The wind had sharpened by the time Cyrus trudged back toward the Odyssey, carrying the cold in every seam of his coat. The glacier behind him hummed with the low, ancient pulse of something waiting. Even after leaving the cavern, the rhythmic signal lingered in his bones — like a faint heartbeat that wasn't his.
Tyrunt padded along at his heels, tail swaying. Meltan perched on Cyrus's shoulder, its tiny body vibrating softly, still resonating with whatever it had sensed in the depths. Gengar drifted behind him like a long shadow, flickering in and out of the blowing snow. Charcadet, ever the stoic ember in winter's throat, rode zipped inside Cyrus's coat for warmth, tiny flames flickering against the cold. An where was are little Blue Ditto, of course disguised as a slightly too-shiny navy-blue scarf wrapped snugly around Cyrus's neck, humming like a lazy engine.
The Odyssey came into view as a hazy silhouette first, then its steel edges sharpened as Cyrus grew closer. Frost clung to its hull in uneven plates, like sheets of glass.
He climbed aboard through the side hatch, boots clacking on metal, and exhaled a breath he felt like he'd been holding for hours.
"Okay," he murmured, rubbing his hands together. "Prep time."
The storage hold was colder than usual — the ship was funneling power toward stabilizing its internal sensors, and non-essential heating had been reduced. Crates sat stacked in silent rows, each labeled in Cyrus's neat handwriting. He keyed open the expedition locker and began pulling supplies with methodical precision:
microthermal lanterns
frost-anchoring spikes
insulated sampling jars
a portable sonic mapper
spare power cells (because something always drains faster in the cold)
nutrient packs for his team
two rolls of emergency melt-foam
He paused at a sealed case marked FRAGILE – FIELD USE ONLY.
"Better bring it," he decided. The last time he'd ignored the fragile case, he'd regretted it.
Tyrunt peered inside hopefully — disappointed when it turned out to be tools instead of snacks.
Cyrus knelt and set the supplies aside.
"Alright, team. Roll call."
Gengar popped into view upside-down, grinning like a mischievous chandelier.
Tyrunt chirped, hopping forward — the hop turning into a skid on the icy floor.
Meltan bobbed, eye shining.
Charcadet poked its head from Cyrus's coat, helmet plume flickering.
Ditto tightened around his neck, making a noise suspiciously close to "brrp."
Cyrus smiled. "Everyone good? This place is about to get colder, louder, and a whole lot weirder. I need you all focused."
Gengar saluted with a shadowy tendril.
Tyrunt puffed out his little chest.
Charcadet crackled softly, embers spiraling.
Meltan chimed a metallic note.
Ditto… transformed into a thumbs-up mitten.
"Close enough," Cyrus said, tugging it back into scarf-shape.
He handed out energy snacks — except to Gengar, who pretended to eat his but dropped it through the floor grate like a coin.
He returned to his cabin, dropping into the chair at his desk. His fingers danced across the tablet:
✔ Field route plotted✔ Emergency beacon synced✔ Regi signatures marked✔ Environmental hazard alerts refreshed
The Island Systems Map updated, its cold-blue overlays flickering across the 3D terrain. The region where he'd detected the two Regis pulsed like a pair of steady drumbeats.
Two cores. Two guardians.
Working together… or opposing each other?
A faint knock sounded — more of a polite metallic tap. Meltan had crawled onto the desk, nudging a fresh recording crystal toward him.
"Good idea," Cyrus said softly. "We'll probably need several."
He slipped the crystal into his belt.
By mid-morning, the sky had shifted — pale gold behind the clouds, promising a few hours of visibility before the next storm rolled in. The team gathered on the lower deck as Cyrus sealed the last strap of his pack.
"Alright," he told them, breath fogging. "Today we find out what's calling. No interference unless necessary. Observe first. Engage only if the Regis force it."
Tyrunt clacked his teeth in excitement.
Charcadet crackled a warning spark — stay sharp.
Meltan buzzed with an eager tremolo.
Ditto reshaped into a thicker scarf — clearly bracing.
Gengar phased halfway through the deck rail, then floated back with an exaggerated shiver.
Cyrus stepped down the ramp, boots sinking into fresh snow. The landscape beyond the shoreline stretched like a frozen ocean — rolling waves of ice frozen mid-motion. Somewhere beneath it, something huge and ancient was stirring.
He set off.
Cyrus followed the pulse, letting the rhythmic frequency guide him. The ice changed as they moved inland — going from smooth to fractal, splitting into jagged ridges and crystalline towers that rose like frozen trees. Strange frost patterns curled up their sides — not random fractals, but deliberate shapes. Almost like runes.
"Not natural," he whispered.
They passed steam vents that hissed warm air into the frigid landscape. Blue Tyrunt yelped when a puff of warm vapor hit his face, shaking his tiny horns.
Gengar mischievously arranged the vapor into faces.
Meltan analyzed everything, collecting small flecks of metallic frost that responded to its touch.
Charcadet stayed close to Cyrus's leg, protecting their heat source.
Ditto turned into earmuffs.
Hours passed — the sky dimmed, then brightened again as the clouds shifted.
The pulse grew stronger.
Deeper.
Older.
Cyrus's heart raced with it.
They reached a narrow valley carved between two ice ridges. The wind died abruptly — as though the world held its breath.
The ice glowed faintly from below.
Cyrus stepped forward, brushing the frost away with a gloved hand.
Beneath the surface lay an enormous geometric shape — a perfect hexagon — carved into the ice like a seal.
The pulse throbbed through it like a heartbeat.
Cyrus whispered, "We're close."
Gengar drifted behind him.
Tyrunt whined nervously but stood firm.
Meltan vibrated in perfect harmony with the pulse.
Charcadet's flame dimmed instinctively.
Ditto flattened itself like a nervous tie.
The ice beneath the hexagon cracked.
A soft glow seeped upward.
And then—
Not violently — but deliberately, as if waking from centuries of thought.
The Ice-Steel Regi emerged first — metallic plates shaped like frozen armor, its body formed of interlocking shards of steel embedded with ice crystals. Every motion released a soft clink like metal settling on metal. Its face pattern glowed brilliant silver-blue.
Behind it, the Water-Ice Regi rose — its body fluid yet structured, carved from translucent ice that flowed like a living glacier. Water coursed through channels within it, freezing and melting in time with each movement. Its face pattern shimmered in rippling cyan.
Two guardians.
Two rhythms.
Two ancient minds staring down at him.
The pulse synchronized in the air around Cyrus, vibrating through his bones.
He swallowed hard, barely breathing.
"T-Team… stay close," he whispered.
Gengar's grin vanished.
Tyrunt pressed against Cyrus's leg.
Charcadet's flames dimmed to a tense ember.
Meltan froze mid-bounce.
Even Ditto stopped jiggling.
The two Regis lowered their heads.
Acknowledging him.
Awaiting something.