Tomas didn't move.
He just stared at Aren.
Waiting.
Hoping.
"…Say it again," Tomas said quietly.
Aren frowned.
"Say what?"
The words landed heavier than anything else.
Tomas's grip tightened against the ground.
"…My name," he said.
Silence.
Aren opened his mouth—
Nothing came out.
Not hesitation.
Not confusion.
Absence.
The threads around them pulsed.
Soft.
Watching.
"…I don't—" Aren stopped.
Tomas let out a hollow breath.
"…Yeah," he said.
Not surprised.
Just—
Confirmed.
Aren stepped forward.
"I know you," he said. "I just—"
"Don't," Tomas snapped.
The word cut sharper than any blade.
"Don't pretend," he continued, voice shaking. "You did this."
Aren didn't deny it.
Because he couldn't.
Because it was true.
The leader of the Anak ng Digmaan stepped closer—but still kept his distance.
"You stabilized him," he said. "That's more than most can do."
Tomas shot him a glare. "Stay out of this."
The man didn't react.
"He won't remember you," he continued calmly. "Not unless something anchors it."
Aren looked up sharply.
"…Anchors?"
The leader nodded once.
"Memories tied to something external," he said. "Objects. Places. Promises."
Tomas's hand moved instinctively—
To the locket around his neck.
"…Like this?" he asked.
The leader's gaze shifted briefly.
"Yes."
Silence.
Aren stared at it.
The way Tomas held it.
The way his hand didn't shake when he touched it.
"…Why do you still remember me?" Aren asked.
Tomas hesitated.
"…I don't know," he admitted.
The answer wasn't comforting.
The leader spoke again.
"You're still there," he said. "Just… fading."
Tomas laughed weakly. "That's supposed to help?"
"No," the leader said. "It's supposed to be true."
The threads pulsed again.
Stronger.
Not chaotic.
Directed.
Aren felt it.
Something had changed.
"They're watching closer," he said.
The leader nodded.
"You interfered with a thread event," he said. "That has consequences."
Tomas stood slowly.
Unsteady.
But standing.
"Then we leave," he said. "Now."
Aren didn't move.
"…Aren?"
He was staring at the threads.
They weren't just pulsing anymore.
They were—
Forming.
Lines converged ahead.
Pulling inward.
"…No," Aren said.
Tomas froze. "What?"
"It's not letting us leave."
The leader exhaled quietly.
"Of course it isn't."
The threads snapped into place.
A path.
Forced.
[THREAD DIRECTIVE: CONTINUE]
Tomas shook his head immediately. "No. We're not doing that."
The threads pulsed harder.
Closer.
Pressing.
Aren felt it in his chest.
Not pain.
Expectation.
"…We don't have a choice," he said.
Tomas stepped back.
"Yes, we do," he said. "We walk away."
Aren turned to him.
"…And go where?"
Silence.
Because there was no answer.
The world didn't let people walk away anymore.
Not from this.
Tomas looked down.
At the ground.
At his hands.
Then—
At Aren.
"…If we keep going," he said slowly, "how much of me do you lose next?"
Aren didn't respond.
Because he didn't know.
Because the answer wasn't zero.
The leader watched both of them.
Then spoke.
"There's another option."
They both looked at him.
"Separation," he said.
Tomas blinked. "…What?"
"You continue alone," the leader said to Aren. "He leaves."
"No," Aren said immediately.
Tomas hesitated.
"…Why?" he asked.
Aren didn't answer right away.
Because the reason—
Was gone.
He felt it.
That certainty.
That instinct to protect.
Still there.
But weaker.
"…Because I said so," Aren replied.
It sounded hollow.
Even to him.
Tomas looked away.
"…That's not enough anymore."
The words didn't hurt.
They should have.
But something dulled them.
The threads pulsed again.
Impatient.
The leader stepped back.
"Decide quickly," he said. "It won't wait."
Aren looked at Tomas.
Really looked.
Trying to hold onto something that kept slipping.
"…You can go," Aren said.
The words felt wrong.
But they came out anyway.
"You'll live longer."
Tomas laughed.
A short, broken sound.
"…You don't even know me anymore," he said.
Aren didn't deny it.
"…But I know enough," he said.
Silence.
Then—
Tomas reached up.
Slowly.
He pulled the locket from his neck.
And stepped forward.
Aren tensed.
"What are you doing?"
Tomas didn't answer.
He grabbed Aren's hand—
and pressed the locket into it.
"Then remember this instead," Tomas said.
The threads surged.
Violently.
[MEMORY ANCHOR DETECTED]
Aren froze.
The moment his skin touched the locket—
Something snapped into place.
Not fully.
Not cleanly.
But enough.
A laugh.
A voice.
"…You said two hours."
Aren's breath caught.
"Tomas," he said.
This time—
It stayed.
Tomas exhaled shakily.
"…Good," he whispered.
The threads pulsed harder.
Reacting.
Rejecting.
The leader's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…That shouldn't work," he muttered.
But it did.
For now.
The path ahead twisted.
Changing.
Adjusting.
Adapting.
Aren closed his hand around the locket.
Tight.
"…We're not separating," he said.
Tomas nodded.
Not smiling.
But steady.
"Then we move," he said.
The threads shifted forward.
Waiting.
Hungry.
And deeper within the city—
Something changed direction.
Not toward the strongest.
Not toward the loudest.
But toward something far more dangerous.
A bond that refused to break.
[ANOMALY DETECTED]
[THREAD RESPONSE: ADAPTATION INITIATED]
And for the first time—
The system didn't feel like it was guiding them.
It felt like it was correcting them.