The air in the ancient city was sterile and still, like the breath of a world that had not changed in ten thousand years.
Every sound seemed too loud, the hiss of armor seals adjusting, the soft crackle of Thalassaria's trident humming with abyssal energy, the faint buzz of unseen machines waking in distant halls.
Caedrion stood before the console that rose from the floor like a monolith of living glass.
It responded to no touch, no word, only presence.
When he drew near, the surface bloomed with light, lines of shifting geometry circling his hand as if the system were tasting him.
The voice returned, calm and cold:
"Resonance detected. Dormant Administrator-tier signature. Awaiting authentication."
Thalassaria floated beside him, her gaze sweeping the room.
"This structure is alive," she murmured. "Every wall breathes power. It's as if the sea itself was built to worship it."
Caedrion exhaled slowly. "It's not worshiping anything. It's running a diagnostic."
