When motion returned, the world screamed.
Shockwaves rolled outward from the contact point, igniting the upper sky in auroras of black and silver flame. Entire coastlines split under pressure.
Silver Eyes felt the strain immediately.
The threads of equilibrium tethering reality were snapping one by one.
"Kaito!" she cried, forcing herself upward despite blood streaming from both eyes. "Your system is holding—but the world isn't!"
The Core began overloading against his structure. Every rotation of Kaito's internal rings shaved fragments from the sphere, refining them—but each refinement destabilized space-time around them.
Vael'Tharion's fading voice echoed like a dying god.
"You cannot contain what predates containment."
Silver Eyes closed her eyes fully.
She understood now.
Balance did not mean preservation.
It meant sacrifice.
She severed her own anchor to the physical world and poured her entire existence into the silver threads.
Her body below began dissolving into light.
The world's fractures slowed.
"Kaito," her voice echoed gently in his mind, no longer external, "I am not your support."
She wove herself into the boundary he was building.
"I am the boundary."
And the sky stabilized—barely.