2025-08-07 23:46:36
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Ch-174
The Alhambra Grand had been marketed as “a sanctuary for the elite,” but Nathan had learned long ago that velvet curtains and gold leaf only hid sharper claws. He and Harper stepped through the glass doors just past noon, the sun refracting off the marble floors like a spotlight. They were supposed to meet the Pacific delegation upstairs—a quick handshake, a private exchange before tomorrow’s summit session. He had deliberately kept the entourage small. No media, no security parade. He wanted this to be quiet. It wasn’t. The moment he reached the reception desk, the young man behind it leaned forward with a tight, too-bright smile. The nameplate read A. Mirren. His suit was perfectly pressed, but the tilt of his mouth carried the faintest smugness. “I’m sorry, sir,” Mirren said, voice carrying just enough to be overheard by the guests scattered through the opulent lobby. “Your reservation appears to have… been cancelled. This morning, in fact. No rooms are currently available unde
Ch-173
The ruins of the monastery still clung to Nathan’s mind like incense. Stone steps worn by centuries, whispers of the monks fading into the wind, Harper’s steady hand on his shoulder. But peace never lasted. It never could—not for him.Two weeks after Miko released the open-source Codex, the first World Guardian Summit convened in Marrakesh. It was meant to be a gathering of unity—a table where each continent’s newly appointed Guardian would stand as equals. Instead, it became an arena.The grand hall was built of glass walls and open air, letting the desert wind drift through. Sunlight slashed across marble floors, the council dais glimmering like an altar. Guardians from Africa, Eurasia, the Americas, the Pacific, and the Polar Convergence stood in their ceremonial mantles, each flanked by aides and emissaries.Nathan entered last. He had refused the mantle, wearing instead a black linen jacket, collar open, a deliberate contrast to the pomp. Harper walked behind him, expression unre
Ch-172
The flags still fluttered at New Geneva, but the world had already moved on. Weeks after the summit, Nathan stood at the edge of a cliff above the old monastery ruins—now little more than a stone foundation carved into the spine of the Himalayas. Moss crept over fallen pillars. Wind whispered through fractured prayer wheels. Somewhere, far below, water sang against ancient rocks. Beside him, Harper walked in silence. Her steps were lighter now, her aura steadier—no longer tethered to chaos. She had shed what remained of the entropy storm. Her voice had not returned in sound, but it no longer needed to. The way she looked at Nathan said more than any speech could. He ran his fingers along a stone tablet partially buried in snow. The engraving was still visible: the Oath of the First Guardians. A language that predated the Codex. He traced it with quiet reverence. “They waited so long,” Harper projected gently. “They held the line,” Nathan replied. “Even when no one remembered
Ch-171
The chamber was empty now.What remained of the Seventh Ring had scattered—light without anchor, truth without a master. It shimmered once over the stone altar, then vanished entirely, bleeding back into the structure of reality itself.Nathan stood at the center, shoulders slack, watching as invisible lines of tension snapped back into place. The planet stilled. Not with silence, but balance.The astral currents settled. The sky no longer shimmered at wrong angles. Cities that had flickered from existence reappeared, disoriented but intact. Somewhere in the Pacific, time resumed. Stars returned to their rightful constellations.It was done.Beside him, Miko sat cross-legged on the floor, fingers wrapped in bandages still faintly smoking from contact with the mirror’s forging. She was watching the stone platform, eyes half-lidded.“That’s it?” she asked.Nathan gave a faint nod. “That’s it.”Nyx’s form blinked in on a flickering projection node near the door. Her voice was steady, but
Ch-170
The memory of Senna faded with the morning light, like mist burning off the cliffs of Ardent Cradle. Nathan stood for a long time at the edge of the vault, hands open, letting the silence settle into his skin. The Severance Protocol was complete. The unraveling had slowed. But not stopped.In the heart of the mountain stronghold, where six rings once hummed in distant synchrony, five figures now gathered around a slab of origin stone—unchiseled, untouched since before the Codex had been written.The chamber pulsed faintly. Not with power, but with intention.Miko arrived first, her eyes rimmed in pale gold, probability still flickering off her fingertips like static. Harper followed, silent as a shadow, her projected memory brushing the minds of those present in greeting. Nyx stood with one foot in reality and the other humming with digital decay, her eyes two cold blue points wired into half a hundred dead satellites.And the last: the Echochild.Nathan's half-brother.He said nothin
Ch-169
As the last threads of memory dissolved into stardust, the Astral plane began to settle, shimmering with the aftermath of the Severance Protocol. Harper’s breath slowed beside Nathan, her hand still faintly glowing from channeling the Rite. But time had not fully healed—and across the collapsing corridors of forgotten thought, a deeper fracture pulsed. The echo of Praelor’s dominion, buried but not broken, stirred in defiance. Nathan turned. His work was not done.---Nathan stepped through the silver breach, his coat whipping against the ripples of untime. The chamber he entered was both infinite and enclosed, walls bending around paradoxes—scrolls burning in reverse, ink flowing back into pens, relics whispering their own creation. At its center, Praelor waited.The proto-Sovereign stood tall, his body stitched together from archives of civilizations that never existed, eyes smoldering with stolen insight. “You dare walk into my sanctum,” he hissed, “with broken time hanging off you
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