.
The red dragon opening one eye.
Then almost opening the other.
Xion gasped.
The red book dissolved into light and sank into his chest.
The pain stopped.
Not slowly.
All at once.
The sudden absence hurt too.
Then a young feminine voice spoke inside his head.
[Congratulations on absorbing me, Master.]
Xion froze.
[My name is Will Breaker.]
The red light inside him wrapped around his Authority Core without merging fully into it.
[A Chaos Key of Judgment. One of the Three Ancient Keys of Eldrich.]
Xion pushed himself up slowly, one hand pressed against the floor.
Telepathy…?
No.
Not exactly.
The voice was not entering his mind from outside.
It was speaking from within his spirit.
Like an artifact with a soul.
Or a soul forged into a verdict.
'A Chaos Key?' Xion thought. 'How is that possible?'
[Anything is possible in the Library of Creation.]
'Library of Creation,' Xion repeated. 'What exactly is this place?'
[It is…]
The voice paused.
'What?'
[Your brain cannot comprehend its full existence. Attempting to force the information into you would damage your soul, rupture your Spiritual Authority Core, and possibly turn your thoughts into decorative paste.]
Xion stared at nothing.
'That was disturbingly specific.'
[I am being considerate.]
'Are you?'
[By my standards.]
The red glow gathered before him.
It condensed into a body.
A young girl appeared in front of Xion, landing lightly on bare feet. She looked near his age, though her presence felt far older than her face. She wore a fantasy-style fighting gi with loose pants and wrapped forearms, while a black fitted shirt covered her chest beneath the open upper layer.
Her hair was dark with red streaks.
Her eyes carried jagged red lines like the ones that had just burned through Xion's irises.
She leaned forward, studying him closely.
"You do look like him," she said.
Xion, still half-braced against the throne, slowly looked up.
"Like who?"
Will Breaker tilted her head.
"A bit younger. And your hair has black on the left side."
"That did not answer my question."
"I know."
Xion stared at her.
She stared back.
Then her gaze shifted behind him.
She saw Seragrim.
Her expression immediately soured.
"Why is this creep here?"
Seragrim placed one hand over his chest.
"Wounded."
"Good."
Xion glanced between them.
"You two know each other?"
"Unfortunately," Will Breaker said.
Seragrim smiled.
"She has never appreciated my charm."
"You once tried to sell a dying universe a pocket watch."
"It was an excellent pocket watch."
"It had teeth."
"Functional teeth."
Xion raised one hand.
"I regret being here."
Will Breaker crossed her arms.
"Get used to it."
"No."
"You are stubborn."
"I keep being rewarded for it."
"That will become a problem."
Xion's eyes narrowed.
"Let's ask the audience. Maybe they know why everyone around me is terrible at explaining things."
Seragrim and Will Breaker both froze.
"What?" they asked at the same time.
Xion looked between them.
"What?"
Will Breaker slowly covered her face with one hand.
Yep.
They are alike.
This one has not reached his true conflict yet, but the shape is there.
For now, I will guide him toward Morningstar.
Xion frowned.
"I felt that thought."
Will Breaker lowered her hand.
"You did not hear it?"
"No. But it felt suspicious."
"You are very annoying."
"People keep telling me that."
"Then stop."
"No."
Seragrim chuckled.
Both of them turned toward him.
"What's so funny?" Xion asked, unamused.
Seragrim stood from his chair.
"Nothing. You simply remind me of my life back in the old days."
Will Breaker's eyes sharpened.
"Do not start reminiscing."
"I was not going to."
"You absolutely were."
"I was preparing a tasteful anecdote."
"No."
Xion sighed.
"Can we go back to the part where I survive this insane library?"
Seragrim nodded.
"Of course. It is time for you to return."
Xion looked down at the two remaining books.
Regression.
Rejection.
"What about these?"
"Absorb them," Seragrim said. "They were prepared for this branch."
"That still sounds unsafe."
"It is."
"Your honesty is becoming exhausting."
Will Breaker stepped beside him.
"You need them. Regression will allow you to remember continuity disruptions, resets, altered branches, and events that should not align. Rejection will help defend your identity against gods, false authorities, Numinas interference, and anything trying to overwrite your role."
Xion's expression hardened.
"Numinas interference?"
Will Breaker did not answer.
That was an answer.
Xion placed his hand on Regression.
The book dissolved into silver-white light.
Cold memories flowed through him.
Not memories of events he had lived.
Memories of patterns.
Endings reversing.
Choices repeating.
Worlds folding backward.
People dying and returning with haunted eyes.
Regret sharpened into knowledge.
The light entered his Authority Core.
Then Xion touched Rejection.
Black and crimson energy burst upward.
For an instant, twelve divine symbols towered above him like judges. The energy formed a blade. Not to kill them. To deny their right to claim him.
The book dissolved.
The second light entered him.
Clock ticked once.
Then twice.
The throne beneath him stabilized.
Will Breaker nodded.
"The trial will be over once we return. Your existence is too anomalous for the Sanctum of Code to process normally. It attempted to test you through False Reality, but your Authority Core dragged in higher-dimensional interference."
Xion stared.
"Meaning?"
"As long as you remain inside this False Reality, the enemy gains more threads around you. Stay too long and you become easier to puppet."
"Enemy," Xion repeated quietly.p
Seragrim and Will Breaker both went silent.
Xion looked from one to the other.
"Who is the enemy?"
Will Breaker's expression turned cold.
"A force that uses realities as cages and stories as leashes."
Seragrim added, "A force that benefits whenever you mistake a false continuity for home."
Jason's face flashed through Xion's mind.
His brother smiling.
His brother alive.
His brother holding a staff against a monster in a world that might exist somewhere.
Xion's chest tightened.
"So that version of my brother…"
Will Breaker's voice softened slightly.
"May exist. May have existed. May become possible. But chasing him here would give the enemy a hook through your heart."
Xion closed his eyes.
Grief moved inside him like a slow knife.
He did not get rid of it.
He could not.
He simply forced himself to breathe around it.
"Fine."
Seragrim lifted one hand.
Light gathered above the table.
Xion opened his eyes.
"One more question."
Seragrim smiled.
"Only one?"
"For now."
"Merciful."
"If this world might not be the one I created, then what am I supposed to do?"
Seragrim's smile became faint.
"Live long enough to discover which parts are lies."
"That is terrible advice."
"It is accurate advice."
Will Breaker glanced at Xion.
"And gather pieces."
Xion looked at her.
"Pieces?"
"Allies. Enemies. Keys. Names. Memories. Proofs. The enemy has already placed pieces on the board."
Xion's gaze darkened.
Pieces.
He disliked that word.
People were not pieces.
At least, they should not be.
But this world had already placed Sean, Venus, Celina, Audrey, Staria, the Southern Kingdom, the Cathedral, and the Transcenders into motion.
Someone had made a board.
Someone had moved him onto it.
Xion's lips curved into a faint smile.
Not kind.
Not cruel.
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
"Then I'll learn the game."
Will Breaker watched him carefully.
Inside his Spiritual Authority Core, she felt the first dangerous shift in him.
This world is a chess game, she thought. But he must not become the kind of player who forgets his pieces are alive.
Not if I can prevent it.
Seragrim's clock-eye rotated backward.
The light flashed.
Xion closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he stood inside the small cathedral beneath Midnight Lore's library.
The candles burned white.
Golden light poured through the stained-glass dome above the altar.
William stood before him with the ritual book open in both hands.
Celina stood nearby, concern carved into her face.
Audrey had her lance unfolded, its blade lowered but ready, her magenta eyes narrowed in suspicion.
To them, only a few seconds had passed.
To Xion, it felt as though he had walked through several lives and returned with smoke in his lungs.
His body glowed faintly.
Not with William's pure golden blessing.
Something stranger.
Red-black light circled by thin silver-white rings.
A translucent message appeared before his eyes.
It was not a normal status window.
It was his Authority Core translating a higher-dimensional record into something his mind could survive reading.
[Blessing of the Rejecter obtained.]
[Identity Anchor strengthened.]
[False Reality resistance increased.]
[Regression Anchor absorbed.]
[Rejection Anchor absorbed.]
[Chaos Key of Judgment: Will Breaker bound.]
Xion blinked once.
The message vanished.
On his left hand, three miniature book symbols appeared like brands beneath the skin.
Regression.
Rejection.
Will Breaker.
Celina stepped forward carefully.
"Xion?"
He flexed his fingers.
His expression remained calm.
Too calm.
"I'm fine."
Audrey's gaze dropped to his marked hand.
"That is not what fine looks like."
"Fine has many forms."
"Most of them don't glow."
William closed the ritual book slowly.
His face was pale, but he managed a brief smile.
"Congratulations," the priest said. "You completed the blessing."
Xion looked at him.
"And the trial?"
William hesitated.
Audrey answered instead.
"You survived it."
"That was not my question."
"No," Audrey said. "But it is the answer you are getting until we know what happened."
Xion stared at her.
Audrey stared back.
Inside his Spiritual Authority Core, Will Breaker's voice spoke quietly.
[That priest.]
Xion did not move.
'What about him?'
[I sensed unusual energy deep within him.]
Xion's gaze shifted slightly toward William.
The priest's aura still looked pure.
Golden.
Steady.
But now, beneath that purity, Xion noticed something else.
A hidden rhythm.
Like a locked room beneath a chapel.
Not corruption.
Not exactly.
Something sealed.
Something waiting.
'Enough,' Xion thought. 'This reality already has too many cracks. We ignore it for now.'
[Ignoring suspicious holy men rarely ends well.]
'I said for now.'
Will Breaker went silent, but Xion could feel her disapproval burning like a small judgmental furnace inside him.
Xion turned from the altar.
"So I'm an official member of Midnight Lore now?"
Celina gave him a weak smile.
"Technically."
Xion stared.
"Technically?"
Audrey lifted her lance onto her shoulder.
"You passed the door. That gets you inside. You still need training, clearance, field evaluation, Sanctum review, and my approval."
"Your approval sounds like the most dangerous part."
"It is."
"At least you are honest."
Audrey grinned.
"Come on, brat."
The chapel doors opened.
Beyond them waited the vibrant corridor that led back toward the underground base and the stairwell to the public library above.
Xion walked forward.
His body's glow slowly faded, but the marks on his left hand remained.
Regression.
Rejection.
Judgment.
Every step through the corridor felt different now.
The colorful walls no longer seemed decorative.
They watched.
The floating lanterns no longer seemed gentle.
They judged.
When Xion passed beneath the lantern marked by a cracked halo, it flickered red.
Then black.
Then disappeared.
Celina noticed.
Audrey noticed.
Neither spoke.
At the end of the corridor, Xion reached the bronze-colored doorknob.
Beyond it were the stairs leading upward.
Normal library.
Normal shelves.
Normal sunlight through stained glass.
Normal lies.
Xion placed his hand on the knob.
Then froze.
Pressure seeped through the wood.
Dread.
Heavy and cold.
His body fought the urge to kneel.
Clock ticked in his chest.
Will Breaker stirred.
[Something is waiting.]
'Helpful.'
[You are welcome.]
Xion gathered his breath and turned the knob.
The door opened.
The stairs stretched upward, dim lanterns barely illuminating the dark wooden steps. Celina followed behind him. Audrey remained last, lance still unfolded.
With each step, the pressure increased.
Xion's crimson eyes gleamed faintly.
Not with fear.
With focus.
At the final step, he paused before the door to Livingston Archives.
The pressure was strongest here.
It curled beneath the door like invisible smoke.
Xion pushed it open.
The library waited beyond.
Shelves.
Tables.
Sunlight.
Dust.
The smell of paper and polished wood.
And near the center of the room stood a young woman with beautiful blonde hair.
Her eyes were gold.
Not ordinary gold.
Star-gold.
Filled with constellations so rare they did not belong to any sky Xion remembered.
She wore formal riding attire: a fitted coat, gloves, polished boots, and a short cloak embroidered with silver stars.
She was not fully there.
Xion noticed immediately.
Her outline shimmered at the edges, as if starlight had been shaped into a human body.
No ordinary mana flowed from her.
Instead, she felt like a constellation reflected in water.
An Astral projection.
Audrey stepped forward from behind him, her expression sharper than usual.
"Oh," she said. "You finished your trial."
Xion gave a soft nod, never taking his eyes off the girl.
Audrey glanced between them.
"Since apparently everyone wants to be dramatic today, I'll explain. This is Staria Zodia of Fea, also called Luminous Staria by the Celestial Shrine. Star God Candidate. Astral Pathway. Currently projecting herself into my library without permission."
Staria gave a small, polite smile.
"My apologies."
Audrey's eyes narrowed.
"Do it again and I am charging rent."
Xion stared at Staria.
The name struck something in him.
A holy moon.
A palace.
A banquet.
A door opening into a ruined future.
A girl who was not only Staria.
Annabelle.
His eyes narrowed.
Staria looked at him with the same intense recognition.
"Nice to meet you," Xion said slowly. "My name is Xion—"
"Trinity," Staria finished.
The library quieted.
Xion's expression remained calm, but his heartbeat rang loudly in his ears.
Staria leaned forward slightly.
Her smile was innocent.
Too innocent.
"I know all about your family."
Her golden eyes shimmered.
"Especially about you."
Celina looked between them.
Audrey's grip on her lance tightened.
Xion's voice remained calm.
"Do you?"
Staria's projection flickered.
"Yes."
Then her smile shifted
Not cruel.
Not kind.
Knowing.
Afraid.
Excited.
"The child of apocalypse," she whispered.
Xion's eyes sharpened.
Staria spoke the next name carefully, as if each word carried a curse.
"Xion Trinity Pendragon."
The world seemed to stop.
Xion did not move.
Celina inhaled sharply.
Audrey's magenta eyes narrowed.
Inside Xion's Spiritual Authority Core, Will Breaker went deathly still.
Then she gritted her teeth.
[No.]
Xion's thoughts turned toward her.
'You know that name.'
Will Breaker did not answer.
Her silence was enough.
Staria watched him closely.
"So it's true," she said softly. "You don't know yet."
Xion's gaze darkened.
"Know what?"
Before Staria could answer, the light around her projection distorted.
For one instant, something appeared behind her.
Not inside the library.
Behind the projection itself.
In another layer of the Astral connection.
A shadowed figure.
Its face was hidden.
Its presence made Will Breaker's red aura flare violently inside Xion's soul.
Staria's eyes widened.
She had not expected it either.
Will Breaker's voice became colder than winter iron.
[Zero.]
Xion's pulse skipped.
'Who is Zero?'
Again, she did not answer.
The shadow behind Staria tilted its head.
Then vanished.
Staria's projection flickered violently. She grabbed her chest as if something had hooked her from the other side and begun pulling.
"My connection is breaking."
Audrey stepped forward.
"Princess."
Staria looked at Xion one last time.
Her golden eyes were no longer playful.
They were afraid.
"Do not trust every guide who claims to be protecting your story."
Xion froze.
The projection cracked.
"And whatever you do…"
Her voice distorted.
"Do not let the red dragon open both eyes."
The starlight shattered.
Staria vanished.
The library returned to stillness.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then Audrey slowly turned toward Xion.
"Brat."
Xion looked at her.
"What did you do?"
Xion stared at the empty space where Staria had been.
Inside his chest, Clock ticked.
Will Breaker remained silent.
The three marks on his left hand burned faintly.
Regression.
Rejection.
Judgment.
Xion's lips curled into a small, tired smile.
"I completed a blessing."
Audrey's eyes narrowed.
"That is the worst explanation I have ever heard."
"Then you should hear the full version."
Celina swallowed.
"Will it make things clearer?"
Xion turned toward the nearest window.
For a moment, his reflection showed a cracked halo above his head.
Behind it, deep within the glass, a red dragon eye opened halfway.
"No," Xion said.
The eye vanished.
"It will probably make everything worse."