CHAPTER 172 :Billy’s chest heaved as the echo of the shadow’s hiss faded into the still-throbbing air. His pulse slammed against his ribs like a drum warning of war. Every instinct in his body screamed to chase the fragment, to obliterate it before it had the chance to strike again—but he knew better. Tyla was still trembling beside him, her hands barely steady on his arm. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let her face this alone, yet the relic-bond pulsed with unpredictable energy, forcing him to restrain his own impulses.“Billy… you okay?” Tyla’s voice cracked through the tension, high and shaky. The words were simple, but the weight behind them cut through him. He knew she wasn’t just asking about his body. She meant his mind, his control, his stability—the thing that had been fraying since the rift incident.He swallowed hard. “I’m… I’m fine,” he lied, though even to himself it sounded hollow. Every cell in him throbbed with raw energy, the bond’s pulse pushing him toward thre

CHAPTER 174 :Billy’s senses had sharpened to a razor’s edge. Every sound, every vibration, every flicker of light from the relic-bond resonated in his bones, in his pulse, in a way that made the world feel simultaneously vast and microscopic. The link to Tyla was steady now, a tether against the madness, but it also made every step heavier, every breath more deliberate. He could feel her focus, her fear, her determination, all layered onto his own. The bond had become an unspoken dialogue, one that could be overwhelming if he allowed it to dominate his consciousness.Owen led the way, scanning the shifting terrain ahead. The ground underfoot was rough, scarred by residual energy from the rift, and faint streams of luminescent residue ran like veins through the rocks. The air carried a metallic tang, faint but constant, a reminder that they were close to the epicenter—the point where the rift’s energy converged and where Billy’s father had disappeared years ago.“We’re close,” Owen mu

CHAPTER 176 :The rift shivered like a living thing, folding light and shadow around it as Tyla and Owen approached the edge where Billy had disappeared. The air was electric, thick with unspent energy that made the hair on their arms rise, and the sound—a low, vibrating hum—pressed against their chests like a living heartbeat.“Billy!” Tyla’s voice rang out, sharp, urgent, cracking with the fear she tried desperately to suppress. She took a cautious step forward, then another, her boots barely touching what felt more like fluid than solid ground. “Billy, answer me! You promised you’d come back!”Owen’s hands were tense, hovering over his scanner and relic stabilizer. “Tyla, slow down! We can’t just rush in without—”“I don’t care!” she snapped, cutting him off. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the swirling colors of the rift. “He’s in there alone, Owen! He’s risking everything, and if I don’t follow, he might—he might not make it!”Owen exhaled slowly, the weight of authority pressed a

CHAPTER 178 :The rift had fully claimed their senses now. Gravity, time, and space bent to its will, folding the world like a paper lantern. Every step Billy took felt simultaneously grounded and unreal, as if the floor itself might dissolve beneath him at any moment. Tyla and Owen followed close, their trust in his resonance the only thing keeping them from being lost to the shifting chaos.Then it happened—the fragment of memory appeared. It hovered before Billy like a living window, swirling with light and shadow, displaying a scene he had never fully confronted: his father, Alexander Anderson, not in the heroic reconstruction of legend, but in a raw, intimate moment of failure and fear.Billy’s chest tightened as he stepped closer. The memory was vivid—painfully so. He saw his father interacting with Lucas and Alice, the enemies whose presence had haunted him throughout his journey. They were negotiating, arguing, the tension in the air thick enough to taste. And then he saw it:

CHAPTER 180 :The moment they stepped forward, the air shifted. It was heavier, dense with a weight that wasn’t physical but psychological. Every breath Billy drew felt like inhaling liquid—thick, oppressive, charged with a latent energy that made his skin tingle and his teeth ache. The landscape stretched out in impossible angles, jagged spires of black stone twisting into the sky like skeletal fingers. The horizon shimmered in inconsistent pulses, colors that didn’t exist in the natural spectrum bleeding into one another, folding space and time into a visual paradox.Tyla glanced at Billy, her eyes sharp, scanning. “Stay close,” she warned, her voice low but urgent. “This isn’t like the rift we’ve encountered before. The prison dimension… it adapts to your fears. To your memories. To your weaknesses.”Billy nodded, feeling the relic-bond thrum insistently against his skin, resonating with the distortions in the environment. He could sense the energy here—raw, chaotic, and yet purpos