Unknown
Obsidian District, New Boston
North Atlantic Federation Arc Zone
Western Hemisphere, UEF
2435 A.D
Ellira strained against the trap barrier, the threads of Lumenis that formed it weaving tighter with every attempt she made to escape. Each strand hummed with Diego's resonance, pulsing like veins alive with his intent. Every movement she made caused new tendrils of light to lash out toward her, trying to bind her completely.
She summoned her staff, drawing in what remained of her energy. A golden veil flared to life around her—her Solar Barrier—each layer rotating in counter-motion to deflect the luminous tendrils before they could make contact. Sparks flew where the two energies met, but even as she held them off, Ellira could feel her strength waning.
She couldn't stay defensive forever. She needed to break through this trap and get to Naia. She's counting on me. I promised I'd protect her.
Her pulse steadied, her mind sharpening. Every instinct screamed to focus on the Weave's core—its anchoring node—somewhere buried in the floor of the barrier. She began tracing its pattern, waiting for an opening.
Meanwhile, outside the shimmering net, Diego turned his attention back to Naia.
"Well," he said with a dark grin, "now that the distraction's out of the way…"
Naia cursed under her breath. She could feel Ellira's presence—faint, muffled—but the empathic tether between them was gone. She was on her own. Her crystalline arm shimmered faintly as she slid back into her fighting stance, every muscle coiling with anticipation.
"I like that look," Diego said, eyes burning with crimson light. "That glare—half fury, half resolve. Don't lose it now."
Then his body began to change.
Muscles rippled and bulged beneath his skin, his frame expanding with a wet, tearing sound. Lumenis surged through his veins until they glowed like molten circuits. The seams of his flesh split open—but instead of blood, threads of Lumenis muscle extended outward, wrapping across his form like armor.
He was merging his Thread Weave with his Bloodline Facet, turning his own body into a living conduit of stored energy.
His aura ignited, roaring like a storm of crimson flame. The floor beneath his feet cracked, the air vibrating from the sheer resonance pressure.
"Now," he said, baring his teeth in a feral grin, "let's dance."
Naia didn't hesitate. She launched forward, her movements a blur of speed and precision. Her fists blazed with white fire, each strike creating shockwaves that rippled down the corridor.
But Diego didn't move. He took the hits. Each punch landed with devastating force—cratering the floor, burning through his crimson aura—and yet he didn't budge. He absorbed it all, the kinetic energy vanishing into his body like a sponge drinking water.
Naia's eyes widened as realization struck. She'd seen it before—when he countered her earlier attack with impossible force.
He's absorbing the impact… storing it.
Naia's mind raced as she circled him, her eyes tracking every subtle shift in his stance. That was his Bloodline Facet—a monstrous, parasitic ability that allowed him to retain and redirect every ounce of force unleashed upon him. Each strike she landed was fuel for him, every collision feeding the pressure coiling within his body like a bomb waiting to detonate.
But she also knew something else.
There had been a delay after his last explosion of power—a momentary lull when his energy signatures had flatlined. A cooldown period. In that window, he couldn't absorb or store any new impact, leaving his body exposed. It hadn't lasted long, but she'd seen it—the hesitation, the slack in his rhythm, the flicker of restraint behind his grin.
Now, though… that time had passed. The air around him crackled again with stored energy, the Lumenis in his blood thrumming like a living drumbeat. The crimson glow surrounding him pulsed in time with his heartbeat, dense and steady.
He's strong, Naia thought, sliding back into her stance, her crystalline arm flaring white as her Lumenis surged. But he's not limitless.
She exhaled, the heat of her breath mixing with the ozone in the air. That narrow window of vulnerability—she had to find it again, force it open, and strike before he could reset the loop.
Her pulse slowed. Her thoughts sharpened.
One mistake, she told herself, and I'm done. But if I time it right…
Her gaze locked on Diego, whose grin widened as if he could sense the shift in her resolve.
I can end this.
The two blurred forward, their movements colliding in a storm of motion and light. Naia struck first—a flurry of punches and kicks that came faster than thunder. Diego took each blow head-on, his body absorbing the force, muscles vibrating as his Bloodline Facet drank in her attacks like a bottomless well.
Each impact detonated in shockwaves that flattened the floor, the surrounding walls fracturing from the concussive bursts. Naia could feel her arms trembling, her bones vibrating from the sheer resistance of his reinforced body. His strength wasn't just physical—it was oppressive, a living wall of power that met every strike without yielding.
Her body screamed under the pressure. She needed more output—more adaptability.
Naia exhaled sharply and activated her Resonant Facet—Resonant Atelier: Canvas of the Heart.
The air around her shimmered. Circles of light bloomed beneath her feet as the micro-workshop of her soul unfolded into reality. Sparks of raw Lumenis shaped themselves into translucent blueprints that danced around her in rapid succession. Within seconds, her creative will translated into form—rows of luminous weapons hovering in the air, forged from pure emotion and energy.
Diego froze mid-stride, eyes narrowing. He could feel the texture of her Facet—it wasn't just projection, it was structure.
"A Resonant Facet…?" he murmured, incredulous. "Almost like a Weave pattern."
Blades of Lumenis flared to life. Naia seized one—then another—and charged. The swords hummed as she slashed, every strike leaving glowing trails through the air. Diego blocked and countered, his reinforced arms breaking her weapons one after another. Each shattered construct dissolved into motes of gold, only for new ones to form instantly around her.
Still, his raw might overwhelmed her creations. The corridor filled with the clash of light and metal, the rhythm punctuated by Diego's booming laughter.
"You don't have any offensive Facets, do you?" he said between blows. "All your Cuts are focused on creation. That martial art of yours—that's the only destructive technique you've got."
Naia's eyes hardened. "So?"
Diego smirked. "It's a shame. With talent like yours… if you hadn't stagnated your gift, who knows how far you could've gone."
Before she could answer, his body warped again—his right arm elongating, the muscles twisting and thickening until it resembled a massive piston of flesh and light. The air snapped under the pressure of condensed Lumenis.
Then he struck.
The punch hit like artillery.
Naia barely crossed her arms in front of her to block before the force blasted her backward. She smashed through the wall, then another, and another—debris exploding in her wake—until she finally hit a column and slid to the ground.
Her entire body throbbed. Her crystalline prosthetic arm was fractured, spiderweb cracks glowing faintly along its surface. Her other arm hung limp, pain shooting through her shoulder with every breath. Blood trickled from her temple, blurring her vision.
Get up… you have to get up.
Naia groaned, forcing herself upright, leaning on her knees as her body shook. She could barely feel her fingers. Still, she clenched her fists, summoning every spark of will she had left.
"...Radiant Gauntlet," she whispered.
Golden-white light coiled around her right arm, wrapping over the crystalline limb like molten armor. The Cut Facet surged to life, reinforcing both her prosthetic and her broken body, knitting focus out of pain.
Her breathing steadied.
She had one last White Blaze left in her. One final strike. And if her read was right, Diego had just released all the kinetic energy he'd been storing—meaning his cooldown was back.
She looked up through the haze of dust and smoke as Diego stepped through the ruined wall, his frame massive, crimson light crawling over his skin like living fire. His grin was wide, almost joyous. Naia raised her glowing fist, her heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of her Facet.
It was time to end it.
Diego's laughter thundered through the collapsing room, echoing against the molten walls. His aura burned brighter than ever, a roaring crimson shroud that warped the air around him.
Then he lunged.
The ground cratered beneath his takeoff, the pressure wave shattering the tiles as his fist cut through the air like a cannon round. Naia ducked low, the wind from his swing grazing her cheek like a blade. She countered instantly, driving her glowing fist upward toward his ribs—
—but Diego was ready.
He twisted, his body moving with terrifying agility for his size, and his leg snapped upward in a brutal kick that caught Naia squarely in the chest. The impact sent her flying, her body smashing through a support beam before she even hit the ground.
He didn't give her a chance to breathe.l
Diego surged forward again, closing the distance in a blink. His next punch came down like a meteor, slamming into her midsection and tearing straight through her abdomen. He felt resistance—then a strange, unexpected softness.
A flicker of confusion crossed his face.
The Naia before him dissolved into radiant motes of light, vanishing into the air.
"A clone," he muttered, realization dawning.
Before the glow faded completely, another figure emerged from the smoke behind him—a second Naia, her crystalline arm pulsing with lethal white brilliance.
Her White Blaze was fully charged.
Diego's eyes widened as he pieced it together. The Naia he'd sent flying earlier hadn't been the real one. When he'd smashed her through the walls, she'd switched places with one of her crafted duplicates—an identical decoy mimicking her condition perfectly. While he'd been distracted annihilating her clone, the real Naia had been waiting in the shadows, gathering every ounce of energy left in her body for this single moment.
And now—she struck.
The world went white.
Naia's fist connected squarely with his chest, and White Blaze detonated in full. The explosion of Lumenis and kinetic force vaporized the surrounding floor, shockwaves ripping through the building. Fractured steel and shards of light rained down as the ground beneath them gave way, collapsing into the levels below.
Naia felt the floor crumble beneath her boots. Her body tilted into freefall—until a massive hand clamped down on her prosthetic arm, halting her descent. The grip was iron, unyielding. When the dust cleared, she looked up through the haze. Diego was still standing.
His grin was wider than ever, teeth bared in savage exhilaration. The red glow of his veins burned brighter than molten metal as he tightened his hold on her arm, the Lumenis around his body rippling like a living storm.
"You thought I'd entered my cooldown, didn't you?" he said, his voice dripping with manic glee.
Naia's pupils constricted.
"True—my Bloodline Facet does force me to rest after releasing all the impact I've stored…" His grin twisted into something feral. "…but I never said I released everything."
The air cracked with a sudden surge of energy.
"I still had plenty left to absorb your little explosion."
Before she could react, Diego yanked her forward, his other arm snapping back like a piston. The next punch slammed into her ribs with enough force to fold steel. She coughed blood, the breath ripped from her lungs.
But he didn't stop.
Still holding her by the prosthetic arm, Diego unleashed a barrage of blows, each one detonating like a thunderclap. His fists blurred—gut, shoulder, sternum, jaw—each impact more devastating than the last. The air filled with the sound of cracking bone and shattering light as Naia's body was battered by the unstoppable rhythm of his fury.
Diego's hand closed around Naia's throat, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. Her feet scraped against the cracked floor as she clawed weakly at his forearm. Blood dripped from her split lip, bruises darkened across her face, and her breathing came in ragged gasps.
"Do you know what I dislike about you, Naia Vasselheim?" Diego's voice was low and harsh, vibrating with contempt. His eyes burned like molten coals beneath the haze of red Lumenis surrounding him. "You've got this… gift. The ability to empathize, to feel others, but you don't understand anyone. Not really."
He drew her closer until she could see the cracks glowing beneath his skin, his voice rising in anger.
"You live your comfortable life, sitting behind your desk in your perfect little house, serving the machine your family built centuries ago. You waste what you were born with! Do you have any idea how many people on this planet would kill to have what you have—to escape the filth and hunger?"
He sneered, his grip tightening. "But you? You toss it away because you never had to fight for it. You never needed that talent of yours… because everything in your life was handed to you!"
His fist slammed into her stomach, the impact lifting her off the ground before she crashed back down. Naia gasped, blood spraying from her mouth, but she didn't stay down. She tried to rise, trembling, defiant.
Diego didn't give her the chance. He lunged forward, his next blow catching her jaw and sending her spinning into the air. He followed her up in one smooth motion, twisting his body midair and driving a downward kick that pinned her to the floor with bone-shaking force. The ground fractured beneath her, cracks spider-webbing outward in a glowing lattice of shattered concrete.
"Of course you can't understand the plights of others," Diego said, his tone quieter now—almost pitying. "You were never meant to."
Naia coughed, spitting blood, but her eyes glared up at him with unbroken will."It… doesn't… matter… what happened to… you guys," she managed between shallow breaths. "It doesn't excuse… breaking the law."
"Breaking the law?" Diego echoed, a bitter laugh ripping from his throat. "And whose law, exactly? The one written by your family's corporations? The same ones that keep people like me in the dirt while you sit at the top pretending the world is fair?"
He crouched down, his voice a growl in her ear. "Your laws are cages. Tools of control. And Xerna—she's going to burn them all down. Me?" He paused, eyes narrowing. "I don't care about justice, or peace, or any of that coexistence crap. But I owe her. She saved me when the UEF left me to die. She gave me a purpose, a reason to exist."
He leaned closer, his breath hot against her face. "And when you stand against her… You reject me. You make my existence meaningless."
Then, in a sudden burst of rage, Diego pressed his weight down—his legs pinning her back—before snapping his knees together. The sound was sickening.
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber.
Naia screamed—a sound torn from deep in her lungs—before her body went limp.
Diego froze, the red haze around him flickering. His expression shifted from fury to alarm as he looked down at her unmoving form.
"Oh—shit!" he hissed. Panic flickered across his face for the first time. He knelt beside her quickly, pressing two fingers to her neck.
A pulse. Faint. Weak.
He exhaled, his expression twisting between relief and guilt. "Cap's gonna kill me if I actually killed you," he muttered.
Naia's breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling with a fragile rhythm. Her eyes were unfocused, but still faintly glowing with defiance.
Inside the cocoon of light and restraint, Ellira fought like a cornered star. The threads of Lumenis that Diego had woven constricted tighter with every passing second, each one trying to smother her aura and choke the flow of her energy. But her defensive weave—layered, radiant, and stubborn as her will—held firm. Every filament that touched her shield hissed and disintegrated, scattering into motes of golden fire.
Still, the strain was brutal. Her breath came ragged, her vision flickering at the edges. The more she poured into her barriers, the faster her reserves burned away. Only her Solar Weave, the bloodline technique of her tribe, kept her from collapsing—cycling and restoring her Lumenis just fast enough to keep her from falling apart.
But even that light was dimming. Her body trembled as she calculated what was left—three-quarters of her full reserve, maybe less. And with the feedback from the Restoration Weave growing weaker each cycle, she knew she wouldn't be able to fully recover again.
Then—she felt it.
A flicker of Naia's energy in the distance. Once vibrant, defiant… now fading. Her heart clenched. Naia's vital signature was collapsing—her energy dispersing like mist. The empathic echo that had lingered between them, even after their connection was cut, trembled with pain.
Ellira's hands froze in mid-weave. For an instant, her concentration wavered, and the threads pressing against her barrier surged inward.
No…
She steadied herself, the panic in her chest turning cold. No, she can't...She can't be dying... I promised I'd protect her....I promised...
But the promise sounded hollow now—fragile and naive in her mind. She could feel it—Naia had fought with everything she had.
And what have I done? Ellira thought bitterly. I've hidden behind barriers and words.
Then, through the ringing in her ears, she remembered Naia's voice.
When you step onto a battlefield, you have to be ready to kill—or be killed.
The words echoed like a bell tolling in her mind, snapping something deep inside her. The fear, the hesitation, the pacifism she had carried like armor—it all shattered.
Ellira's breath steadied. The threads constricting around her glowed white-hot as her Lumenis surged—no longer calm, no longer defensive. The golden light of her Solar Weave began to twist with something sharper, something fierce.
Then—she struck back.
A piercing beam of golden light erupted from the cocoon, burning through the air like a blade of the sun itself. The energy tore through Diego's Weave, splitting his barrier apart as multiple lances of radiance followed, each one exploding outward like solar flares breaking free from a dying star. The entire structure shook as her power bloomed.
Diego froze mid-motion, the air rippling with the sudden burst of power behind him. His head turned slowly toward the source, disbelief flickering in his crimson eyes. The cocoon that had once held Ellira captive was now cracking open, light spilling from every seam. And for the first time, Diego hesitated.
****
After the last mercenary fell and the final combat drone collapsed in a shower of sparks, Elias stood alone among the wreckage—his blade slick with blood and oil. Smoke curled through the air, mingling with the metallic tang of Lumenis discharge. The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that only came after slaughter.
He didn't have to wait long. A new presence approached, measured and deliberate, its rhythm unmistakable. Nine stepped through the shattered doorway, his eyes sweeping across the carnage that Elias had left behind.
For a brief moment, he said nothing. He simply took it in—the bodies, the ruin, the smell of ozone and death—and then his gaze settled on Elias. Bitterness darkened his expression.
So this was the man—the one his Captain had spoken of, the one who occupied that unspoken corner of her mind. A surge of resentment twisted in his chest. Hatred followed. His aura darkened, and his Lumenis field began to boil. The once smooth texture of his energy turned jagged and turbulent, rippling with emotion.
Elias felt the shift immediately.
Nine's resonance pressure spiked, expanding outward like a storm front. The atmosphere thickened, vibrating with an unstable hum as his aura climbed—higher, heavier—until it pressed against Elias's own. Their fields collided, dark gold clashing with cold silver.
The floor cracked under the invisible weight of it. Pillars splintered. The entire building groaned as though it might collapse.
And yet Elias stood unflinching.
His Lumenis field sharpened, the edges forming the outline of a blade. The golden light surrounding him condensed into lethal focus—every flicker of energy honed to a cutting edge.
The two forces ground against each other like tectonic plates. For a brief instant, the air screamed with tension. Then—silence.
Elias's focus flickered outward. Beyond the clash of aura, he could feel the distant resonance of other battles—Ellira's light, Naia's pulse, the violent chaos of their opponents. He forced himself not to move. Not yet. Trust them. His faith had to hold.
His blade disintegrated into dust.
The eight gems embedded along his lattice flared to life, glowing like miniature suns. Their resonance harmonized, forming a symmetrical pattern in the air as he began to construct a Summoning Weave.
Normally, he'd have his drone dispatch the weapon directly, but that risked leaving a record—something the GSA could trace. Not this time. He would pull it manually.
A flash of white light tore through the chamber, and when it faded, the Relic Gem hung in the air, pulsing with an ancient rhythm.
Nine's composure faltered. The very atmosphere shifted, warping under the relic's presence. He realized then—this wasn't a fight that could be won by Lumenis alone.
He drew his wand, channeling energy through it until it thrummed with power. His fingers flicked through intricate sigils, and he reached for his foresight, invoking his predictive thread to glimpse the next seconds.
But the world glitched. His mind stuttered. Instead of seeing Elias's possible futures, his consciousness was rejected. Like a system refusing input, his vision fuzzed into static. He recoiled as pain shot through his temples.
"You… You—How—how can you—" Nine's voice cracked, hysteria lacing his words.
Elias didn't flinch. His expression remained carved in calm steel.
"You can't defeat me," he said simply.
The Saber was still locked in its sheath. The binding vow etched into its core prevented him from drawing it unless the opponent before him was his equal—or greater. That was the first vow Elias had sworn when he forged the blade. And the fact that it remained sealed told him everything he needed to know.
Nine wasn't on his level.
"I don't have time to waste on you," Elias said coldly. "Get out of my way—or I'll cut through you."
Nine's eyes lowered, shadows hiding his face. Then a low, trembling laugh escaped him. "You don't see me from your high chair. You corporate dogs are all the same…"
He lifted his head. Fire burned behind his eyes. "But I won't let you look down on me, Elias Vasselheim."
His wand moved.
Threads of Lumenis manifested in the air—golden filaments, glowing like spider silk, drifting outward in all directions. The air vibrated with strange resonance as each filament attached to a probability node, small orbs orbiting like celestial bodies around them.
The space itself bent and folded. The floor vanished, replaced by an endless plane of golden light. The domain expanded into being—a Rule Pocket, Nine's masterpiece.
The air was alive with weaving patterns, looping and intersecting in elegant symmetry. Above, the sky glimmered with shifting equations of light, while behind Nine floated a central loom sigil, an engine of fate itself, spinning threads that connected every node like a living constellation.
Elias stood at the center of it all, unmoving, eyes glinting with measured interest.
"So," he said, his voice cutting through the hum, "this is your Rule Pocket."
He raised a hand, feeling the density of the energy pressing in around him—the delicate weave of probability and control.
"It's quite impressive," Elias said evenly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the golden web of light surrounding them.
A Rule Pocket—the defining mark of a Crown-tier being. It was the highest expression of control one could exert over reality through Lumenis. To craft such a construct required near-perfect mastery over both energy and intent. It was a feat of impossible precision: the ability to weave a separate pocket of space, completely severed from the natural dimension, and install within it a single, unbreakable law.
Within this space, the world did not obey the universe. It obeyed you. And the nature of that law—the Rule itself—was determined by one's Base Facet, the origin point of one's soul and power.
Elias glanced around, taking in the intricate, floating lattice of golden filaments and rotating probability nodes that filled the domain. Threads of Lumenis connected them like constellations, intersecting to form weaving patterns that bent light itself. The faint hum of causality resonated in the air, as if the world itself were a harp being plucked by unseen hands.
He exhaled quietly. "So this is the shape of your soul, then."
Nine stood across from him, framed by the luminous loom that turned slowly behind his back—a vast, radiant mechanism of interconnected rings and threads. His face was calm now, almost serene, his voice carrying a trace of reverence.
"Within my Rule Pocket: Loom of Consequence," he said, his wand raised, "I have locked you into a single outcome. Every thread, every variable, every causal sequence has been aligned toward one inevitable end."
The glow intensified. The web around Elias pulsed once, sealing the boundaries of the space.
"Your defeat at my hand."
Nine's lips curved in a thin, bitter smile. "Let's see if you still sound so smug now."
Elias sighed. The weight of the domain pressed down on him, like the air itself was trying to decide how he should lose. Still, his expression didn't change. His right hand tightened around the hilt of his Saber of Conviction—still locked within its sheath by the sacred seal of his vow.
Even so, the weapon hummed faintly, responding to his Lumenis. He could not unsheathe it—not unless he faced someone his equal or stronger—but that didn't mean he couldn't use it. Closing his eyes, Elias inhaled, steadying his breathing as his Lumenis channeled through his body, spiraling into the Saber's frame. His aura flared with restrained brilliance, threads of golden energy rising like heat distortion.
Then, quietly, he made a Vow within his heart, invoking the ancient Oath of House Vasselheim—a promise older than the corporations, older than the UEF, a vow etched into the bloodline of their founders.
I give this flame to deny their law. Let my heat refuse their world.
As the words echoed within his soul, the temperature around him rose sharply. The Lumenis that composed Nine's Rule Pocket began to shimmer, the golden threads distorting as if reality itself were starting to waver under the heat.
A field of pure thermal distortion expanded outward from Elias—his Burnspace. It was not fire, but conceptual combustion—a metaphysical field that burned the underlying laws of the environment, melting away everything that bound him to another's control. Anchored by his vow, the heat didn't destroy matter; it denied obedience.
Nine's eyes widened as the Rule Pocket began to falter. The probability nodes wavered, their orbits stuttering.
"What—what is this—"
Elias moved. The motion was almost too small to see—a slight shift of his foot, a breath, a flicker of his wrist.
Cleave of Breath.
The sheathed Saber flashed once. A faint diagonal ripple tore through the air, silent and clean, yet the world itself seemed to lurch.
A fracture ran across Nine's domain—the golden threads snapping all at once, the entire Loom of Consequence collapsing like a tapestry unraveling in firelight.
Nine gasped, clutching his chest as a thin line of blood appeared across it. The cut had run not through flesh, but through possibility itself.
When the light cleared, Elias stood behind him, the Saber still sheathed, a faint trail of golden embers fading from its edge.
"Bound by my vow," Elias said quietly, "I can easily cut through fate itself."
Nine's domain shattered around them, its brilliance fading into darkness.