The Crimson Syndicate did not hide.
It ruled the shadows openly.
Their mark—three clawed lines carved through a gear—was burned into brick walls across Ironreach's lower districts, No sermons, No purity speeches, Just survival.
Lyra stopped in front of a rusted warehouse door beneath the old rail tunnel.
"This is it," she said quietly.
Kael felt it immediately.
Not distortion.
Not the Engine.
Something heavier.
Human.
The door slid open before they could knock.
A tall man leaned against the frame, coat draped lazily over one shoulder. His hair was silver-black, tied loosely at the back. A faint red glow pulsed beneath the skin of his exposed forearm.
He smiled.
"You're late."
Lyra exhaled slowly. "Riven."
Riven Ashcroft.
Kael felt the air tighten around the name.
Riven's crimson eyes drifted to him.
"So," Riven said softly, "this is the storm."
Inside, the warehouse had been transformed into a fortified den. Steel beams reinforced the ceiling. Weapon racks lined the walls. Steam generators hummed in controlled rhythm.
Men and women with scarred faces and mechanical implants glanced up from tables as Kael entered.
They weren't afraid.
They were measuring him.
Riven walked in slow circles around Kael, studying him like a weapon appraisal.
"You don't look like a god," he muttered.
"I'm not," Kael replied.
Riven chuckled. "That's what makes you dangerous."
Lyra stepped between them.
"We don't have time for theatrics. The Church deployed a full Hunter squad."
Riven raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"They confirmed Void resonance."
That silenced the room.
A low murmur spread through the Syndicate members.
Riven's smile faded slightly.
"Void," he repeated.
He stopped in front of Kael.
"Show me."
Kael stiffened. "What?"
"Control," Riven clarified. "If you're going to drag the Church down here, I need to know you won't implode my district."
Lyra started to object, but Kael nodded.
He stepped into the center of the warehouse.
Closed his eyes.
Tick.
He focused on the rhythm.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Balance.
The air around him shimmered faintly.
Small bolts and loose screws on a nearby table rolled slightly toward him.
The distortion remained subtle.
Controlled.
Riven's red forearm glowed brighter.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Then he moved.
Faster than Kael expected.
Riven's fist slammed toward his ribs.
Kael reacted—but too late.
The punch connected.
Pain exploded through his side.
He skidded backward across the floor.
Laughter erupted from the Syndicate members.
Lyra stepped forward angrily. "What are you doing?!"
"Testing," Riven said calmly.
His arm pulsed red.
Veins glowing like molten wire.
"Blood Core," Lyra muttered.
Riven rolled his neck.
"Again."
He lunged.
This time Kael felt it sooner.
The shift in pressure.
The intent.
He twisted sideways.
Riven's punch grazed his jacket but cracked the steel beam behind him.
Shockwaves rippled outward.
Kael countered instinctively.
Not with force.
With displacement.
The air between them folded.
Riven stumbled as space betrayed his footing.
Kael stepped forward—
And stopped.
The ticking accelerated.
TickTickTick—
Riven's eyes narrowed.
"Careful," he warned softly. "You're climbing."
Kael inhaled sharply and forced the rhythm down.
The distortion faded.
Silence settled.
Riven smirked.
"You learn fast."
Hours later, the warehouse quieted.
Syndicate members returned to preparations.
Weapons cleaned.
Lookouts assigned.
Lyra and Kael sat on a steel crate near a dim lantern.
"You didn't have to let him hit you," she said quietly.
"I needed to feel it," Kael replied.
"Feel what?"
"Human."
Her expression softened.
Riven approached again, tossing Kael a wrapped cloth bundle.
Inside was a compact blade reinforced with Aether-conductive alloy.
"You can't rely on space tricks forever," Riven said. "When suppression fields hit, you'll need something solid."
Kael examined the blade.
It felt real.
Grounded.
"Why help us?" he asked.
Riven's gaze shifted toward the warehouse ceiling.
"Because the Church doesn't just hunt anomalies," he said. "They erase districts."
Lyra stiffened. "You think they'll purge Sector Nine?"
"They already drafted the paperwork," Riven replied calmly. "Void contamination justifies mass cleansing."
The weight of that sank into Kael's chest.
Tick.
Slower now.
"He's not just after me," Kael said quietly.
"No," Riven agreed. "He's after control."
A sudden explosion rocked the warehouse doors.
Steel buckled inward.
Syndicate members scrambled.
Riven's smile vanished completely.
"They found us."
Outside, Church armored units advanced through smoke.
But these weren't standard Hunters.
Their armor gleamed white-gold.
Wing-like mechanical structures extended from their backs.
Lyra's monocle flickered violently.
"No…" she whispered.
"What?" Kael asked.
"Seraph Unit."
One of the winged soldiers stepped forward.
Its helmet opened slightly, revealing a pale face devoid of emotion.
"Void target detected," it announced.
Its voice was smooth.
Synthetic.
The wings unfolded fully, humming with energy.
Riven flexed his glowing arm.
"Guess the warm-up's over."
The Seraph Unit launched forward with blinding speed.
It crashed through the warehouse roof, descending like divine judgment.
Syndicate fighters opened fire.
Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the Seraph's Aether barrier.
Riven charged first.
His Blood Core flared violently.
Red energy erupted from his arm as he struck the Seraph mid-air.
The impact cracked the floor beneath them.
The Seraph slid back—but remained standing.
It countered instantly, mechanical wing blade slicing across Riven's shoulder.
Blood sprayed onto rusted stone.
Kael felt it.
The sight.
The scent.
Tick—
The rhythm faltered.
Riven staggered but laughed through the pain.
"Not bad."
The Seraph's eyes shifted to Kael.
"Primary target engaged."
It blurred forward.
Kael reacted instinctively.
Space folded.
The Seraph's blade slowed—but didn't stop.
Its systems adapted rapidly.
Lyra shouted, "It's compensating for distortion!"
The Seraph struck Kael's chest.
The mechanical heart screamed inside him.
Time fractured.
He saw again—
The laboratory.
The glass.
The girl in white feathers screaming his name.
Blood dripped onto the warehouse floor.
Real blood.
Riven roared and slammed into the Seraph from behind, driving it through a steel column.
Sparks erupted.
Kael struggled to his feet.
The ticking roared back louder than ever.
TickTickTickTick—
The Seraph rose from debris, wings fully extended.
"Synchronization spike detected," it reported calmly.
Kael stepped forward.
This time, he didn't panic.
He didn't rage.
He focused.
On Riven bleeding.
On Lyra watching him with fear and faith tangled together.
The seam opened.
Not violently.
Precisely.
The Seraph lunged—
And vanished mid-strike.
Silence fell.
A black ripple expanded outward, then collapsed inward like a closing eye.
The Seraph reappeared ten meters away—embedded halfway into a wall as if space had rejected it.
Its systems flickered erratically.
"Spatial… inconsistency…" it muttered before going still.
The warehouse was silent except for Riven's labored breathing.
Lyra stared at Kael.
"Where did you send it?"
Kael looked at his trembling hand.
"I didn't send it anywhere," he whispered.
"I moved the world."
A cold chill ran through everyone present.
Riven laughed weakly from the floor.
"Yeah," he coughed, blood on his lips, "We're definitely at war now."
Outside, distant Church sirens multiplied.
More units approaching.
Kael looked at Lyra.
Then at Riven.
Then at the Syndicate members preparing to defend their ground.
Tick.
The rhythm had changed again.
Not unstable.
Resolute.
For the first time—
He wasn't running.
And beneath Ironreach, the Oblivion Engine rotated with renewed intensity.
Because the anomaly was no longer reacting.
It was learning.