The Memory Sea did not calm after the Third Moon.It sharpened.
The crimson glow overhead thickened into a deeper, wine-dark shade, and from within it a new circle kindled — not bright like fire, but sly, like an eye half-open.
The Fourth Moon.
If the Third had been about manipulation,the Fourth was about rewriting.
Aarav felt it before he saw it.
A faint itch ran behind his thoughts, like fingers trying to rearrange his memories. Not violently. Not all at once. Gently. Persuasively. As if the world were saying:
"Wouldn't this version be better?"
His Equilibrium Sight flared instinctively.
Golden and black spirals spun across his vision, revealing faint distortions in the air — sentences that were never spoken, scenes that had never happened, flickers of a childhood he did not live.
Lunaris shivered.
"My memories… feel strange," she whispered. "Like something is testing which one I'll accept."
Umara hugged her arms.
"I used to wake up with different versions of my past," she muttered. "Sometimes the cult made me believe I'd joined willingly. Sometimes that I enjoyed it. Sometimes…" She trailed off, voice cracking.
Seraphyne's face was unusually pale.
"So he's here," she murmured. "The Fourth Guardian. The one even the Demon feared."
Aarav looked at her.
"You know him."
Her eyes met his.
"I… know his work."
The Library of False Truths
The world shifted around them.
The battlefield, the strings, the blood river — all dissolved, replaced by an endless library.
Shelves stretched in every direction, stacked with books of all sizes and colors. The air smelled of ink, dust, and something more subtle:
Regret.
At the center of this library sat a solitary desk made of black glass. Upon it lay an open book — its pages blank, its spine pulsing gently like a heartbeat.
A man sat behind it.
He looked ordinary.
No horns.No flames.No mask.
Just a scholar with messy hair, ink-stained fingertips, and a gentle smile. His eyes, however, were not normal — they were mirror-silver, reflecting not who stood before him but who they thought they were.
The System pulsed.
[Guardian Detected: The Author of Lies][Role: Rewriter of Memory, Framer of Destiny, Chronicler of False Histories][Danger: Extreme — Psychological & Existential]
He raised his gaze slowly.
"Aah," he said softly. "You finally arrived."
Lunaris frowned. "You sound like you've been expecting us."
The Author chuckled.
"I expected him," he said, pointing at Aarav. "You three are… delightful annotations."
Lunaris bristled. "I'm not an annotation."
Umara muttered, "I refuse to be a footnote."
Seraphyne's lips twitched despite the tension.
Aarav stepped closer.
"You know who I am."
The Author smiled kindly.
"I know who you think you are."
He gestured at the shelves.
"These are all your lives."
The three women froze.
Aarav didn't even blink.
"That's impossible."
The Author shrugged softly. "Possibility is a poor excuse to deny craftsmanship."
He stood.
As he did, the shelves trembled. Books turned their spines, titles shifting: Aarav the Scholar, Aarav the Demon Vessel, Aarav the Betrayer, Aarav the God-killer, Aarav the Pawn.
Lunaris whispered, "These are… all versions of you."
Umara's grip on his sleeve tightened.
Seraphyne's expression turned sharp. "How many of them are real?"
The Author's smile widened.
"That, my dear Ashen Lady, is the test."
A Quiet Threat
The Author waved his hand.
A single book floated down from a high shelf and landed on the black glass table.
The cover was plain.
No title.No symbol.
Just one thing — Aarav's name.
"This," the Author said, "is your current life. Modern, Ancient, Medieval. Time travel, System, Heavenly Divine Demon Technique, Foundational Academy, Archaios Mageion, harem, villain, ruler of dimensions… a rather elaborate manuscript, if I may say."
Aarav stared at it calmly.His heart, however, clenched.
The Author opened it.
Inside, text flowed like living ink, telling the story from the ancient ruin to the Memory Sea. Every choice. Every comprehension. Every attachment.
He turned a page.
"And here," he said softly, "is where it starts getting… messy."
The letters blurred.
Whole sentences vanished. New lines wrote themselves in their place.
"Aarav died in the ruin. The Core chose another.""Aarav refused the Technique and remained mortal.""Aarav became a puppet of the Prophet."
Lunaris stepped forward, frost gathering around her fingers.
"Stop that."
The Author smiled fondly, as if watching an angry kitten.
"It's only words, child."
Umara's shadow rose sharply.
"Words change lives."
Seraphyne clenched her fists.
"Words built you, didn't they?"
For a moment, the Author's smile faded.
"Clever," he murmured.
He closed the book.
"Here is the trial, then: Aarav Verma — you must prove that your story is yours."
Aarav's gaze did not waver.
"Define 'prove'."
The Author's eyes glimmered.
"You must face a page that was erased."
Lunaris swallowed.
"Erased…?"
The Author nodded calmly.
"Someone, somewhere — outside this Memory Sea — tampered with your past. Removed a piece. Left a scar. Even I do not know exactly what was taken."
He looked at Aarav with genuine curiosity.
"Find that missing memory. Accept it. And I will not rewrite your story."
Seraphyne's voice shook. "And if he fails?"
The Author's voice was perfectly even.
"Then his life will be edited into something… more useful."
The Missing Piece
The Author flicked his fingers.
The world around Aarav twisted.
He found himself alone in a small room — not in the ancient world, not in the medieval one.
In the modern era.
A cluttered office.
Stacks of books. Papers pinned to the wall. Scribbles about ancient mana patterns, dimensional decay, and forgotten eras.
His office.
Aarav Verma's.
He saw… himself.
Sitting at the desk. Tired eyes. Ink-stained hands. An old coffee cup. The Infinite Comprehension Core still just a theory scribbled on the board.
He watched that past self stand, pace, write.
And then—the world skipped.
Like a page torn out of a book.
One moment: Aarav alone in his office.Next moment: Aarav in the ancient ruin.
No bridge.No first trigger.No origin of the discovery.Just a gap.
The Author's voice echoed around him.
"That is your missing piece. The moment between theory… and awakening."
Aarav inhaled slowly.
"So someone erased the step where I first made contact with the Core."
"Not erased," the Author said softly. "Hidden. Wrapped. Repurposed."
The room trembled.
A hazy shadow stood where the missing moment should be — a silhouette with no face, only a faint impression of someone standing beside him in that office.
A voice.Soft.Female.
"If you do this… there is no turning back."
Aarav's heart skipped.
He couldn't see her.He couldn't remember her.
But the emotions surged up anyway:
Warmth.Trust.Pain.
Lunaris, Umara, and Seraphyne were not here — not physically. But their bond to him tugged at the scene. Their presence echoed faintly at the edge of this memory.
Lunaris's frost whispered: Don't break.
Umara's shadow murmured: Don't abandon yourself.
Seraphyne's ink hissed: Don't accept a lie.
Aarav focused.
Equilibrium Sight burned.
The silhouette flickered — first as a stranger. Then as a faceless researcher. Then as a goddess. Then as nothing.
The Author tried to stabilize it.
The Memory Sea pushed to distort it.
Aarav did something neither expected.
He let go of seeing.And listened.
Not with his ears.With his comprehension.
Underneath the distortion, he found the intent.
He heard the truth behind the moment.
It wasn't someone forcing him.It wasn't someone tricking him.
It was someone warning him.Someone close.
He stretched his hand toward the silhouette.
"You weren't my captor," Aarav said quietly."You were my ally."
The silhouette trembled.
The Author's voice stiffened.
"Careful."
Aarav smiled faintly.
"You tried to erase her," he murmured, "but the effect she had on my choices remained. That's why your strings keep failing."
The silhouette surged — a bit clearer now:
Hair.A faint curve of lips.Eyes that knew him.
He still couldn't see her face, but he saw her posture.
Protective.Sad.Resolute.
"If you do this," her voice repeated, "you will step beyond humanity.""You may never find peace.""You may never be allowed to die."
Aarav's chest ached.
He whispered back into the memory.
"I know."
The silhouette's hand reached toward his.
The room shuddered.
The Author tried to cut the thread.
Aarav refused.
His Seal of Equilibrium glowed brilliantly.Not to overpower.To stabilize.
He accepted the missing moment as part of himself — pain, risk, sacrifice and all.
The memory locked into place.
Even without her face, the emotion became whole.
The Author's voice broke.
"…You… accepted an incomplete truth."
Aarav's eyes opened again in the library.
"I accepted that someone cared enough to warn me," he said softly. "That is enough for now."
Lines of text wrote themselves into the blank spot of his life.
The moment he'd decided to activate the Core in the modern world — aware of the risks, warned by someone he trusted.
The missing piece was no longer missing.
Just veiled.
The Author stared at him, silver eyes wide.
"You terrify me," he whispered.
Aarav smiled gently.
"Good."
Shattering the Pen
The Author lowered his head.
"You have passed," he said quietly. "Your story is not mine to write."
He snapped his fingers.
The library shook.
Shelves of alternate lives began to fall apart, dissolving into motes of light. False versions of Aarav—tyrant, puppet, martyr, madman—crumbled.
Only one remained intact.
His.
Seraphyne stepped forward, eyes shaking.
"You said even you didn't know what was erased," she said. "You lied."
The Author gave a sad, thin smile.
"I am the Author of Lies, my lady. But I also… wanted to see what he would do if given a wound."
He looked at Aarav.
"You did not seek control over the missing piece. You sought to honor it. That is… rare."
He placed his hand over the black-glass desk.
A crack ran through it.
The Memory Sea's sky pulsed.
The Fourth Moon shivered.
The System chimed.
[Fourth Gate Cleared][Reward: Memory Lock — Critical memories can no longer be overwritten by external forces.][Partial Unlock: ??? — Hidden Ally Flag (Dormant)]
Aarav turned away from the Author.
Lunaris ran to him and hugged him without restraint — cold arms, warm heart.
"You scared me," she mumbled into his chest.
Umara wrapped her shadow around both of them, eyes wet.
"You carry so much alone," she whispered.
Seraphyne stood just behind, one hand pressed against her own heart.
"Aarav…" she said softly.
He glanced at her.
She hesitated. Then:
"In the modern era… before you ever found the Core… my ink touched your world."
He blinked.
Seraphyne looked away, shame and resolve mixing.
"I… might have helped erase something."
The Memory Sea darkened around them.
The Fourth Moon flickered.
Far away, the Crimson Prophet opened his eyes and smiled faintly.
"You are doing well, Balance Walker…" he murmured. "But every truth you reclaim… brings you closer to choosing between Heaven and Heart."
And somewhere beyond time,a faceless woman whispered:
"Aarav… you finally remember that I existed."
Even if he still did not know her name.