The Leviathan chamber breathed like a living lung, every ripple in the black water pulsing in time with Eric's thoughts. The invisible resonance of his last broadcast had stretched across continents, and while the world reeled, he stood perfectly still. Calm. Calculating.
Before him, the luminous strands of the Code shimmered, bending reality as though the universe itself had grown malleable in his hands. His fingers danced lazily across the projection, weaving patterns no textbook or archive could ever have imagined.
Lisette stood at his side, her lips tight, her eyes betraying the tension she had not spoken since Prague. She had seen what this resonance could do. She had felt the world tremble.
"Eric," she said softly, breaking the silence. "You shook them. Every ward, every Sentinel watching the world… they felt you. They know you exist now."
Eric's eyes flicked toward her, a faint curl at the edge of his mouth. "Good."
Regulus shifted uncomfortably, his hands clasped behind his back. "And what happens when they do more than feel? When they strike? The Sentinels are not Aurors. They don't stumble into traps; they carve through them."
Eric didn't answer at once. Instead, he pulled another thread of the Code forward. A lattice of flickering lines bloomed across the chamber wall — like a map, but far stranger. It was not of geography, but of connections. Magical currents threading between nations, ley-lines pulsing, artifacts humming in their vaults, whispers drifting through minds.
"Their strike won't matter," Eric said. "Because by the time they move, their blades will pass through shadows. I will already be inside them."
Ailis leaned in, studying the lattice. Her voice carried the cold certainty that often unnerved the others. "What is this?"
"The Phantom Net," Eric said. "A mirrored architecture. While they scramble to chart where I am, I'll already have ghosted myself into every system they trust — their wards, their prophecies, even their Seer Engines. They'll see reflections of me everywhere and nowhere."
Lisette's voice faltered. "You're saying… you'll make yourself unkillable."
"No," Eric replied smoothly, his eyes gleaming. "I'll make myself inevitable."
For a long moment, silence held the chamber. The Leviathan beneath the water stirred, sending a slow tremor across the surface.
Then, as if summoned by the thought, the Code lattice quivered — and a whisper slipped through it. Not from Eric. Not from any of them.
It was faint, almost indistinct, but it carried across the chamber like a draft of ice.
"…He already sees you…"
Lisette's breath hitched. Regulus's hand shot to his wand. Ailis froze, her eyes narrowing into slits.
Eric, however, only tilted his head. A smile ghosted his lips — not amusement, but recognition.
"The Sentinels are stirring," he murmured. "Good. It means they're finally worth my time."
The lattice pulsed again, and Eric moved his hand through it with a deliberate motion, severing the whisper mid-flow. The chamber snapped back to silence, save for the deep, patient breathing of the Leviathan below.
Eric turned back to his Inner Circle. His tone sharpened, leaving no room for hesitation.
"Lisette — double the relay nodes. I want the Net woven into every current of their wards by week's end. Regulus — summon the outside cells. They'll think they're tracking smugglers; they'll be chasing my shadows. Ailis—" His eyes locked on hers, colder than steel. "You'll prepare the next fissure. Somewhere loud. Somewhere that rattles them into wasting their first strike."
"And you?" Lisette asked, though her voice already carried the weight of the answer.
Eric turned back to the water, the ripples dancing like veins of power at his feet. His voice was calm, steady, absolute.
"I'll be waiting. Not to defend. Not to hide. But to show them that no matter what they see, no matter what they cut…" His smile darkened, dangerous. "…the Architect remains."
The chamber thrummed, the Net tightening, shadows bleeding outward like a second skin around the world.
And far away, beneath the Alps, in the heart of the ICW, a dozen Seer Engines flickered violently, choking on paradox. Every path they cast forward splintered into fragments — some where the Architect triumphed, some where the world burned, and some where nothing remained at all.
But in each vision, one truth remained constant:
The Architect could not be erased.
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