The lab was silent but alive. A faint blue glow pulsed from a single console screen, casting strange, shifting shadows across the metal walls. Cables coiled across the floor like sleeping serpents, and machines buzzed softly with a synthetic hum that felt both familiar and alien.
Veylan stood motionless in front of the light, his face illuminated in pale cobalt. His expression was different now—harder, sharper. The air around him felt heavier somehow.
"Listen, kid," he said. "Very carefully."
Saro didn't move.
Veylan's gaze didn't waver.
"What I'm about to tell you… Promise me. On your life."
His voice dropped lower.
"You won't repeat a single word."
Saro blinked, caught off-guard. "Wait—no sharing the experience? Not even a little?"
Veylan's jaw tightened. His eyes had the weight of someone who'd already seen what happened when secrets weren't kept.
"Not even a whisper," he said. "This information isn't for sharing."
He paused.
"It's for surviving."
Saro swallowed. His face, still slightly flushed from adrenaline, slowly settled into something quieter. He gave a slow nod.
"…Okay," he said, barely audible.
Veylan took a step forward, fully entering the cold blue light. His features were clearer now—sharp lines, short black hair streaked with silver, and glasses that reflected the screen's glow like twin mirrors. His coat was heavy, worn, stained by time.
"My name," he said, "is Veylan Arctier."
A breath.
"Some call me Veylan. Some call me Arc. You can call me Veylan."
Saro tilted his head slightly, eyeing the man.
"You do look like someone too smart to be normal."
A faint chuckle escaped Veylan's lips. It sounded more like a habit than amusement. It didn't reach his eyes.
"I used to work for the JGSF," he said.
Saro straightened as if jolted.
"Hold on—JGSF?!" he blurted. "I thought that was just some military myth!"
Veylan's expression darkened.
"No, kid. It's not a rumor. It's real."
He turned slightly, the screen lighting up part of his profile.
"And the old world lived it."
His voice grew distant.
"I created things meant to serve and protect—Machines called Bots. Engineered with purpose. Function before form. Control before chaos."
The screen behind him flickered, and as if conjured from the past, images floated briefly—warships, mech silhouettes, and blueprints, all overlaid like ghosts of another time.
"And the Phasecore," he continued, voice softening. "My most beautiful invention."
A new image replaced the last—an orb suspended in a containment field, wires feeding into it like veins. It pulsed with slow, deliberate light.
"The synthetic heart," Veylan said. "The pulse of every Bot. Metal where we have flesh. Energy where we have blood."
Saro said nothing. He stood motionless, eyes wide. The weight of what he was hearing slowly pressed against his chest.
"Okay…" he said finally, voice hushed. "But if these were made for good—why hide all of this?"
The light dimmed.
Veylan lowered his gaze.
"Because one of my colleagues… betrayed it all."
His face fell into shadow, the blue light slicing across his cheekbones, barely touching his eyes.
"He took what we built—what was meant for peace…"
A pause.
"And turned it into humanity's worst nightmare."
Behind him, the screen flickered again.
A figure emerged in digital silhouette—blurred, faceless, standing in a lab surrounded by twisted metal limbs and red energy. One hand clutched a corrupted core, its glow pulsing like a wound.
The monster we didn't mean to make.
Saro stared, shaken.
"What did he do…?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
Veylan looked at him with a bitter calm, as if the name itself had become a scar on his memory.
"He made Riven," he said.
And just like that—
The room seemed colder.
The air heavier.
And the future… closer.