Night had settled over Ætheris like an overturned ink jar, the city glowing in scattered neon strokes across the darkness. The abandoned observatory perched above it all like a forgotten throne, wind whistling against cracked windows.
Inside, silence reigned.
Ryuu stood with his back to Lanri and the rescued girl, hands resting on the cold railing overlooking the cityscape. Lights flickered in the mist far below.
"The Split Sovereign…" Lanri murmured behind him. "If the cult believes that's you, then this isn't coincidence. Everything up until now… the ambush, the portals, even the Gatewalker anomalies—it's not random."
Ryuu didn't turn.
"I know."
Lanri swallowed. "So what now?"
What now?
A hundred paths lay in front of him. Every one dangerous.
One led to answers.
One led to war.
One… might lead to losing himself completely.
Behind him, the girl slowly sat up on her cot. Her voice was still fragile, but steady enough.
"Let me explain… what I know."
Ryuu finally turned.
"Speak."
She inhaled deeply, bracing herself.
The Twins of Fate
"There is a prophecy found in both worlds," she began, "but fragmented differently depending on who holds it. Cultists, ancient clans, scholar sects, even some government archives in Ætheris… they all contain pieces."
Ryuu exchanged a glance with Lanri.
"Both worlds?" he asked. "You're saying this isn't just a Tianluo myth."
"No." She shook her head. "It's older than both worlds. Older than Gatewalking itself."
That got Ryuu's attention.
She continued, voice trembling.
"It speaks of a soul born split in two—half light, half shadow. A being who walks the line between order and chaos. Who bridges realms that were meant to stay separate."
Her eyes lifted, meeting Ryuu's.
"Someone whose presence destabilizes the barrier between worlds. Someone with two selves."
Ryuu's pulse quickened.
"And because of that," she said softly, "both worlds either will be saved… or consumed. Depending on which self dominates."
Lanri stepped closer to Ryuu. "They think you're the fulcrum. The one who'll tip the balance."
Ryuu remained silent.
Inside him, the Cruel Persona whispered, amused:
They think too small. Balance is so… mundane.
He pushed the voice back, jaw tightening.
"Continue," he said.
The Mark of Circles
The girl pulled her collar down slightly, revealing faint circular burns around her throat—like linked rings.
"These marks… are how the cult identifies those touched by the prophecy. They call the circles 'the Sovereign's Chain.' Anyone who has seen the Twin Soul aura—your aura—is branded to prevent them from revealing its secrets."
Lanri frowned. "But we broke it."
"He broke it," the girl corrected quietly, nodding toward Ryuu. "Only the Sovereign can."
That sent another ripple of chill through the room.
Ryuu asked, "What else do they know about this… Sovereign?"
The girl hesitated.
Ryuu stepped closer. "Tell me everything."
She took a shaky breath.
"They believe the Sovereign is destined to open the path between worlds fully. A permanent Gate."
A quiet shock filled the space.
Lanri's eyes widened. "A full merge? That would cause dimensional collapse—culture shock, ecological disaster, magic overflow—"
"It would be catastrophic," Ryuu finished.
The girl nodded. "Exactly. That's why the cult either wants to control you…"
She swallowed.
"…or kill you."
Ryuu felt a muscle twitch in his cheek.
"So they don't know which side I'll take," he muttered.
"No one knows," the girl said. "Not even the prophecy. It only says:
'The one born twice, the one who carries two shadows, shall either unite the worlds… or burn them both.'"
Ryuu closed his eyes.
Inside him, the Cruel Persona chuckled.
Burning both sounds fun, doesn't it?
He clenched his fist. "Shut up."
Lanri blinked. "Ryuu?"
"Nothing," he muttered.
A Thread in the Dark
Suddenly, the mana-lamp flickered.
All three froze.
The air grew heavy, temperature dropping several degrees. A faint crackling noise—like static—crept across the room. The observatory windows vibrated.
Lanri reached for her blade.
The girl gasped, clutching her chest. "No… Not now. Not here—"
Black mist seeped from the cracks in the floor.
Ryuu's aura flared instinctively.
"What is this?"
The girl trembled. "A tracking tether. Someone activated the mark before you destroyed it. They—they know where I am!"
Lanri swore.
The mist rose into the shape of a humanoid silhouette—featureless, eyes glowing like dying embers. A construct. A hunter made of curse and qi.
The thing raised an arm.
Ryuu reacted instantly.
The Cruel Persona surged forward like a shadow blade.
Their voices overlapped in a single command:
"Don't move."
Lanri obeyed without hesitation.
The creature lunged.
Ryuu met it with bare hands.
For a moment, the room was a storm—black mist colliding with darker aura, sparks of qi scattering like shooting stars. Ryuu pushed forward, forcing the creature back toward the cracked dome window.
"You dare hunt me?" the Cruel Persona growled through Ryuu's lips.
The creature writhed, hissing.
Ryuu's foot slammed into its core—
—and it shattered into dust, exploding against the broken window in a gust of corrupted energy.
Silence followed.
Ryuu turned back, breath uneven.
Lanri stared at him.
The girl looked terrified.
"You… really are the one," she whispered. "Only someone with the Sovereign's nature could destroy a tether construct barehanded."
Ryuu wiped dust from his sleeve, voice calm.
But inside, his heart pounded.
The Cruel Persona purred contentedly, retreating but not gone.
Lanri approached him slowly.
"Ryuu… we need a plan. Before more come."
He nodded, but didn't answer.
Because now something new weighed heavily on him.
The creature's final moment…
As it died, he had felt something through it—
A presence.
A watcher.
A mind reaching across the veil.
Someone on the other side had seen him.
Recognized him.
And whispered one word:
"Sovereign."
Ryuu opened his eyes.
"We don't have much time," he said quietly. "They're coming for me. For us."
Lanri tensed. "Who?"
Ryuu's gaze drifted toward the dark skyline.
"Everyone."