The first sign that the world wasn't going back to normal came in the form of silence.
Not the comfortable quiet of Sanctum's inner halls, but the too-even stillness in the air outside—a pause before something chose to move.
Shinra felt it as soon as he stepped out of the guild.
Yuna walked beside him, hands tucked into her pockets, eyes scanning out of habit. They were headed toward the outer districts for what Kaizen had called a "low-pressure patrol."
"'Low-pressure,'" Yuna muttered. "Only Kaizen would use those words the day after Authority pokes us."
"He wanted you to rest," Shinra said.
"He wanted you to rest," she corrected. "He sent us with you so you don't start volunteering for Breach cleanup the second you feel your legs back."
He didn't argue.
The city felt… watchful.
Again.
But this time, it wasn't just Shinra people were thinking about.
Authority vehicles had been seen near several guild buildings this morning. Rumors said other Tier 1s were being "reassessed," though no one knew exactly how many.
[They are tightening their net, Great Master,] Arios murmured.
[Not closing it yet. Just checking its seams.]
They felt the Hub as much as we did, Shinra thought. Their systems don't like being reminded they're not omniscient.
The street they walked now was narrower than the main avenues—lined with smaller shops and apartment entrances, the kind of place that sat between big maps' labels. Laundry hung from some windows. A cat watched from a low rooftop, tail flicking lazily.
Ahead, the quiet broke.
Not with a Breach. Not with sirens.
With voices.
"…I told you already, back off."
"Or what? You'll flick some harmless sparks again?"
"Stay out of this, Mundane."
"He's my brother—"
Yuna's eyes sharpened.
"Trouble," she said simply.
They rounded the corner.
In the middle of the side street, a small knot of people had formed.
Four Ascendants in matching, sharp-lined jackets—another mid-tier guild's emblem on their bands—stood in a loose half-circle. Their auras flared just enough to make the air feel tense. They weren't top-tier, but they were confident enough to act like they were.
Facing them stood a young man and a girl.
The young man's band glowed faintly Tier 6, its edge scuffed. His aura sputtered nervously, sparks jumping between his fingers and dying just as quickly.
The girl had no band.
She stood slightly behind him, hand gripping his sleeve.
Her jaw was set, but her eyes betrayed how hard she was fighting not to show fear.
One of the mid-tier Ascendants—tall, hair shaved on one side, smirk just a little too practiced—stepped forward.
"You shouldn't be using abilities here," he said lazily, though his tone carried threat. "You lit up a scan point. That causes problems."
"I was just practicing," the Tier 6 said. "I didn't mean—"
"That's the point," the man cut in. "You don't mean anything. You're unstable. Low-tier. Liability."
His gaze flicked to the girl.
"And dragging a Mundane around with you?" he added. "You're going to get her killed one day."
The girl clenched her jaw.
"She's my sister," the boy snapped. "We live here."
The man shrugged. "Not my problem. I'm just saying, people like you should stick to controlled zones. You get in our way during a Breach, we can't guarantee you won't be… collateral."
His friends snickered.
Yuna's expression went flat and cold.
"Idiots," she muttered.
She took a step forward.
Shinra put a hand lightly on her arm.
"Wait," he said.
Her head snapped toward him.
"'Wait'?" she repeated. "They're threatening to treat low-tiers and Mundanes like trash. That's exactly our—"
"I know," he said. "But we're not the only ones watching."
He tilted his head slightly.
Yuna followed the motion.
Across the street, at the mouth of the alley, another group watched.
Three figures, wearing darker coats with a familiar emblem stitched in silver at the breast.
A jagged crown. Thorn-wrapped.
Obsidian Crown.
They weren't moving yet.
But their attention was clear.
[Interesting,] Arios said.
[They arrived shortly before we did. They have not intervened.]
They're gauging the situation, Shinra thought. And us.
Yuna's eyes narrowed.
"Of course," she muttered. "They would pick today."
The shaved-side man in the middle had noticed them now too.
His eyes flicked from Yuna's Sanctum band to Shinra's, then to the Obsidian Crown trio behind them. For a brief moment, uncertainty crossed his face.
Too many guilds for someone whose courage depended on numbers.
He doubled down to cover it.
"We have this under control," he said loudly, projecting his voice. "No need for other guilds to interfere."
"Control," Yuna repeated flatly. "Is that what you call cornering low-tier Ascendants in front of their families?"
"It's a warning," he said. "For the greater good. They misused power—"
"What power?" the Tier 6 snapped. "I just— I barely did anything—"
"You lit up a scanner," the man said sharply. "That draws Breaches. Or worse. Authority's on edge enough already. People like you make it worse."
Yuna's jaw ticked.
"People like him," Shinra said, "kept alive is what makes your job possible."
All eyes swung to him now.
The leader's gaze tightened.
"You're Sanctum's Tier 1," he said.
It wasn't a question.
Whispers rippled through the small crowd that had gathered at the edges.
"Shinra…"
"That's him?"
"Why is he here?"
The girl holding her brother's sleeve stared with wide eyes.
Shinra stepped forward, slow and unthreatening.
He didn't raise his aura.
He didn't need to.
"You're worried about scanners," he said to the mid-tier. "About Authority. About unstable power. Those are valid concerns."
The man blinked, thrown off by the agreement.
"But you're directing your fear at the wrong target," Shinra continued. "He isn't the problem. The system that leaves people like him untrained and then blames them for existing—that's closer."
The man scoffed. "Easy to say from the top."
"I didn't start there," Shinra said.
He thought of older eras, earlier days.
He let the memory pass.
"You want to talk safety?" he said. "Teach him. Don't corner him. Control doesn't come from humiliation. It comes from understanding."
The man's grip on his own irritation slipped.
"You Sanctum types think being soft makes you righteous," he sneered. "You coddle low-tiers and Mundanes, and then we're the ones who have to clean up when they step into Breaches they can't handle."
Yuna moved past Shinra's side now, her voice cool.
"We don't send them where they can't survive," she said. "We don't treat them as disposable. That's the difference."
One of Obsidian Crown's trio stepped forward at last.
A woman, taller than Yuna, with dark hair pulled back in a sleek knot and eyes like polished stone. Her coat was fastened neatly, the thorned crown emblem clear over her chest.
Her presence didn't flare like Shinra's had at the Hub.
It sat deeper.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
"Enough," she said, not loudly, but with the tone of someone used to being obeyed.
The mid-tier stiffened at the new voice.
"Obsidian Crown," he muttered.
"That's right," she said. "Captain Arisa Kurogane. We happened to be nearby. And we also happen to care when people start playing judge with other people's worth based on tier alone."
Her gaze pinned him.
"Especially in public," she added. "Where Breaches aren't the only thing that can escalate."
[So this is their front-line leader,] Arios said.
[Her aura is clean. Heavy. Not malicious.]
She carries herself like someone used to taking hits, Shinra thought.
The man bristled. "We're enforcing safety protocols," he said. "Not everyone can be as idealistic as Sanctum. Or as… ambitious as Obsidian Crown."
Arisa's lips twitched, not quite into a smile.
"You can talk about safety," she said. "But you don't get to do it while scaring civilians and low-tiers into the ground. There's a thing called proportional response."
Her gaze flicked briefly to the Tier 6 boy and his sister.
The boy swallowed hard, his faint sparks flickering again uncontrollably.
"See?" the mid-tier said, gesturing. "He can't even keep his aura steady. That kind of instability near a sensitive point—"
Shinra stepped fully between them.
Before the boy could react, Shinra reached out and gently placed two fingers against his wrist.
"Breathe," he said softly. "In. Slow. Out slower."
The boy stared at him.
Shinra lowered his own aura—not outward, but inward. He created a quiet hollow around them, a still pocket that smoothed the jagged edges of surrounding pressure.
The boy's sparks, reacting unconsciously to stress and proximity, sputtered—
—and then settled.
"Good," Shinra said. "Your power's not wild. You are. Learn to tell the difference."
The girl's grip on her brother's sleeve loosened, just a fraction, as she felt his arm stop shaking.
The mid-tier scoffed. "Parlor tricks. He's still—"
Whatever words he'd been about to throw evaporated.
Because for a split second, as Shinra's focus brushed over him, his aura flickered.
And went out.
Not completely.
Not forever.
But enough that he felt it—like a flame suddenly deprived of air.
He gasped, hand clenching at his chest.
"What—"
Shinra hadn't moved from his spot.
He just looked at the man.
"You feel that?" he asked quietly. "That emptiness?"
The man's breath came a little faster.
His aura scrambled to flare and found itself… muffled.
Not gone.
Just cushioned in something else.
Padded.
Contained.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
"I made you feel what it's like," Shinra said. "To have power. And have it refused by the world around you."
[You're suppressing his emission by binding it to your own local field,] Arios said.
[Subtle. Crude, by your old standards. Effective here.]
I'm aware, Shinra replied.
He released the hold as easily as he'd taken it.
The man's aura flared back, messy with panic.
He staggered, catching himself.
His friends tensed now, moving closer, hands inching toward weapons or abilities.
Arisa shifted an inch. Not much. Enough that the entire atmosphere turned a degree sharper.
"Careful," she said.
Yuna's spear didn't manifest, but everyone who'd seen her fight before could tell how quickly it would.
Shinra's own power stayed quiet.
He didn't need to raise it further.
"You talk about instability," he said to the mid-tier. "But you lost control faster than he did."
Color rose in the man's face.
Rage. Embarrassment.
He opened his mouth—
Arisa spoke first.
"That's enough," she said. "You've made your point. Poorly. Walk away."
He stiffened.
"I— Captain, he—"
"Walk. Away," she repeated.
Her tone didn't change.
Her aura did.
Not with volume, but with focus—a line drawn in space.
The man swallowed.
He looked between Shinra, Yuna, Arisa, the crowd, the siblings.
He saw no support.
He jerked his head at his team.
"Fine," he muttered. "We're done here."
They peeled away, their auras spiking once more before they retreated down the street, muttering about overprotection and "soft guilds."
The boy sagged where he stood.
His sister gripped his arm again, harder now, pulling him closer.
"You all right?" Yuna asked, stepping toward them.
He nodded jerkily. "I— yeah. I'm sorry. I didn't— I just wanted to practice. I thought this alley was quiet enough."
"Be more careful where you test," Yuna said. "But don't stop. You won't get better by being scared into freezing."
The girl bowed slightly.
"Thank you," she said. "All of you."
Her eyes lingered a little longer on Shinra.
Then she tugged her brother away, their steps quick but not frantic now.
The small crowd dispersed bit by bit, whispering among themselves.
Some glances toward Shinra held gratitude.
Some held confusion.
Some held something like awe.
The usual split.
When they were mostly alone, Arisa turned her full attention to Shinra and Yuna.
"Sanctum," she said. "You do pick interesting places to walk."
"We could say the same," Yuna said. "Obsidian Crown doesn't patrol this side often."
"We do when Authority starts sniffing around," Arisa replied. "The balance gets… twitchy."
Her eyes moved back to Shinra.
"In person, then," she said. "Shinra."
She didn't say his title.
He appreciated that.
"And you," he said. "Arisa Kurogane. Captain?"
She inclined her head.
"You know us," she said.
"I met some of your lower-ranked members," he said. "They were less… measured."
A flicker of something passed over her face.
"Ah," she said. "Those two."
She exhaled.
"We had a conversation," she added. "Recently."
"I hope it was educational," Yuna said dryly.
"For them," Arisa said. "And for me. Your guild's refusal to fold under pressure caught my attention."
Yuna folded her arms.
"Is that why you're here?" she asked. "To apply more pressure? In a friendlier tone this time?"
Arisa smiled, thin and sharp.
"Partially," she said. "Mostly, I'm here because it's getting harder to pretend we don't all live under the same sky."
She looked at Shinra again.
"At the Hub," she said, "you changed the shape of a Breach. Authority's scanners died failing to understand it. My squads felt like the world had been picked up and tilted."
"You held your line," Shinra said. "Your people didn't run."
"We don't recruit cowards," she said simply. "That's one thing we have in common with Sanctum."
Yuna made a skeptical noise, but didn't interrupt.
Arisa continued.
"We've been watching," she said. "Not just you. Sanctum. How you move. How you choose missions no one else wants. How you discourage… this sort of thing."
She gestured faintly toward where the confrontation had been.
"You disagree," Shinra said.
"Not with the outcome," she said. "Those idiots deserved to be humbled. I disagree with the scale."
"How so?" Yuna asked.
Arisa gestured broadly at the surroundings.
"The world is scaling up," she said. "Breaches are stacking. Authority is nervous. When that kind of pressure builds, there are two choices: bend with it, or push back hard enough to break something."
"We prefer not to break people on the way," Yuna said.
"So do we," Arisa replied. "We just disagree on how far we have to go to keep everyone alive."
She stepped closer to Shinra then, stopping just outside his immediate space.
"You don't belong in a corner," she said. "Not with the way the world is shifting. You belong at the front line of that push."
"With Obsidian Crown," Yuna said flatly.
Her tone wasn't surprised.
Just resigned.
Arisa didn't deny it.
"With us," she said, eyes on Shinra. "On paper, Sanctum and Obsidian Crown have different reputations. You're the 'gentle guild,' the defenders of the weak. We're the 'hardliners,' the ones who think only the strong can keep order."
"You don't sound proud of that," Shinra observed.
"I'm not ashamed of it either," she said. "But I know how people twist it. The truth is simpler: we believe power has an obligation—to lead, not just to shield. To shape the field, not just hold it."
"And Sanctum doesn't?" Yuna asked.
"You shape slowly," Arisa said. "Locally. We shape by force, further out. There's room for both. But with someone like him—"
She nodded toward Shinra.
"—it's a waste to leave him tied to one small building."
Yuna's eyes flashed.
"Tied?" she repeated.
"Anchored," Arisa corrected smoothly. "Bound by choice, not force. But the effect is the same. You'll keep him here as long as you can. That's your nature. We, on the other hand—"
She met Shinra's gaze.
"—would let you run farther."
He held her gaze.
"What does 'run' mean to you?" he asked. "Conquer? Command? Dominate?"
"Protect," she said. "Preempt. Hit the threats before they grow large enough to take cities. Use your power fully where necessary, not just in fractions that keep everyone comfortable."
Shinra thought of fifteen percent in the Hub.
Of scanners burning out.
Of seals creaking.
"And if using it fully cracks the world?" he asked.
Arisa's eyes darkened.
"Then we're dead either way," she said. "I'd rather die hitting back than waiting in a safe house for reality to unravel."
[She's not lying,] Arios said.
[Her convictions are not a pose.]
I can see that, Shinra answered.
He turned slightly, including Yuna in his next words.
"I'm not interested in crowns," he said. "Obsidian or otherwise. I've had enough of thrones."
Yuna's head tilted just barely at that.
Arisa didn't flinch.
"I'm not offering you a throne," she said. "I'm offering you reach. Influence. The chance to make decisions that affect more than one sector."
"Decisions," Shinra repeated. "Made by who?"
"A council," she said. "Our upper ranks. Myself. You, if you joined."
"And Authority?" he asked. "They won't like that."
"They already don't like you," she said. "With Sanctum, they'll be wary and frustrated. With us, they'll still be wary… but they'll respect the leverage."
Yuna let out a long breath.
"At least you say it plain," she said. "Not like your younger ones who come poking around with half-truths and smug smiles."
"We're training that out of them," Arisa said. "Slowly."
She looked between them.
"I'm not telling you to abandon Sanctum," she said. "Despite what people say, we don't exist to tear decent guilds apart."
Yuna blinked, surprised by the admission.
"Then what are you saying?" Shinra asked.
"I'm saying this," Arisa replied. "The way things are going, Authority will push harder. Breaches will get worse. When that happens, there will be battles Sanctum can't afford to stand in the middle of—not if it wants to keep sheltering the people it shelters."
She tilted her head slightly toward Sanctum's general direction.
"When those battles come," she said, "Obsidian Crown will be there. We would rather stand with someone like you than against you. Whether your band is registered under Sanctum or us matters less than the direction you point your blade."
She extended a hand.
Not as a contract.
As an offer.
"Think of it as an invitation to an alliance," she said. "Guild lines bend in the field more than people like to admit."
Yuna stared at that hand.
"You're trying to poach him," she said. "Respectfully. But still poach."
"I'm trying to keep options open," Arisa said calmly. "You're not our enemy. We don't want you to become a casualty of someone else's fear."
Her eyes flickered up, toward where invisible offices sat in distant towers.
Shinra looked at her hand.
He thought of the Hub.
Of Authority's scan, and Ryou's quiet question.
Do you want this era to stand?
He thought of the boy in the alley today.
Of the way his sparks had steadied with a little space to breathe.
He thought of Sanctum's courtyard tree.
Of Yuna's sarcasm.
Riku's noise.
Hana's steady eyes.
Daren's silent support.
"…I won't leave Sanctum," he said.
He saw Yuna's shoulders relax, just a little.
Arisa didn't seem surprised.
"I expected that," she said.
"But," he continued, "I will fight beside anyone who protects civilians and low-tiers. Guild emblem doesn't matter in a Breach."
Something in Arisa's expression eased.
"That," she said, "is enough."
She withdrew her hand—not offended, not disappointed. Just filing the answer away like a piece on a board repositioned, not removed.
"Then consider this informal," she said. "When we cross paths in the field, we coordinate, not collide. If Sanctum shields, we strike. If we overreach, you pull back. Maybe between us, the world survives a little longer."
Yuna exhaled through her nose.
"That's the most reasonable thing I've heard from Obsidian Crown all year," she said.
"You've been talking to the wrong members," Arisa replied.
Her gaze went briefly distant, like she was hearing something through her own comm.
"Our time's up," she said. "We have our own patrol to continue."
She looked at Shinra one last time.
"You're being watched from above," she said. "By more than Authority. Remember that. And remember…"
Her eyes hardened.
"People like us don't get to be apolitical for long."
Then, to Yuna:
"Keep your house standing," she said. "It does more good than some of the towers built to shine."
"And you," Yuna replied evenly, "try not to break too many walls while you're out 'shaping' things."
"No promises," Arisa said. "But we'll aim for the right ones."
She turned and left, her two squadmates falling into step behind her.
They moved through the street with the ease of people used to cutting through both danger and bureaucracy.
When they were gone, Yuna let out a long, slow breath.
"Well," she said. "That's going to give Kaizen and Mizuki a headache."
"Why?" Shinra asked.
"Because they'll want to trust that offer," she said. "And they'll be right to. And wrong. At the same time."
Riku's voice drifted from behind them—they hadn't even noticed him, Hana, and Daren catching up.
"So," he said, "we're frenemies now?"
Hana adjusted her glasses. "Allies of circumstance," she corrected.
Daren folded his arms. "As long as they hit Breaches harder than they hit people," he said, "I can live with that."
Yuna looked at Shinra.
"You sure?" she asked. "About turning them down?"
"Yes," he said.
She studied him.
"You really… meant it," she said slowly. "About not wanting a throne."
He watched the alley turn quiet again, the ghost of tension fading.
"I've had one," he said. "It didn't end well."
Yuna didn't ask.
Not yet.
Instead, she nudged his shoulder lightly.
"Come on," she said. "Let's finish this 'low-pressure patrol' before Kaizen decides to rename it 'the day Shinra almost became a political disaster.'"
"Accurate title," Riku muttered.
Hana sighed.
Daren grunted in amused agreement.
They walked on.
Behind them, at the corner, a pair of kids peeked out from a doorway where they'd watched the whole thing.
"…That was him, right?" one whispered. "The Tier 1?"
"Yeah," the other said. "And Obsidian Crown. And Sanctum…"
"Do you think they're going to fight?"
The second kid watched the retreating backs of both groups of Ascendants.
He shook his head.
"…No," he said. "I think they're going to argue a lot. And still save people anyway."
Far above them, in towers of glass and rooms of polished steel, reports would be written.
Authority would note: "Sanctum maintains independent course. Obsidian Crown shows interest. Subject Shinra remains unbound."
But here, on the ground where children played and low-tiers tried to practice in quiet alleys,
what mattered was simpler:
Two rival guilds had looked at the same injustice
and stepped in the same direction—
and in the middle of their opposing philosophies,
Shinra chose, once again,
not to rule
but to stand.