Youri didn't move. His eyes were locked on Altopereh's core, on the faint glow pulsing inside it like a heartbeat buried beneath layers of silence. The wind brushed past him, tugging at his cloak and carrying dust across the broken ground, but none of it reached him. He could feel it — that presence, faint and distant, but alive.
"You're telling me," he said slowly, his voice low and unsteady, "that Altopereh is back?"
Lea stood beside him with her gaze on the Orbiton. "Yes. But not in the way you remember."
He took a step forward, and then another, each one heavier than the last, as though something inside him were resisting — or warning him. "I watched it leave. I watched it tear itself out of that core."
"And it did," Lea said calmly. "What you saw was its true form breaking free."
"Then what is that?" He pointed at the glowing core.
Her expression hardened a little. "What it used to be. A vessel, holding a creature of destruction." Youri clenched his jaw, and she went on more quietly. "Or something new."
That made him pause. "What do you mean, new?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead she started walking toward Altopereh. "Come. If you want answers, you're going to have to face it."
He hesitated for only a moment, and then followed. The ground beneath them was still fractured from the clash — cracked stone, shattered pillars, deep scars carved into the land. Behind them Gaisen lay slowly recovering, its massive form rising and falling with heavy breaths. But Youri's focus was ahead, on the Orbiton. As they drew near, Altopereh loomed larger, its towering frame half buried in sand and debris and yet unmistakably whole. The faint hum of its systems had returned, subtle but present, like a sleeping giant beginning to stir. Youri stopped at its base and looked up. "Feels different," he muttered.
Lea stopped beside him. "Of course it does."
"That knight," he said. "What did he actually do?"
She folded her arms, her gaze narrowing. "He didn't just restore it." She glanced at the core. "He resealed it."
Youri frowned. "Resealed… a God Unit?"
She gave a faint nod. "Knights of Sacros don't fix things. They impose order." She turned toward him. "Whatever plan it had, it failed."
He let that sink in. "Great," he muttered. "So I'm about to jump back into chaos. Again."
She didn't soften it. "Yes."
Youri let out a slow breath and stepped forward. The cockpit hatch, once sealed and lifeless, now stood slightly open, as if it had been waiting for him. He stopped just in front of it. "Feels like déjà vu," he said quietly, and laid his hand on the edge of the hatch.
For a brief moment, he hesitated. Memories surged through him — the battles, the destruction, the feeling of losing control, the voice of Altopereh echoing in his mind. The monster. The power. The cost. And then Leonora — her face, her voice, her tears. His expression hardened. "I'm not dying here," he said under his breath. And he stepped inside.
The cockpit was different. Not visibly, not at first glance — the controls were where they should be, and the interface panels flickered faintly in response to his presence — but the atmosphere was quieter. Still. As though something that had once filled that space were now absent, or waiting. He lowered himself into the pilot's seat. The moment he did, the systems came alive: soft light pulsed across the panels, the main interface ignited and threw faint streams of data across the cockpit, and a low hum resonated through the frame, growing steadier with every second.
"Power levels stabilizing," the AI's voice echoed — and even that sounded different. Less mechanical. More grounded.
Youri frowned. "That's new."
Outside, Lea watched in silence with her eyes on the core, and then it flared. A sudden pulse of energy surged through Altopereh and rippled outward like a shockwave, lifting the sand around its frame into a slow swirl as the machine fully woke. She took a small step back. "Here we go," she murmured.
Inside, Youri felt the connection at once — but it wasn't violent, and it wasn't overwhelming. It was smooth. Controlled. Like stepping into water that didn't resist him. His eyes widened. "What the hell…" The familiar sensation of syncing began, but without the crushing pressure and the invasive force that had once torn through his mind; instead it flowed, as though something were inviting him in. And then, darkness.
Youri opened his eyes and stood once more in the abyss — but it wasn't the same. The endless ocean that had stretched around him was calmer now. The violent currents were gone, the oppressive weight had eased, and the water, though still dark, was clearer. And the sky above it was no longer empty. A faint light shimmered across it.
"Altopereh?" he called.
Silence. No roar, no laughter, no overwhelming presence crashing down on him. His brow furrowed. "Don't tell me you're gone now."
A ripple spread across the water, slow and deliberate. He turned. From the depths below, something moved — not erupting with force as it once had, but rising steadily. A shape. Large. Familiar. The water parted as it emerged, and for the first time it did not feel like a monster.
Youri narrowed his eyes. "I never thought I'd see you this way," he muttered.
The presence in front of him wasn't gone. It had changed. And whatever stood before him now was no longer the same Altopereh he had known.
Outside, Lea watched the Orbiton in silence as the glow of its core settled, shifting from chaotic pulses into a steady, controlled light, and she let out a slow breath. "A Knight of Sacros intervening…" she whispered, lifting her gaze toward the crimson sky where the distortion had closed. "What are you planning?"
Behind her, Gaisen gave a low rumble as its massive form slowly rose once more. The domain had changed, and the balance had shifted. And deep within the Orbiton, Youri was about to face something new — something unknown, that might either save him or finally break him.